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A    COURT    HALL. 


BURLESQUES. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS.     JEAMES'S  DIARY.     ADVENTURES 

OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.     A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE.     REBECCA 

AND    ROWENA.     THE    HISTORY   OF    THE    NEXT    FRENCH 

REVOLUTION.    COX'S  DIARY.    YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

FITZBOODLE   PAPERS.     THE   WOLVES    AND    THE 

LAMB.      THE     BEDFORD     ROW    CONSPIRACY. 

A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT    TIMMINS'S.      THE 

FATAL    BOOTS.      LITTLE    TRAVELS, 


BY 

WILLIAM  MAKEPEACE  THACKERAY. 


iVITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  THE  AUTHOR,  AND  RICHARD  DOYLE. 


CHICAGO   AND   NEW  YORK: 

BELFORD,  CLARKE   k   COMPANY, 

Publishers. 


TIICW'S 

IINTINQ  AN!  BOOKIINDINQ  COUPAM 

NEW  YORK. 


Sfc-M 

198(5 


CONTENTS. 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS:— 


FAGK. 


George  de  Barnwell.     By  Sir  E.  L.  B.  L.,  Bart 7 

Codlingsby.     By  D.  Shrewsberry,  Esq 19 

Phil  Fogarty.      A  Tale  of  the  Fighting  Onety-Oneth. 

By  Harry  Rollicker 31 

Barbazure.     By  G.  P.  R.  Jeames,  Esq.,  etc 44 

Lords  and  Liveries.  By  the  Authoress  of  "  Dukes 
and  Ddjeuners,"  "  Hearts  and  Diamonds,"  "  Mar- 
chionesses and  Milliners,"  etc.,  etc 54 

Crinoline.     By  Je-mes  Pl-sh,  Esq 63 

The  Stars  and  Stripes.     By  the  Author  of  "The  Last 

of  the  Mulligans,"  "  Pilot,"  etc 73 

A  PLAN  FOR  A  PRIZE  NOVEL 80 


THE  DIARY  OF  C  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE,  ESQ., 
WITH  HIS  LETTERS. 

A  Lucky  Speculator 85 

The  Diary 91 

Jeames  on  Time  Bargings 1 29 

Jeames  on  the  Gauge  Question 132 

Mr.  Jeames  Again 1 35 

THE     TREMENDOUS     ADVENTURES     OF     MAJOR 
GAHAGAN. 

L  "  Truth  is  strange,  stranger  than  Fiction  " 139 

IL  Allyghur  and  Laswaree IS3 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAP.  PA6B. 

III.  A  Peep  into  Spain. — Account  of  the  Origin  and  Services 

of  the  Ahmednuggar  Irregulars 162 

IV.  The  Indian  Camp— The  Sortie  from  the  Fort 175 

V.  The  Issue  of  my  Interview  with  my  Wife 183 

VI.  Famine  in  the  Garrison 187 

VII.  The  Escape   193 

VIII.  The  Captive 196 

IX.  Surprise  of  Futtyghur 202 

A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

I.  Sir  Ludwig  of  Hombourg   Mi 

II.  The  Godesbergers 215 

III.  The  Festival 219 

IV.  The  Flight 221 

V.  The  Traitor's  Doom 223 

VI.  The  Confession 227 

VII.  The  Sentence 230 

VIII.  The  Childe  of  Godesberg 231 

IX.  The  Lady  of  Windeck 239 

X.  The  Battle  of  the  Bowmen 245 

XI.  The  Martyr  of  Love 250 

XII.  The  Champion 256 

XIII.  The  Marriage . .   261 

REBECCA    AND     ROWENA:    A     ROMANCE     UPON 
ROMANCE. 

I.  The  Overture — Commencement  of  the  Business.....    .  269 

11.  The  Last  Days  of  the  Lion 280 

III.  St.  George  for  England 287 

IV.  Ivanhoe  Redivivus 294 

V.  Ivanhoe  to  the  Rescue 300 

VI.  Ivanhoe  the  Widower 307 

VI  I.  The  End  of  the  Performance 315 

THE    HISTORY   OF  THE   NEXT   FRENCH   REVOLU- 
TION.    

I 325 

II.  Henry  V.  and  Napoleon  III 329 

III.  The  Advance  of  the  Pretenders — Historical  Review..  .  334 

IV.  The  Battle  of  Rheims 338 

V.  The  Battle  of  Tours 340 

VI.  The  English  under  Jenkins 345 

VI  I.  The  Leaguer  of  Paris 349 

VIII.  The  Battle  of  the  Forts 352 

IX.  Louis  XVII 353 


CONTENTS.  vil 

COX'S  DIARY. 

PASS, 

The  Announcement 361 

First  Rout 364 

A  Day  with  the  Surrey  Hounds 368 

The  Finishing  Touch 372 

A  New  Drop-Scene  at  the  Opera 375 

Striking  a  Balance 379 

Down  at  Beulah 383 

A  Tournament 387 

Over-Boarded  and  Under-Lodged 390 

Notice  to  Quit 394 

Law  Life  Assurance 398 

Family  Bustle 401 

THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH. 

Miss  Shum's  Husband 407 

TtTE  Amours  of  Mr.  Deuceace 424 

■  •    FoRiNG  Parts 437 

Mr.  Deuceace  at  Paris 445 

I.  The  Two  Bundles  of  Hay 445 

11.  "  Honor  Thy  Father  " 45o 

III.  Minewvring 456 

IV.  "  Hitting  the  Nale  on  the  Hedd  " 462 

V.  The  Griffin's  Claws 465 

VI.  The  Jewel 468 

VI I.  The  Consquinsies 474 

VIII.  The  End  of  Mr.  Deuceace's  History.     Limbo 478 

IX.  The  Marriage 491 

X.  The  Honey-Moon 493 

Mr.  Yellowplush's  Ajew 500 

Skimmings  from  "  The  Diary  of  George  IV.". ...  510 
Epistles  TO  THE  Literati 519 

THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

Fitz-Boodle's  Confessions 537 

Dorothea 558 

Ottilia. 

I.  The  Album— The  Mediterranean  Heath 571 

II.  Ottilia  in  Particular 574 

Fitz-Boodle's  Professions. 

First  Profession 5^6 

Second  Profession 59^ 


vfti  CONTENTS. 

THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB 613 

THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

\.  Of  the  Loves  of  Mr.  Perkins  and  Miss  Gorgon,  and  of 

the  two  Great  Factions  in  the  Town  of  Oldborough. .  665 
n.  Shows  how  the  Plot  began  to  thicken  in  or  about  Bed- 
ford Row !  681 

in.  Behind  the  Scenes 693 

A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TIMMINS'S 708 

THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 

January. — The  Birth  of  the  Year 735 

February. — Cutting  Weather 738 

March. — Showery 742 

April. — Fooling « 745 

May. — Restoration  Day 749 

June.^Marrowbones  and  Cleavers 753 

July. — Summary  Proceedings 756 

August. — Dogs  have  their  Days 760 

September. — Plucking  a  Goose 763 

October. — Mars  and  Venus  in  Opposition 767 

November. — A  General  Post  Delivery 770 

December. — "  The  Winter  of  our  Discontent " 774 

LITTLE  TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCHES. 

I. — From  Richmond  in  Surrey  to  Brussels  in  Belgium.  781 

1 1. — Ghent — Bruges 800 

III.— Waterloo 810 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


GEORGE     DE     BARNWELL. 

By  Sir  E.  L.  B.  L.,  Bart. 


Vol.  I. 

In  the  Morning  of  Life  the  Truthful  wooed  the  Beautiful, 
and  their  offspring  was  Love.  Like  his  Divine  parents,  He  is 
eternal.  He  has  his  Mother's  ravishing  smile  ;  his  Father's 
steadfast  eyes.  He  rises  every  day,  fresh  and  glorious  as  the 
untired  Sun-God.  He  is  Eros,  the  ever  young.  Dark,  dark 
were  this  world  of  ours  had  either  Divinity  left  it — dark  with- 
out the  day-beams  of  the  Latonian  Charioteer,  darker  yet 
without  the  daedal  Smile  of  the  God  of  the  Other  Bow !  Dost 
know  him,  reader  ? 

Old  is  he,  Eros,  the  ever  young.  He  and  Time  were  chil- 
dren together.  Chronos  shall  die,  too ;  but  Love  is  imperish- 
able. Brightest  of  the  Divinities,  where  hast  thou  not  been 
sung  ?  Other  worships  pass  away ;  the  idols  for  whom  pyramids 
were  raised  lie  in  the  desert  crumbling  and  almost  nameless  ; 
the  Olympians  are  fled,  their  fanes  no  longer  rise  among  the 
quivering  olive-groves  of  Ilissus,  or  crown  the  emerald-islets  of 
the  amethyst  ^gean !  These  are  gone,  but  thou  remainest. 
There  is  still  a  garland  for  thy  temple,  a  heifer  for  thy  stone. 
A  heifer  ?  Ah,  many  a  darker  sacrifice.  Other  blood  is  shed 
at  thy  altars.  Remorseless  One,  and  the  Poet  Priest  who  minis- 
ters at  thy  Shrine  draws  his  auguries  from  the  bleeding  hearts 
of  menl 


g  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 

While  Love  hath  no  end,  Can  the  Bard  ever  cease  singing? 
In  Kingly  and  Heroic  ages,  'twas  of  Kings  and  Heroes  that  the 
Poet  spake.  But  in  these,  our  times,  the  Artisan  hath  his  voice 
as  well  as  the  Monarch.  The  people  To-Day  is  King,  and  we 
chronicle  his  woes,  as  They  of  old  did  the  sacrifice  of  the 
princely  Iphigenia,  or  the  fate  of  the  crowned  Agamemnon. 

Is  Odysseus  less  august  in  his  rags  than  in  his  purple? 
Fate,  Passion,  Mystery,  the  Victim,  the  Avenger,  the  Hate  that 
harms,  the  Furies  that  tear,  the  Love  that  bleeds,  are  not  these 
with  us  still  ?  are  not  these  still  the  weapons  of  the  Artist  ?  the 
colors  of  his  palette  ?  the  chords  of  his  lyre  ?  Listen  !  I  tell 
thee  a  tale — not  of  Kings — but  of  Men — not  of  Thrones,  but 
of  Love,  and  Grief,  and  Crime.  Listen,  and  but  once  more. 
'Tis  for  the  last  time  (probably)  these  fingers  shall  sweep  the 

strings. 

E.  L.  B.  L. 

NOONDAY   IN    CHEPE. 

'TwAS  noonday  in  Chepe.  High  Tide  in  the  mighty  River 
City !— its  banks  wellnigh  overflowing  with  the  myriad-waved 
Stream  of  Man !  The  toppling  wains,  bearing  the  produce  of 
a  thousand  marts  ;  the  gilded  equipage  of  the  Millionary ;  the 
humbler,  but  yet  larger  vehicle  from  the  green  metropolitan 
suburbs  (the  Hanging  Gardens  of  our  Babylon),  in  which  every 
traveller  might,  for  a  modest  remuneration,  take  a  republican 
seat ;  the  mercenary  caroche,  with  its  private  freight  ;  the  brisk 
curricle  of  the  letter-carrier,  robed  in  royal  scarlet :  these  and 
a  thousand  others  were  laboring  and  pressing  onward,  and 
locked  and  bound  and  hustling  together  in  the  narrow  channel 
of  C:hepe.  The  imprecations  of  the  charioteers  were  terrible. 
From  the  noble's  broidered  hammer-cloth,  or  the  driving-seat  of 
the  common  coach,  each  driver  assailed  the  other  with  floods 
of  ribald  satire.  The  pavid  matron  within  the  one  vehicle 
(speeding  to  the  Bank  for  her  semestrial  pittance)  shrieked  and 
trembled ;  the  angry  Dives  hastening  to  his  office  (to  add 
another  thousand  to  his  heap),  thrust  his  head  over  the  blazoned 
panels,  and  displayed  an  eloquence  of  objurgation  which  his 
very  Menials  could  not  equal ;  the  dauntless  street  urchins,  as 
they  gayly  threaded  the  Labyrinth  of  Life,  enjoyed  the  per- 
plexities and  quarrels  of  the  scene,  and  exacerbated  the  already 
furious  combatants  by  their  poignant  infantile  satire.  And  the 
Philosopher,  as  he  regarded  the" hot  strife  and  struggle  of  these 
Candidates  in  the  race  for  Gold,  thought  with  a  sigh  of  tha 


GEORGE  DM  BARNWELL.  9 

Truthful  and  the  Beautiful,  and  walked  on,  melancholy  and 
serene. 

'Twas  noon  in  Chepe.  The  warerooms  were  thronged.  The 
flaunting  windows  of  the  mercers  attracted  many  a  purchaser  : 
the  glittering  panes  behind  which  Birmingham  had  glazed  its 
simulated  silver,  induced  rustics  to  pause  ;  although  only  noon, 
the  savory  odors  of  the  Cook  Shops  tempted  the  over  hungry 
citizen  to  the  bun  of  Bath,  or  to  the  fragrant  potage  that  mocks 
the  turtle's  flavor — the  turtle  !  O  dapibus  sjtpremi grata  testudo 
Juvis !  I  am  an  Alderman  when  I  think  of  thee  !  Well :  it 
ivas  noon  in  Chepe. 

But  were  all  battling  for  gain  there  ?  Among  the  many  bril- 
liant shops  whose  casements  shone  upon  Chepe,  there  stood  one 
a  century  back  (about  which  period  our  tale  opens)  devoted  to 
the  sale  of  Colonial  produce.  A  rudely  carved  image  of  a 
negro,  with  a  fantastic  plume  and  apron  of  variegated  feathers, 
decorated  the  lintel.  The  East  and  West  had  sent  their  con- 
tributions to  replenish  the  window. 

The  poor  slave  had  toiled,  died  perhaps,  to  produce  yon 
pyramid  of  swarthy  sugar  marked  "  Only  6^^'." — That  catty 
box,  on  which  was  the  epigraph  "  Strong  Family  Congo  only 
3^-,  gdr  was  from  the  country  of  Confutzee — that  heap  of  dark 
produce  bore  the  legend  "TRY  OUR  REAL  NUT  "—'Twas 
Cocoa — and  that  nut  the  Cocoa-nut,  whose  milk  has  refreshed 
the  traveller  and  perplexed  the  natural  philosopher.  The  shop 
in  question  was,  in  a  word,  a  Grocer's. 

In  the  midst  of  the  shop  and  its  gorgeous  contents  sat  one 
who,  to  judge  from  his  appearance  (though  'twas  a  difficult  task, 
as,  in  sooth,  his  back  was  turned),  had  just  reached  that  happy 
period  of  life  when  the  Boy  is  expanding  into  the  Man.  O 
Youth,  Youth  !  Happy  and  Beautiful !  O  fresh  and  roseate 
dawn  of  life ;  when  the  dew  yet  lies  on  the  flowers,  ere  they 
have  been  scorched  and  withered  by  Passion's  fiery  Sun !  Im- 
mersed in  thought  or  study,  and  indifferent  to  the  din  around 
him,  sat  the  boy.  A  careless  guardian  was  he  of  the  treasures 
confided  to  him.  The  crowd  passed  in  Chepe  ;  he  never  marked 
it.  The  sun  shone  on  Chepe ;  he  only  asked  that  it  should 
illumine  the  page  he  read.  The  knave  might  filch  his  treasures ; 
he  was  heedless  of  the  knave.  The  customer  might  enter  ]  but 
his  book  was  all  in  all  to  him. 

And  indeed  a  customer  ivas  there  ;  a  little  hand  was  tapping 
on  the  counter  with  a  pretty  impatience  ;  a  pair  of  arch  eyes 
were  gazing  at  the  boy,  admiring,  perhaps,  his  manly  proper 
tions  through  the  homely  and  tightened  garments  he  wore. 


lo  NO  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 

"  Ahem  !  sir !  I  say,  young  man !  "  the  customer  exclaimed. 

"  Ton  a' apamcibomenos  prosephe,"  read  on  the  student,  his 
voice  choked  with  emotion.  "  What  language  ! "  he  said ;  "  how 
rich,  how  noble,  how  sonorous  !  prosephe  podas " 

The  customer  burst  out  into  a  fit  of  laughter  so  shrill  and 
cheery,  that  the  young  Student  could  not  but  turn  round,  and 
blushing,  for  the  first  time  remarked  her.  "  A  pretty  grocer's 
boy  you  are,"  she  cried,  "  with  your  applepiebomenos  and  your 
French  and  lingo.     Am  I  to  be  kept  waiting  for  hever  ?  " 

"  Pardon,  fair  Maiden,"  said  he,  with  a  high-bred  courtesy  ; 
"  'twas  not  French  I  read,  'twas  the  Godlike  language  of  the 
blind  old  bard.  In  what  can  I  be  serviceable  to  ye,  lady  ? " 
and  to  spring  from  his  desk,  to  smooth  his  apron,  to  stand  be- 
fore her  the  obedient  Shop  Boy,  the  Poet  no  more,  was  the 
work  of  a  moment. 

"  I  might  have  prigged  this  box  of  figs,"  the  damsel  said 
good-naturedly,  "  and  you'd  never  have  turned  round." 

"  They  came  from  the  country  of  Hector,"  the  boy  said. 
"  Would  you  have  currants,  lady  ?  These  once  bloomed  in  the 
island  gardens  of  the  blue  ^gean.  They  are  uncommon  fine 
ones,  and  the  figure  is  low ;  they're  fourpence-halfpenny  apound. 
Would  ye  mayhap  make  trial  of  our  teas  ?  We  do  not  adver- 
tise, as  some  folks  do ;  but  sell  as  low  as  any  other  house." 

"  You're  precious  young  to  have  all  these  good  things,"  the 
girl  exclaimed,  not  unwilling,  seemingly,  to  prolong  the  conversa- 
tion. "  If  I  was  you,  and  stood  behind  the  counter,  I  should 
be  eating  figs  the  whole  day  long." 

*'  Time  was,"  answered  the  lad,  "  and  not  long  gince  I  thought 
so  too.  I  thought  I  never  should  be  tired  of  figs.  But  my  old 
uncle  bade  me  take  my  fill,  and  now  in  sooth  I  am  aweary  of 
them." 

"  I  think  you  gentlemen  are  always  so,"  the  coquette  said. 

"  Nay,  say  not  so,  fair  stranger  !  "  the  youth  replied,  his 
face  kindling  as  he  spoke,  and  his  eagle  eyes  flashing  fire. 
"  Figs  pall ;  but  oh  !  the  Beautiful  never  does.  Figs  rot ;  but 
oh !  the  Truthful  is  eternal.  I  was  born,  lady,  to  grapple  with 
the  Lofty  and  the  Ideal.  My  soul  yearns  for  the  Visionary.  I 
stand  behind  the  counter,  it  is  true  ;  but  I  ponder  here  upon 
the  deeds  of  heroes,  and  muse  over  the  thoughts  of  sages. 
What  is  grocery  for  one  who  has  ambition  ?  What  sweetness 
hath  Muscovado  to  him  who  hath  tasted  of  Poesy  ?  The  Ideal, 
lady,  I  often  think,  is  the  true  Real,  and  the  Actual  but  a 
visionary  hallucination.  But  pardon  me;  with  what  may  I 
serve  thee  ? " 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL.  U 

"  I  came  only  for  sixpenn'orth  of  tea-dust,"  the  girl  said, 
with  a  faltering  voice ;  "but  oh,  I  should  like  to  hear  you  speak 
on  forever !  " 

Only  for  sixpenn'orth  of  tea-dust  ?  Girl,  thou  earnest  for 
other  things  !  Thou  lovedst  his  voice  ?  Siren  !  what  was  the 
witchery  of  thine  own  ?  He  deftly  made  up  the  packet,  and 
placed  it  in  the  little  hand.  She  paid  for  her  small  purchase, 
and  with  a  farewell  glance  of  her  lustrous  eyes,  she  left  him. 
She  passed  slowly  through  the  portal,  and  in  a  moment^more 
was  lost  in  the  crowd.  It  was  noon  in  Chepe.  And  George 
de  Barnwell  was  alone. 


Vol.  II.  ^ 

We  have  selected  the  following  episodical  chapter  in  prefer 
ence  to  anything  relating  to  the  mere  story  of  George  Barnwell, 
with  which  most  readers  are  familiar. 

Up  to  this  passage  (extracted  from  the  beginning  of  Vol. 
ri.)  the  tale  is  briefly  thus  : 

The  rogue  of  a  Millwood  has  come  back  every  day  to  the 
grocer's  shop  in  Chepe,  wanting  some  sugar,  or  some  nutmeg, 
or  some  figs,  half  a  dozen  times  in  the  week. 

She  and  George  de  Barnwell  have  vowed  to  each  other  an 
eternal  attachment. 

This  flame  acts  violently  upon  George.  His  bosom  swells 
with  ambition.  His  genius  breaks  out  prodigiously.  He  talks 
about  the  Good,  the  Beautiful,  the  Ideal,  &c.,  in  and  out  of  all 
season,  and  is  virtuous  and  eloquent  almost  beyond  belief — in 
fact  like  Devereux,  or  P.  Clifford,  or  E.  Aram,  Esquires. 

Inspired  by  Millwood  and  love,  George  robs  the  till,  and 
mingles  in  the  world  which  he  is  destined  to  ornament.  He 
outdoes  all  the  dandies,  all  the  wits,  all  the  scholars,  and  all  the 
voluptuaries  of  the  age — an  indefinite  period  of  time  between 
Queen  Anne  and  George  II. — dines  with  Curll  at  St.  John's 
Gate,  pinks  Colonel  Charteris  in  a  duel  behind  Montague 
House,  is  initiated  into  the  intrigues  of  the  Chevalier  St. 
George,  whom  he  entertains  at  his  sumptuous  pavilion  at  Hamp- 
stead,  and  likewise  in  disguise  at  the  shop  in  Cheapside, 

His  uncle,  the  owner  of  the  shop,  a  surly  curmudgeon  with 
very  little  taste  for  the  True  and  Beautiflil,  has  retired  frora 


ti  NO  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 

business  to  the  pastoral  village  in  Cambridgeshire  from  which 
the  noble  Barnwells  came.  George's  cousin  Annabel  is,  of 
course,  consumed  with  a  secret  passion  for  him. 

Some  trifling  inaccuracies  may  be  remarked  in  the  ensuing 
brilliant  little  chapter;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  au- 
thor wished  to  present  an  age  at  a  glance  :  and  the  dialogue  is 
quite  as  fine  and  correct  as  that  in  the  "  Last  of  the  Barons," 
or  in  "  Eugene  Aram,"  or  other  works  of  our  author,  in  which 
Sentiment  and  History,  or  the  True  and  Beautiful,  are  united. 


Chapter  XXIV. 
button's  in  pall  mall. 

Those  who  frequent  the  dismal  and  enormous  Mansions  of 
Silence  which  society  has  raised  to  Ennui  in  that  Omphalos  of 
town,  Pall  Mall,  and  which,  because  they  knock  you  down  with 
their  dulness,  are  called  Clubs  no  doubt  ;  those  who  yawn  from 
a  bay-window  in  St.  James's  Street,  at  a  half-score  of  other 
dandies  gaping  from  another  bay-window  over  the  way  ;  those 
who  consult  a  dreary  evening  paper  for  news,  or  satisfy  them- 
selves with  the  jokes  of  the  miserable  Punch  by  way  of  wit ; 
the  men  about  town  of  the  present  day,  in  a  word,  can  have 
but  little  idea  of  London  some  six  or  eightscore  years  back. 
Thou  pudding-sided  old  dandy  of  St.  James's  Street,  with  thy 
lackered  boots,  thy  dyed  whiskers,  and  thy  suffocating  waist- 
band, what  art  thou  to  thy  brilliant  predecessor  in  the  same 
quarter  ?  The  Brougham  from  which  thou  descendest  at  the 
portal  of  the  "  Carlton  "  or  the  "  Traveller's,"  is  like  every- 
body else's  ;  thy  black  coat  has  no  more  plaits,  nor  buttons, 
nor  fancy  in  it  than  thy  neighbor's  ;  thy  hat  was  made  on  the 
very  block  on  which  Lord  Addlepate's  was  cast,  who  has  just 
entered  the  Club  before  thee.  You  and  he  yawn  together  out 
of  the  same  omnibus-box  every  night ;  you  fancy  yourselves 
men  of  pleasure  ;  you  fancy  yourselves  men  of  fashion ;  you 
fancy  yourselves  men  of  taste  ;  in  fancy,  in  taste,  in  opinion,  in 
philosophy,  the  newspaper  legislates  for  you  ;  it  is  there  you 
get  your  jokes  and  your  thoughts,  and  your  facts  and  your  wis- 
dom— poor  Pall  Mall  dullards.  Stupid  slaves  of  the  press,  on 
that  ground  which  you  at  present  occupy,  there  were  men  of 
wit  and  pleasure  and  fashion,  some  five-and-twenty  lustres  ago. 

We  are  at  Button's — the  well-known  sign  of  the  ''  Turk's 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL. 


13 


k 


Head."  The  crowd  of  periwigged  heads  at  the  windows — the 
.swearing  chairmen  round  the  steps  (the  blazoned  and  coro- 
-nailed  panels  of  whose  vehicles  denote  the  lofty  rank  of  their 
owners), — the  throng  of  embroidered  beaux  entering  or  depart- 
ing, and  rendering  the  air  fragrant  with  the  odors  of  pulvillio 
and  pomander,  proclaim  the  celebrated  resort  of  London's  Wit 
and  Fashion.  It  is  the  corner  of  Regent  Street.  Carlton 
House  has  not  yet  been  taken  down. 

A  stately  gentleman  in  crimson  velvet  and  gold  is  sipping 
chocolate  at  one  of  the  tables,  in  earnest  converse  with  a  friend 
whose  suit  is  likewise  embroidered,  but  stained  by  time,  or 
wine  mayhap,  or  wear.  A  little  deformed  gentleman  in  iron- 
gray  is  reading  the  Morning  Chronicle  newspaper  by  the  fire, 
while  a  divine,  with  a  broad  brogue  and  a  shovel  hat  and  cas- 
sock, is  talking  freely  with  a  gentleman,  whose  star  and  ribbon, 
as  well  as  the  unmistakable  beauty  of  his  Phidian  counte- 
nance, proclaims  him  to  be  a  member  of  Britain's  aristocracy. 

Two  ragged  youths,  the  one  tall,  gaunt,  clumsy  and  scrofu- 
lous, the  other  with  a  wild,  careless,  beautiful  look,  evidently 
indicating  Race,  are  gazing  in  at  the  window,  not  merely  at  the 
crowd  in  the  celebrated  Club,  but  at  Timothy  the  waiter,  who 
is  removing  a  plate  of  that  exquisite  dish,  the  muffin  (then 
newly  invented),  at  tire  desire  of  some  of  the  revellers  within. 

"  I  would,  Sam,"  said  the  wild  youth  to  his  companion, 
"  that  I  had  some  of  my  mother  Macclesfield's  gold,  to  enable 
us  to  eat  of  those  cates  and  mingle  with  yon  springalds  and 
beaux." 

"  To  vaunt  a  knowledge  of  the  stoical  philosophy,"  said 
the  youth  addressed  as  Sam,  "  might  elicit  a  smile  of  incredulity 
upon  the  cheek  of  the  parasite  of  pleasure  ;  but  there  are 
moments  in  life  when  History  fortifies  endurance  :  and  past 
study  renders  present  deprivation  more  bearable.  If  our  pe- 
cuniary resources  be  exiguous,  let  our  resolution,  Dick,  supply 
the  deficiencies  of  Fortune.  The  muffin  we  desire  to-day  would 
little  benefit  us  to-morrow.  Poor  and  hungry  as  we  are,  are  we 
less  happy,  Dick,  than  yon  listless  voluptuary  who  banquets  on 
the  food  which  you  covet .''  " 

And  the  two  lads  turned  away  up  Waterloo  Place,  and  past 
the  "  Parthenon  "  Club-house,  and  disappeared  to  take  a  meal 
of  cow-heel  at  a  neighboring  cook's  shop.  Their  names  were 
Samuel  Johnson  and  Richard  Savage. 

Meanwhile  the  conversation  at  Button's  was  fast  and  bril- 
liant. "  By  Wood's  thirteens,  and  the  divvle  go  wid  'em," 
cried  the  Church  dignitary  in  the  cassock,  "  is  it  in  bltje  an4 


14 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


goold  ye  are  this  morning,  Sir  Richard,  when  you  ought  to  be 
in  seebles  ?  " 

''  Who's  dead,  Dean  ?  "  said  the  nobleman,  the  dean's  com* 
panion. 

"  Faix,  mee  Lard  Bolingbroke,  as  sure  as  mee  name's  Jona- 
than Swift — and  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that  neither,  for  who  knows 
his  father's  name  ? — there's  been  a  mighty  cruel  murther  com- 
mitted entirely.  A  child  of  Dick  Steele's  has  been  barbarously 
slain,  dthrawn,  and  quartheredj  and  it's  Joe  Addison  yondther 
has  done  it.  Ye  should  have  killed  one  of  your  own,  Joe,  ye 
thafe  of  the  world." 

"  I !  "  said  the  amazed  and  Right  Honorable  Joseph  Ad- 
dison ;  "  I  kill  Dick's  child  !     I  was  godfather  to  the  last." 

"  And  promised  a  cup  and  never  sent  it,"  Dick  ejaculated. 
Joseph  looked  grave. 

"The  child  I  mean  is  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  Knight  and 
Baronet.  What  made  ye  kill  him,  ye  savage  Mohock  ?  The 
whole  town  is  in  tears  about  the  good  knight ;  all  the  ladies  at 
Church  this  afternoon  were  in  mourning  ;  all  the  booksellers  are 
wild  ;  and  Lintot  says  not  a  third  of  the  copies  of  the  Spectator 
are  sold  since  the  death  of  the  brave  old  gentleman."  And  the 
Dean  of  St.  Patrick's  pulled  out  the  Spectator  newspaper,  con- 
taining the  well-known  passage  regarding  Sir  Roger's  death. 
*'  I  bought  it  but  now  in  '  Wellington  Street,'  "  he  said  ;  "  the 
newsboys  were  howling  all  down  the  Strand." 

"  What  a  miracle  is  Genius — Genius,  the  Divine  and  Beauti- 
ful," said  a  gentleman  leaning  against  the  same  fireplace  with 
the  deformed  cavalier  in  iron-gray,  and  addressing  that  indi- 
vidual, who  was  in  fact  Mr.  Alexander  Pope.  "  What  a  mar- 
vellous gift  is  this,  and  royal  privilege  of  Art !  To  make  the 
Ideal  more  credible  than  the  Actual  :  to  enchain  our  hearts, 
to  command  our  hopes,  our  regrets,  our  tears,  for  a  mere  brain- 
born  Emanation  :  to  invest  with  life  the  Incorporeal,  and  to 
glamor  the  cloudy  into  substance, — these  are  the  lofty  privi- 
leges of  the  Poet,  if  I  have  read  poesy  aright ;  and  I  am  as 
familiar  with  the  sounds  that  rang  from  Homer's  lyre,  as  with 
the  strains  which  celebrate  the  loss  of  Belinda's  lovely  locks  " 
— (Mr.  Pope  blushed  and  bowed,  highly  delighted) — "  these,  I 
say,  sir,  are  the  privileges  of  the  Poet — the  Poietes — the  Maker 
— he  moves  the  world,  and  asks  no  lever ;  if  he  cannot  charm 
death  into  life,  as  Orpheus  feigned  to  do,  he  can  create  Beauty 
out  of  Nought,  and  defy  Death  by  rendering  Thought  Eternal. 
Ho  !  Jemmy,  another  flask  of  Nantz." 

And  the  boy — for  he  who  addressed  the  most  brilliant  com* 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL, 


>s 


pany  of  wits  in  Europe  was  little  more — emptied  the  contents 
of  the  brandy-flask  into  a  silver  flagon,  and  quaffed  it  gayly  to 
the  health  of  the  company  assembled.  'Twas  the  third  he  had 
taken  during  the  sitting.  Presently,  and  with  a  graceful  salute 
to  the  Society,  he  quitted  the  coffee-house,  and  was  seen  can- 
tering on  a  magnificent  Arab  past  the  National  Gallery. 

"  Who  is  yon  spark  in  blue  and  silver  ?  He  beats  Joe  Ad- 
dison himself,  in  drinking,  and  pious  Joe  is  the  greatest  toper 
in  the  three  kingdoms,"  Dick  Steele  said,  good-naturedly. 

"  His  papers  in  the  Spectator  beat  thy  best,  Dick,  thou  slug- 
gard," the  Right  Honorable  Mr.  Addison  exclaimed.  "  He  is 
the  author  of  that  famous  No.  996,  for  which  you  have  all  been 
giving  me  the  credit." 

"  The  rascal  foiled  me  at  capping  verses,"  Dean  Swift  said, 
"  and  won  a  tenpenny  piece  of  me,  plague  take  him  ! " 

"  He  has  suggested  an  emendation  in  my  '  Homer,'  which 
proves  him  a  delicate  scholar,"  Mr.  Pope  exclaimed. 

"  He  knows  more  of  the  French  king  than  any  man  I  have 
met  with ;  and  we  must  have  an  eye  upon  him,"  said  Lord 
Bolingbroke,  then  Secretary  of  State  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and 
beckoning  a  suspicious-looking  person  who  was  drinking  at  a 
side-table,  whispered  to  him  something. 

Meantime  who  was  he  .?  where  was  he,  this  youth  who  had 
struck  all  the  wits  of  London  with  admiration  ?  His  galloping 
charger  had  returned  to  the  City  ;  his  splendid  court-suit  was 
doffed  for  the  citizen's  gaberdine  and  grocer's  humble  apron. 

George  de  Barnwell  was  in  Chepe — in  Chepe,  at  the  feet  of 
Martha  Millwood. 


Vol  hi. 
the  condemned  cell. 


"  Quid  me  molUbus  implicas  lacertis,  my  Ellinor  ?  Nay," 
George  added,  a  faint  smile  illumining  his  wan  but  noble  fea- 
tures, "  why  speak  to  thee  in  the  accents  of  the  Roman  poet, 
which  thou  comprehendest  not  ?  Bright  One,  there  be  other 
things  in  Life,  in  Nature,  in  this  Inscrutable  Labyrinth,  this 
Heart  on  which  thou  leanest,  which  are  equally  unintelligible 
to  thee  !  Yes,  my  pretty  one,  what  is  the  Unintelligible  but 
the  Ideal  ?  what  is  the  Ideal  but  the  Beautiful  ?  what  the  Beau- 
tiful but  the  Eternal  ?     And  the  Spirit  of  Man  that  would  com* 


,6  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 

niune  with  these  is  like  Him  who  wanders  by  the  thina  polu* 
phloisboio  thalasscs,  and  shrinks  awe-struck  before  that  Azure 
Mystery." 

Emily's  eyes  filled  with  fresh-gushing  dew.  "  Speak  on, 
speak  ever  thus,  my  George,"  she  exclaimed.  Barnwell's 
chains  rattled  as  the  confiding  girl  clung  to  him.  Even  Snog- 
gin,  the  Turnkey  appointed  to  sit  with  the  Prisoner,  was  af- 
fected by  his  noble  and  appropriate  language,  and  also  burst 
into  tears. 

"  You  weep,  my  Snoggin,"  the  Boy  said  ;  "  and  why  ?  Hath 
Life  been  so  charming  to  me  that  I  should  wish  to  retain  it  ? 
Hath  Pleasure  no  after-Weariness  ?  Ambition  no  Deception  ; 
Wealth  no  Care ;  and  Glory  no  Mockery  ?  Psha !  1  am 
sick  of  Success,  palled  of  Pleasure,  weary  of  Wine  !  and  W^it, 
and — nay,  start  not,  my  Adelaide — and  Woman.  I  fling  away 
all  these  things  as  the  Toys  of  Boyhood.  Life  is  the  Soul's 
Nursery.  I  am  a  Man,  and  pine  for  the  Illimitable  !  Mark 
you  me  !  Has  the  Morrow  any  terrors  for  me,  think  ye  "i 
Did  Socrates  falter  at  his  poison  ?  Did  Seneca  blench  in  his 
bath .?  Did  Crutus  shirk  the  sword  when  his  great  stake  was 
lost  ?  Did  even  weak  Cleopatra  shrink  from  the  Serpent's 
fatal  nip  ?  And  why  should  I  ?  My  great  Hazard  hath  been 
played,  and  I  pay  my  forfeit.  Lie  sheathed  in  my  heart,  thou 
flashing  Blade  !  Welcome  to  my  Bosom,  thou  faithful  Serpent ; 
I  hug  thee,  peace-bearing  Image  of  the  Eternal !  Ha,  the 
hemlock  cup !  Fill  high,  boy,  for  my  soul  is  thirsty  for  the 
Infinite !  Get  ready  the  bath,  friends  ;  prepare  me  for  the 
feast  To-morrow — bathe  my  limbs  in  odors,  and  put  ointment 
in  my  hair." 

"  Has  for  a  bath,"  Snoggin  interposed,  "  they're  not  to  be 
'ad  in  this  ward  of  the  prison  ;  but  I  dussay  Hemmy  will  git 
you  a  little  hoil  for  your  'air." 

The  Prisoned  One  laughed  loud  and  merrily.  "  My  guar- 
dian understands  me  not,  pretty  one — and  thou .-'  what  sayest 
thou  ?  From  those  dear  lips  methinks — plura  sunt  oscula  quajtt 
sententue — I  kiss  away  thy  tears,  dove ! — they  will  flow  apace 
when  I  am  gone,  then  they  will  dry,  and  presently  these  fair 
eyes  will  shine  on  another,  as  they  have  beamed  on  poor  George 
Barnwell.  Yet  wilt  thou  not  all  forget  hini,  sweet  one.  He 
was  an  honest  fellow,  and  had  a  kindly  heart  for  all  the  world 
said — " 

"  That,  that  he  had,"  cried  the  jailer  and  the  girl  in  voices 
gurgling  with  emotion.  And  you  who  read !  you  unconvicted 
Convict — you  murderer,  though  haply  you  have  slain  no  one— 


GEORGE  DE  BARNWELL. 


17 


you  Felon  in  posse  \i  not  in  esse — deal  gently  with  one  who  has 

used  the  Opportunity  that  has  failed  thee — and  believe  that 

the  Truthful  and  the  Beautiful  bloom  sometimes  in  the  dock 

and  the  convict's  tawny  Gaberdine  ! 

***** 

In  the  matter  for  which  he  suffered,  George  could  never  be 
brought  to  acknowledge  that  he  was  at  all  in  the  wrong.  "  It 
may  be  an  error  of  judgment,"  he  said  to  the  Venerable  Chaplain 
of  the  jail,  "but  it  is  no  crime.  Were  it  Crime,  I  should  feel 
Remorse.  Where  there  is  no  remorse,  Crime  cannot  exist.  I 
am  not  sorry  :  therefore,  I  am  innocent.  Is  the  proposition  a 
fair  one  ? " 


The  excellent  Doctor  admitted  that  it  was  not  to  be  con 
tested. 


Xg  NO  VELS  B  Y  E^JINEXT  HANDS. 

"  And  wherefore,  sir,  should  I  have  sorrow,"  the  Boy  re« 
sumed,  "  for  ridding  the  world  of  a  sordid  worm  ;  *  of  a  man 
whose  very  soul  was  dross,  and  who  never  had  a  feeling  for  the 
Truthful  and  the  Beautiful  ?  When  I  stood  before  my  uncle  in 
the  moonlight,  in  the  gardens  of  the  ancestral  halls  of  the  De 
Barnwells,  I  felt  that  it  was  the  Nemesis  come  to  overthrow  him. 
*  Dog,'  I  said  to  the  trembling  slave,  '  tell  me  where  thy  Gold  is. 
T/iou  hast  no  use  for  it.  I  can  spend  it  in  relieving  the  Poverty 
on  which  thou  tramplest ;  in  aiding  Science,  which  thou  knowest 
not ;  in  up-lifting  Art,  to  which  thou  art  blind.  Give  Gold, 
and  thou  art  free.'     But  he  spake  not,  and  I  slew  him." 

"  I  would  not  have  this  doctrine  vulgarly  promulgated," 
said  the  admirable  chaplain,  "  for  its  general  practice  might 
chance  to  do  harm.  Thou,  my  son,  the  Refined,  the  Gentle, 
the  Loving  and  Beloved,  the  Poet  and  Sage,  urged  by  what  I 
cannot  but  think  a  grievous  error,  hast  appeared  as  Avenger. 
Think  what  would  be  the  world's  condition,  were  men  without 
any  Yearning  after  the  Ideal  to  attempt  to  reorganize  Society, 
to  redistribute  Property,  to  avenge  Wrong." 

"  A  rabble  of  pygmies  scaling  Heaven,"  said  the  noble 
though  misguided  young  Prisoner.  "  Prometheus  was  a  Giant, 
and  he  fell." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  my  brave  youth  !  "  the  benevolent  Dr.  Fuzwig 
exclaimed,  clasping  the  Prisoner's  marble  and  manacled  hand  ; 
"  and  the  Tragedy  of  To-morrow  will  teach  the  World  that 
Homicide  is  not  to  be  permitted  even  to  the  most  amiable 
Genius,  and  that  the  lover  of  the  Ideal  and  the  Beautiful,  as 
thou  art,  my  son,  must  respect  the  Real  likewise." 

"  Look  !  here  is  supper  !  "  cried  Barnwell  gayly.  "This  is 
the  Real,  Doctor  ;  let  us  respect  it  and  fall  to."  He  partook 
of  the  meal  as  joyously  as  if  it  had  been  one  of  his  early  festals  ; 
but  the  worthy  chaplain  could  scarcely  eat  it  for  tears. 

•  This  is  a  gross  plagiarism  ;  the  above  sentiment  is  expressed  much  more  eloquently 
n  the  ingenious  romance  of  Eug^ene  Aratn  : — "The  burning  desires  I  have  known — the 
resplendent  visions  I  have  nursed — the  sublime  aspirings  that  have  lifted  me  so  often  from 
sense  and  clay:  these  tell  me  that  whether  for  good  or  ill  I  am  the  thing  of  an  immortality, 
and  the  creature  of  a  God.  »  *  *  *  j  have  destroyed  a  man  noxious  to  the  world 
with  the  wealth  by  which  he  afflicted  society,  I  have  been  the  means  of  blessing  many." 


CODLINGSBY. 

By    D.   Shrewsbkrry,    Esq. 


"  The  whole  world  is  bound  by  one  chain.  In  every  city  in 
the  globe  there  is  one  quarter  that  certain  travellers  know  and 
recognize  from  its  likeness  to  its  brother  district  in  all  other 
places  where  are  congregated  the  habitations  of  men.  In 
Tehran,  or  Pekin,  or  Stamboul,  or  New  York,  or  Timbuctoo, 
or  London,  there  is  a  certain  district  where  a  certain  man  is 
not  a  stranger.  Where  the  idols  are  fed  with  incense  by  the 
streams  of  Ching-wang-foo  ;  where  the  minarets  soar  sparkling 
above  the  cypresses,  their  reflections  quivering  in  the  lucid 
waters  of  the  Golden  Horn  ;  where  the  yellow  Tiber  flows  under 
broken  bridges  and  over  imperial  glories  ;  where  the  huts  are 
squatted  by  the  Niger,  under  the  palm-trees  ;  where  the  North- 
ern Babel  lies,  with  its  warehouses,  and  its  bridges,  its  graceful 
factory-chimneys,  and  its  clumsy  fanes  —  hidden  in  fog  and 
smoke  by  the  dirtiest  river  in  the  world — in  all  the  cities  of 
mankind  there  is  One  Home  whither  men  of  one  family  may 
resort.  Over  the  entire  world  spreads  a  vast  brotherhood, 
suffering,  silent,  scattered,  sympathizing,  waitmg — an  immense 
Free-Masonry.  Once  this  world-spread  band  was  an  Arabian 
clan — a  little  nation  alone  and  outlying  amongst  the  mighty 
monarchies  of  ancient  time,  the  Megatheria  of  history.  The 
sails  of  their  rare  ships  might  be  seen  in  the  Egyptian  waters  ; 
the  camels  of  their  caravans  might  thread  the  sands  of  Baalbec, 
or  wind  through  the  date-groves  of  Damascus  ;  their  flag  was 
raised,  not  ingloriously,  in  many  wars,  against  mighty  odds  ; 
but  'twas  a  small  people,  and  on  one  dark  night  the  Lion  of 
Judah  went  down  before  Vespasian's  Eagles,  and  in  flame,  and 
death,  and  struggle,  Jerusalem  agonized  and  died.  *  *  *   Yes, 

(19) 


20  NO  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HA  NDS. 

the  Jewish  city  is  lost  to  Jewish  men  ;  but  have  they  not  taken 
the  world  in  exchange  ?  " 

Mused  thus  Godfrey  de  Bouillon,  Marquis  of  Codlingsby,  as 
he  debouched  from  Wych  Street  into  the  Strand.  He  had 
been  to  take  a  box  for  Armida  at  Madame  Vestris's  theatre. 
That  little  Armida  was  folk  of  Madame  Vestris's  theatre  ;  and 
her  little  brougham,  and  her  little  self,  and  her  enormous  eyes, 
and  her  prodigious  opera-glass,  and  her  miraculous  bouquet, 
which  cost  Lord  Codlingsby  twenty  guineas  every  evening  at 
Nathan's  in  Covent  Garden  (the  children  of  the  gardeners  of 
Sharon  have  still  no  rival  for  flowers),  might  be  seen,  three 
nights  in  the  week  at  least,  in  the  narrow,  charming,  comfort- 
able little  theatre.  Godfrey  had  the  box.  He  was  strolling, 
listlessly,  eastward  ;  and  the  above  thoughts  passed  through 
the  young  noble's  mind  as  he  came  in  sight  of  Holywell  Street. 

The  occupants  of  the  London  Ghetto  sat  at  their  porches 
basking  in  the  evening  sunshine.  Children  were  playing  on 
the  steps.  Fathers  were  smoking  at  the  lintel.  Smiling  faces 
looked  out  from  the  various  and  darkling  draperies  with  which 
the  warehouses  were  hung.  Ringlets  glossy,  and  curly,  and 
jetty — eyes  black  as  night — midsummer  night — when  it  lightens  ; 
haughty  noses  bending  like  beaks  of  eagles — eager  quivering 
nostrils  —  lips  curved  like  the  bow  of  Love  —  every  man  or 
maiden,  every  babe  or  matron  in  that  English  Jewry  bore  in  his 
countenance  one  or  more  of  these  characteristics  of  his  peerless 
Arab  race. 

"  How  beautiful  they  are  !  "  mused  Codlingsby,  as  he  sur- 
veyed these  placid  groups  calmly  taking  their  pleasure  in  the 
sunset. 

"  D'you  vant  to  look  at  a  nishe  coat  ?  "  a  voice  said,  which 
made  him  start ;  and  then  some  one  behind  him  began  handling 
a  masterpiece  of  Stultz's  with  a  familiarity  which  would  have 
made  the  baron  tremble. 

"  Rafael  Mendoza  !  "  exclaimed  Godfrey. 

"The  same.  Lord  Codlingsby,"  the  individual  so  apos- 
trophized replied.  "  I  told  you  we  should  meet  again  where 
you  would  little  expect  me.  Will  it  please  you  to  enter  "i  this 
is  Friday,  and  we  close  at  sunset.  It  rejoices  my  heart  to 
welcome  you  home."  So  saying  Rafael  laid  his  hand  on  his 
breast,  and  bowed,  an  oriental  reverence.  AH  traces  of  the 
accent  with  which  he  first  addressed  Lord  Codlingsby  had 
vanished  :  it  was  disguise  ;  half  the  Hebrew's  life  is  a  disguise. 
He  shields  himself  in  craft,  since  the  Norman  boors  persecuted 
him. 


mttA 


"THIS  YOUR   HOME,    RAFAEL?' 


CODLINGSBY.  21 

They  passed  under  an  awning  of  old  clothes,  tawdry  fripperies, 
greasy  spangles,  and  battered  masks,  into  a  shop  as  black  and 
hideous  as  the  entrance  was  foul.  "  This  your  home,  Rafael  ?  " 
said  Lord  Codlingsby. 

"■  Why  not  ?  "  Rafael  answered.  "  I  am  tired  of  Schloss 
Schinkenstein  :  the  Rhine  bores  me  after  a  while.  It  is  too 
hot  for  Florence  ;  besides  they  have  not  completed  the  picture- 
gallery,  and  my  place  smells  of  putty.  You  wouldn't  have  a 
man,  mon  cher^  bury  himself  in  his  chjlteau  in  Normandy,  out  of 
the  hunting  season  ?  The  Rugantino  Palace  stupefies  me. 
Those  Titians  are  so  gloomy,  I  shall  have  my  Hobbimas 
and  Tenierses,  I  think,  from  my  house  at  the  Hague  hung  over 
them." 

"  How  many  castles,  palaces,  houses,  warehouses,  shops, 
have  you,  Rafael  1  "  Lord  Codlingsby  asked,  laughing. 

"This  is  one,"  Rafael  answered.     "Come  in." 


IL 

The  noise  in  the  old  town  was  terrific ;  Great  Tom  was 
booming  sullenly  over  the  uproar ;  the  bell  of  Saint  Mary's  was 
clanging  with  alarm ;  St.  Giles's  tocsin  chimed  furiously ; 
howls,  curses,  flights  of  brickbats,  stones  shivering  windows, 
groans  of  wounded  men,  cries  of  frightened  females,  cheers  of 
either  contending  party  as  it  charged  the  enemy  from  Carfax 
to  Trumpington  Street,  proclaimed  that  the  battle  was  at  its 
height. 

In  Berlin  they  would  have  said  it  was  a  revolution,  and  the 
cuirassiers  would  have  been  charging,  sabre  in  hand,  amidst 
that  infuriate  mob.  In  France  they  would  have  brought  down 
artillery,  and  played  on  it  with  twenty-four  pounders.  In 
Cambridge  nobody  heeded  the  disturbance — it  was  a  Town  and 
Gown  row. 

The  row  rose  at  a  boat-race.  The  Town  boat  (manned  by 
eight  stout  Bargees,  with  the  redoubted  Rullock  for  stroke) 
had  bumped  the  Brazenose  light  oar,  usually  at  the  head  of  the 
river.  High  words  arose  regarding  the  dispute.  After  return- 
ing from  Granchester,  when  the  boats  pulled  back  to  Christ- 
church  meadows,  the  disturbance  between  the  Townsmen  and 
the  University  youths — their  invariable  opponents — grew  louder 
and  more  violent,  until  it  broke  out  in  open  battle.  Sparring 
and  skirmishing  took  place  along  the  pleasant  fields  that  lead 


22  ^0  VELS  B  r  EMINENT  HANDS. 

from  the  University  gate  down  to  the  broad  and  shining  waters 
of  the  Cam,  and  under  the  walls  of  Balliol  and  Sidney  Sussex. 
The  Duke  of  Bellamont  (then  a  dashing  young  sizar  at  Exeter) 
had  a  couple  of  rounds  with  Billy  Butt,  the  bow-oar  of  the 
Bargee  boat.  Vavasour  of  Brazenose  was  engaged  with  a 
powerful  butcher,  a  well-known  champion  of  the  Town  party, 
when,  the  great  University  bells  ringing  to  dinner,  truce  was 
called  between  the  combatants,  and  they  retired  to  their  several 
colleges  for  refection. 

During  the  boat-race,  a  gentleman  pulling  in  a  canoe,  and 
smoking  a  narghilly,  had  attracted  no  ordinary  attention.  He 
rowed  about  a  hundred  yards  ahead  of  the  boats  in  the  race, 
so  that  he  could  have  a  good  view  of  that  curious  pastime.  If 
the  eight-oars  neared  him,  with  a  few  rapid  strokes  of  his  flash- 
ing paddles  his  boat  shot  a  furlong  ahead  ;  then  he  would  wait, 
surveying  the  race,  and  sending  up  volumes  of  odor  from  his 
cool  narghilly. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  crowds  who  panted  along  the 
shore,  encouraging,  according  to  Cambridge  wont,  the  efforts 
of  the  oarsmen  in  the  race.  Town  and  Gown  alike  asked  who 
it  was,  who,  with  an  ease  so  provoking,  in  a  barque  so  singular, 
with  a  form  seemingly  so  slight,  but  a  skill  so  prodigious,  beat 
their  best  men.  No  answer  could  be  given  to  the  query,  save 
that  a  gentleman  in  a  dark  travelling-chariot,  preceded  by  six 
fourgons  and  a  courier,  had  arrived  the  day  before  at  the 
"  Hoop  Inn,"  opposite  Brazenose,  and  that  the  stranger  of  the 
canoe  seemed  to  be  the  individual  in  question. 

No  wonder  the  boat,  that  all  admired  so,  could  compete 
with  any  that  ever  was  wrought  by  Cambridge  artificer  or 
Putney  workman.  That  boat  —  slim,  shining,  and  shooting 
through  the  water  like  a  pike  after  a  small  fish — was  a  caique 
from  Tophana ;  it  had  distanced  the  Sultan's  oarsmen  and  the 
best  crews  of  the  Captain  Pasha  in  the  Bosphorus  ;  it  was  the 
workmanship  of  Togrul-Beg,  Caikjee  Bashee  of  his  Highness. 
The  Bashee  had  refused  fifty  thousand  tomauns  from  Count 
Boutenieff,  the  Russian  Ambassador,  for  that  little  marvel. 
When  his  head  was  taken  off,  the  Father  of  Believers  presented 
the  boat  to  Rafael  Mendoza. 

It  was  Rafael  Mendoza  that  saved  the  Turkish  monarchy 
after  the  battle  of  Nezeeb.  By  sending  three  millions  of 
piastres  to  the  Seraskier  ;  by  bribing  Colonel  de  St.  Cornichon, 
the  French  envoy  in  the  camp  of  the  victorious  Ibrahim,  the 
march  of  the  Egyptian  army  was  stopped — the  menaced  empire 
of  the  Ottomans  was  saved  from  ruin;  the  Marchioness  of 


CODLINGSBY. 


n 


Stokepogis,  our  ambassador's  lady,  appeared  in  a  suit  of  dia- 
monds  which  outblazed  even  the  Romanoff  jewels,  and  Rafael 
Mendoza  obtained  the  little  caique.  He  never  travelled  with- 
out it.  It  was  scarcely  heavier  than  an  arm-chair.  Baroni,  the 
courier,  had  carried  it  down  to  the  Cam  that  morning,  and 
Rafael  had  seen  the  singular  sport  which  we  have  mentioned. 

The  dinner  over,  the  young  men  rushed  from  their  colleges, 
flushed,  full-fed,  and  eager  for  battle.  If  the  Gown  was  angry, 
the  Town,  too,  was  on  the  alert.  From  Iffly  and  Barnwell, 
from  factory  and  mill,  from  wharf  and  warehouse,  the  Town 
poured  out  to  meet  the  enemy,  and  their  battle  was  soon  gen- 
eral. From  the  Addenbrook's  hospital  to  the  Blenheim  turn- 
pike, all  Cambridge  was  in  an  uproar  —  the  college  gates 
closed — the  shops  barricaded — the  shop-boys  away  in  support 
of  their  brother  townsmen — the  battle  raged,  and  the  Gown 
had  the  worst  of  the  fight. 

A  luncheon  of  many  courses  had  been  provided  for  Rafael 
Mendoza  at  his  inn  ;  but  he  smiled  at  the  clumsy  efforts  of  the 
university  cooks  to  entertain  him,  and  a  couple  of  dates  and  a 
glass  of  water  formed  his  meal.  In  vain  the  discomfited  land- 
lord pressed  him  to  partake  of  the  slighted  banquet.  "  A 
breakfast !  psha  !  "  said  he.  "  My  good  man,  I  have  nineteen 
cooks,  at  salaries  rising  from  four  hundred  a  year.  I  can  have 
a  dinner  at  any  hour ;  but  a  Town  and  Gown  row  "  (a  brickbat 
here  flying  through  the  window  crashed  the  caraffe  of  water  in 
Mendoza's  hand) — "  a  Town  and  Gown  row  is  a  novelty  to  me. 
The  Town  has  the  best  of  it,  clearly,  though  :  the  men  out- 
number the  lads.  Ha,  a  good  blow  !  How  that  tall  townsman 
went  down  before  yonder  slim  young  fellow  in  the  scarlet 
trencher  cap." 

"  That  is  the  Lord  Codlingsby,"  the  landlord  said. 

"  A  light  weight,  but  a  pretty  fighter,"  Mendoza  remarked. 
"  Well  hit  with  your  left,  Lord  Codlingsby  ;  well  parried.  Lord 
Codlingsby  ;  claret  drawn,  by  Jupiter !  " 

"  Ours  is  werry  fine,"  the  landlord  said.  "Will  your  High- 
ness have  Chateau  Margaux  or  Lafitte  ?  " 

"  He  never  can  be  going  to  match  himself  against  that 
bargeman  !  "  Rafael  exclaimed,  as  an  enormous  boatman — no 
other  than  Rullock — indeed,  the  most  famous  bruiser  of  Cam- 
bridge, and  before  whose  fists  the  Gownsmen  went  down  like 
ninepins — fought  his  way  up  to  the  spot  where,  with  admirable 
spirit  and  resolution.  Lord  Codlingsby  and  one  or  two  of  his 
friends  were  making  head  against  a  number  of  the  Town. 

The  young  noble  faced  the  huge  champion  with  the  gal* 


24  ■  ^O  VELS  B  V  EMINENT  HANDS. 

lantry  of  his  race,  but  was  no  match  for  the  enemy's  strength 
and  weight  and  sinew,  and  went  down  at  every  round.  The 
brutal  fellow  had  no  mercy  on  the  lad.  His  savage  treatment 
chafed  Mendoza  as  he  viewed  the  unequal  combat  from  the 
inn-window.  "  Hold  your  hand  !  "  he  cried  to  this  Goliath  ; 
"  don't  you  see  he's  but  a  boy  ? " 

"  Down  he  goes  again  ! "  the  bargeman  cried,  not  heeding 
the  interruption.  "  Down  he  goes  again  :  I  likes  wapping  a 
lord  !  " 

"  Coward  !  "  shouted  Mendoza  ;  and  to  fling  open  the  win- 
dow amidst  a  shower  of  brickbats,  to  vault  over  the  balcony,  to 
slide  down  one  of  the  pillars  to  the  ground,  was  an  instant's 
work. 

At  the  next  he  stood  before  the  enormous  bargeman. 
****** 

After  the  coroner's  inquest,  Mendoza  gave  ten  thousand 
pounds  to  each  of  the  bargeman's  ten  children,  and  it  was  thus 
his  first  acquaintance  was  formed  with  Lord  Codlingsby. 

But  we  are  lingering  on  the  threshold  of  the  house  in 
Holywell  Street.     Let  us  go  in. 


IIL 

Godfrey  and  Rafael  passed  from  the  street  into  the  outer 
shop  of  the  old  mansion  in  Holywell  Street.  It  was  a  mas- 
querade warehouse  to  all  appearance.  A  dark-eyed  damsel  of 
the  nation  was  standing  at  the  dark  and  grimy  counter,  strewed 
with  old  feathers,  old  yellow  boots,  old  stage  mantles,  painted 
masks,  blind  and  yet  gazing  at  you  with  a  look  of  sad  death- 
like intelligence  from  the  vacancy  behind  their  sockets. 

A  medical  student  was  trying  one  of  the  doublets  of  orange- 
tawney  and  silver,  slashed  with  dirty  light-blue.  He  was 
going  to  a  masquerade  that  night.  He  thought  Polly  Pattens 
would  admire  him  in  tlie  dress — Polly  Pattens,  the  fairest  of 
maids-of-all-work — the  Borough  Venus,  adored  by  half  the  youth 
of  Guy's. 

"You  look  like  a  prince  in  it,  Mr.  Lint,"  pretty  Rachel 
said,  coaxing  him  with  her  beady  black  eyes. 

"  It  is  the  cheese,"  replied  Mr.  Lint ;  "  it  ain't  the  dress  that 
don't  suit,  my  rose  of  Sharon  ;  it's  the  figure.  Hullo,  Rafael, 
is  tliat  you,  my  lad  of  sealing-wax  ?     Come  and  intercede  for 


CODLINGSBY.  2j 

me  with  this  wild  gazelle  ;  she  says  I  can't  have  it  under  fif- 
teen bob  for  the  night.  And  it's  too  much  :  cuss  me  if  it's  not 
too  much,  unless  you'll  take  my  little  bill  at  two  months,  Ra- 
fael." 

"There's  a  sweet' pretty  brigand's  dress  you  may  have  for 
half  de  monish,"  Rafael  replied;  "there's  a  splendid  clown  for 
eight  bob ;  but  for  dat  Spanish  dress,  selp  ma  Moshesh,  Mis- 
traer  Lint,  ve'd  ask  a  guinea  of  any  but  you.  Here's  a  gentle- 
mansh  just  come  to  look  at  it.  Look  'ear,  Mr.  Brownsh,  did 
you  ever  shee  a  nisher  ting  dan  dat  ?  "  So  saying,  Rafael  turned 
to  Lord  Codlingsby  with  the  utmost  gravity,  and  displayed  to 
him  the  garment  about  which  the  young  medicus  was  haggling. 

"  Cheap  at  the  money,"  Codlingsby  replied  ;  "  if  you  won't 
make  up  your  mind,  sir,  I  should  like  to  engage  it  myself." 
But  the  thought  that  another  should  appear  before  Polly  Pat- 
tens in  that  costume  was  too  much  for  Mr.  Lint ;  he  agreed  to 
pay  the  fifteen  shillings  for  the  garment.  And  Rafael,  pocket- 
ing the  money  with  perfect  simplicity,  said,  "  Dis  vay,  Mr. 
Brownsh ;  dere's  someting  vill  shoot  you  in  the  next  shop." 

Lord  Codlingsby  followed  him,  wondering. 

"  You  are  surprised  at  our  system,"  said  Rafael,  marking 
the  evident  bewilderment  of  his  friend.  "  Confess  you  call  it 
meanness — my  huckstering  with  yonder  young  fool.  I  would 
call  it  simplicity.  Why  throw  away  a  shilling  without  need  ?  Our 
race  never  did.  A  shilling  is  four  men's  bread  :  shall  I  disdain  to 
defile  my  fingers  by  holding  them  out  relief  in  their  neces- 
sity ?  It  is  you  who  are  mean — you  Normans — not  we  of  the 
ancient  race.  You  have  your  vulgar  measurement  for  great 
things  and  small.  You  call  a  thousand  pounds  respectable, 
and  a  shekel  despicable.  Psha,  my  Codlingsby !  One  is  as 
the  other.  I  trade  in  pennies  and  in  millions.  I  am  above  or 
below  neither." 

They  were  passing  through  a  second  shop,  smelling  strongly 
of  cedar,  and,  in  fact,  piled  up  with  bales  of  those  pencils  which 
the  young  Hebrews  are  in  the  habit  of  vending  through  the 
streets.  "  I  have  sold  bundles  and  bundles  of  these,"  said 
Rafael.  "  My  little  brother  is  now  out  with  oranges  in  Picca- 
dilly. I  am  bringing  him  up  to  be  head  of  our  house  at  Am- 
sterdam. We  all  do  it.  I  had  myself  to  see  Rothschild  in 
Eaton  Place  this  morning,  about  the  Irish  loan,  of  which  I  have 
taken  three  millions  :  and  as  I  wanted  to  walk,  I  carried  the 
bag. 

"  You  should  have  seen  the  astonishment  of  Lauda  Latymer, 
the  Archbishop  of  Croydon's  daughter,  as  she  was  passing  St. 


26  ^O  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 

Bennet's,  Knightsbridge,  and  as  she  fancied  she  recognized  in 
the  man  who  was  crying  old  clothes  the  gentleman  with  whom 
she  had  talked  at  the  Count  de  St.  Aulair's  the  night  before." 
Something  like  a  blush  flushed  over  the  pale  features  of  Men- 
doza  as  he  mentioned  the  Lady  Lauda's  name.  "  Come  on," 
said  he.  They  passed  through  various  warehouses — the  orange 
room,  the  sealing-wax  room,  the  six-bladed  knife  department, 
and  finally  came  to  an  old  baize  door.  Rafael  opened  the 
baize  door  by  some  secret  contrivance,  and  they  were  in  a  black 
passage,  with  a  curtain  at  the  end. 

He  clapped  his  hands;  the  curtain  at  the  end  of  the  pas- 
sage drew  back,  and  a  flood  of  golden  light  streamed  on  the 
Hebrew  and  his  visitor. 


Chapter  XXIV. 

Thev  entered  a  moderate-sized  apartment — indeed,  Holy- 
well Street  is  not  above  a  hundred  yards  long,  and  this  chamber 
was  not  more  than  half  that  length — it  was  fitted  up  with  the 
simple  taste  of  its   owner. 

The  carpet  was  of  white  velvet — (laid  over  several  webs  of 
Aubusson,  Ispahan,  and  Axminster,  so  that  your  foot  gave  no 
more  sound  as  it  trod  upon  the  yielding  plain  than  the  shadow 
did  which  followed  you) — of  white  velvet,  painted  with  flowers, 
arabesques,  and  classic  figures  by  Sir  William  Ross,  J.  M.  W. 
Turner,  R.  A.,  Mrs.  Mee,  and  Paul  Delaroche.  The  edges 
were  wrought  with  seed-pearls,  and  fringed  with  Valenciennes 
lace  and  bullion.  The  walls  were  hung  with  cloth  of  silver, 
embroidered  with  gold  figures,  over  which  were  worked  pome- 
granates, polyanthuses,  and  passion-flowers,  in  ruby,  amethyst, 
and  smaragd.  The  drops  of  dew  which  the  artificer  had 
sprinkled  on  the  flowers  were  diamonds.  The  hangings  were 
overhung  by  pictures  yet  more  costly.  Giorgione  the  gorgeous, 
Titian  the  golden,  Rubens  the  ruddy  and  pulpy  (the'  Pan  of 
Painting),  some  of  Murillo's  beatified  shepherdesses,  who  smile 
on  you  out  of  darkness  like  a  star,  a  few  score  first-class  Leon- 
ardoes,  and  fifty  of  the  masterpieces  of  the  patron  of  Julius 
and  Leo,  the  Imperial  genius  of  L^rbino,  covered  the  walls  of 
the  little  chamber.  Divans  of  carved  amber  covered  with 
ermine  went  round  the  room,  and  in  the  midst  was  a  fountain, 
pattering  and  babbling  with  jets  of  double  distilled  otto  of 
roses. 

"  Pipes,  Goliath !  "  Rafael  said  gayly  to  a  little  negro  with 


CODUNGSBY.  2- 

ft  silver  collar  (he  spoke  to  him  in  his  native  tongue  of  Don- 
gola)  ;  "  and  welcome  to  our  snuggery,  my  Codlingsby.  We 
are  quieter  here  than  in  the  front  of  the  house,  and  I  vi^anted 
to  show  you  a  picture.  I'm  proud  of  my  pictures.  That 
Leonardo  came  from  Genoa,  and  was  a  gift  to  our  father  from 
my  cousin,  Marshal  Manasseh  :  that  Murillo  was  pawned  to 
my  uncle  by  Marie  Antoinette  before  the  flight  to  Varennes — 
the  poor  lady  could  not  redeem  the  pledge,  you  know,  and  the 
picture  remains  with  us.  As  for  the  Rafael,  I  suppose  you  are 
aware  that  he  was  one  of  our  people.  But  what  are  you  gazing 
at  ?  Oh  !  my  sister — I  forgot.  Miriam  !  this  is  the  Lord  Cod- 
lingsby." 

She  had  been  seated  at  an  ivory  pianoforte  on  a  mother-of- 
pearl  music-stool,  trying  a  sonata  of  Herz.  She  rose  when  thus 
apostrophized.  Miriam  de  Mendoza  rose  and  greeted  the 
stranger. 

The  Talmud  relates  that  Adam  had  two  wives — Zillah  the 
dark  beauty ;  Eva  the  fair  one.  The  ringlets  of  Zillah  were 
black  ;  those  of  Eva  were  golden.  The  eyes  of  Zillah  were 
night ;  those  of  Eva  were  morning.  Codlingsby  was  fair — of 
the  fair  Saxon  race  of  Hengist  and  Horsa — they  called  him 
Miss  Codlingsby  at  school ;  but  how  much  fairer  was  Miriam 
the  Hebrew ! 

Her  hair  had  that  deep  glowing  tinge  in  it  which  has  been 
the  delight  of  all  painters,  and  which,  therefore,  the  vulgar 
sneer  at.  It  was  of  burning  auburn.  Meandering  over  her 
fairest  shoulders  in  twenty  thousand  minute  ringlets,  it  hung  to 
her_ waist  and  below  it.  A  light-blue  velvet  fillet  clasped  with 
a  diamond  aigrette  (valued  at  two  hundred  thousand  tomauns, 
and  bought  from  Lieutenant  Vicovich,  who  had  received  it 
from  Dost  Mahomed),  with  a  simple  bird  of  paradise,  formed 
her  head-gear.  A  sea-green  cymar,  with  short  sleeves,  displayed 
her  exquisitely  moulded  arms  to  perfection,  and  was  fastened 
by  a  girdle  of  emeralds  over  a  yellow  satin  frock.  Pink  gauze 
trousers  spangled  with  silver,  and  slippers  of  the  same  color  as 
the  band  which  clasped  her  ringlets  (but  so  covered  with  pearls 
that  the  original  hue  of  the  charming  little  papoosh  disappeared 
entirely)  completed  her  costume.  She  had  three  necklaces  on, 
each  of  which  would  have  dowered  a  Princess — her  fingers 
glistened  with  rings  to  their  rosy  tips,  and  priceless  bracelets, 
bangles,  and  armlets  wound  round  an  arm  that  was  whiter  than 
the  ivory  grand  piano  on  which  it  leaned. 

As  Miriam  de  Mendoza  greeted  the  stranger,  turning  upon 
him  the  solemn  welcome  of    her  eyes,  Codlingsby  swooned 


28  NO  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 

almost  in  the  brightness  of  her  beauty.  It  was  well  she  spoke ; 
the  sweet  kind  voice  restored  him  to  consciousness.  Muttering 
a  few  words  of  incoherent  recognition,  he  sank  upon  a  sandal- 
wood settee,  as  Goliath,  the  little  slave,  brought  aromatic  coffee 
in  cups  of  opal,  and  alabaster  spittoons,  and  pipes  of  the  fra- 
grant Gibelly. 

"  My  lord's  pipe  is  out,"  said  Miriam  with  a  smile,  remark- 
ing the  bewilderment  of  her  guest — who  in  truth  forgot  to 
smoke — and  taking  up  a  thousand-pound  note  from  a  bundle 
on  the  piano,  she  liglited  it  at  the  taper  and  proceeded  to  re- 
illumine  the  extincruished  chibouk  of  Lord  Codlingsby. 


IV. 

When  Miriam,  returning  to  the  mother-of-pearl  music-stool, 
at  a  signal  from  her  brother,  touched  the  silver  and  enamelled 
keys  of  the  ivory  piano,  and  began  to  sing,  Lord  Codlingsby 
felt  as  if  he  were  listening  at  the  gates  of  Paradise,  or  were 
hearing  Jenny  Lind. 

"  Lind  is  the  name  of  the  Hebrew  race  ;  so  is  Mendelssohn, 
the  son  of  Almonds  ;  so  is  Rosenthal,  the  Valley  of  the  Roses: 
so  is  Lowe  or  Lewis  or  Lyons  or  Lion,  The  beautiful  and  the 
brave  alike  give  cognizances  to  the  ancient  people  :  you  Saxons 
call  yourselves  Brown,  or  Rodgers,"  Rafael  observed  to  his 
friend ;  and,  drawing  the  instrument  from  his  pocket,  he  ac- 
companied his  sister,  in  the  most  ravishing  manner,  on  a  little 
gold  and  jewelled  harp,  of  the  kind  peculiar  to  his  nation. 

All  the  airs  which  the  Hebrew  maid  selected  were  written 
by  composers  of  her  race  ;  it  was  either  a  hymn  by  Rossini,  a 
polacca  by  Braham,  a  delicious  romance  by  Sloman,  or  a  melody 
by  Weber,  that,  thrilling  on  the  strings  of  the  instrument, 
wakened  a  harmony  on  the  fibres  of  the  heart ;  but  she  sang 
no  other  than  the  songs  of  her  nation. 

"  Beautiful  one  !  sing  ever,  sing  always,"  Codlingsby  thought. 
"  I  could  sit  at  thy  feet  as  under  a  green  palm-tree,  and  fancy 
that  Paradise-birds  were  singing  in  the  boughs." 

Rafael  read  his  thoughts.  "  We  have  Saxon  blood  too  in 
our  veins,"  lie  said.  "  You  smile  !  but  it  is  even  so.  An  an- 
cestress of  ours  made  a  mesalliance  in  the  reign  of  your  King 
John.  Her  name  was  Rebecca,  daughter  of  Isaac  of  York, 
and  she  married  in  Spain,  whither  she  had  fled  to  the  Court  of 
King  Boabdil,  Sir  Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe,  then  a  widower  by  the 


CODLINGSBY.  29 

demise  of  his  first  lady,  Rowena.  The  match  was  deemed  a 
cruel  insult  amongst  our  people  ;  but  Wilfred  conformed,  and 
was  a  Rabbi  of  some  note  at  the  synagogue  of  Cordova.  We 
are  descended  from  him  lineally.  It  is  the  only  blot  upon  the 
escutcheon  of  the  Mendozas." 

As  they  sat  talking  together,  the  music  finished,  and  Miriam 
having  retired  (though  her  song  and  her  beauty  were  still  present 
to  the  soul  of  the  stranger)  at  a  signal  from  Mendoza,  various 
messengers  from  the  outer  apartments  came  in  to  transact  busi- 
ness with  him. 

First  it  was  Mr.  Aminadab,  vv'ho  kissed  his  foot,  and  brought 
papers  to  sign.  "  How  is  the  house  in  Grosvenor  Square, 
Aminadab  ;  and  is  your  son  tired  of  his  yacht  yet  ?  "  Men- 
doza asked.  "  That  is  my  twenty-fourth  cashier,"  said  Rafael 
to  Codlingsby,  when  the  obsequious  clerk  went  away.  "  He 
is  fond  of  display,  and  all  my  people  may  have  what  money 
they  like." 

Entered  presently  the  Lord  Bareacres,  on  the  afifair  of  his 
mortgage.  The  Lord  Bareacres,  strutting  into  the  apartment 
with  a  haughty  air,  shrank  back,  nevertheless,  with  surprise  on 
beholding  the  magnificence  around  him.  "  Little  Mordecai," 
said  Rafael  to  a  little  orange-boy,  who  came  in  at  the  heels  of 
the  noble,  "  take  this  gentleman  out  and  let  him  have  ten  thou- 
sand pounds.  I  can't  do  more  for  you,  my  lord,  than  this — 
Lm  busy.  Good-by ! "  And  Rafael  waved  his  hand  to  the 
peer,  and  fell  to  smoking  his  narghilly. 

A  man  with  a  square  face,  cat-like  eyes,  and  a  yellow 
mustache,  came  next.  He  had  an  hour-glass  of  a  waist,  and 
walked  uneasily  upon  his  high-heeled  boots.  "  Tell  your 
master  that  he  shall  have  two  millions  more,  but  not  another 
shilling,"  Rafael  said.  ''  That  story  about  the  five-and-twenty 
millions  of  ready  money  at  Cronstadt  is  all  bosh.  They  won't 
believe  it  in  Europe.  You  understand  me  Count  Grogom- 
offski  ?  " 

"  But  his  Imperial  Majesty  said  four  millions,  and  I  shall 
get  the  knout  unless " 

"  Go  and  speak  to  Mr.  Shadrach,  in  room  Z  94,  the  fourth 
court,"  said  Mendoza,  good-naturedly.  "  Leave  me  at  peace, 
Count  ;  don't  you  see  it  is  Friday,  and  almost  sunset  ?  "  The 
Calmuck  envoy  retired  cringing,  and  left  an  odor  of  musk  and 
candle-grease  behind  him. 

An  orange-man  ;  an  emissary  from  Lola  Montes  ;  a  dealer 
in  piping  bulfinches ;  and  a  Cardinal  in  disguise,  with  a  pro- 
posal for  a  new  loan  for  the  Pope,  were  heard  by  turns  ;  and 


30 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


each,  after  a  rapid  colloquy  in  his  own  language,  was  dismissed 
by  Rafael. 

"  The  queen  must  come  back  from  Aranjuez,  or  that  king 
must  be  disposed  of,"  Rafael  exclaimed,  as  a  yellow-faced  am- 
bassador from  Spain,  General  the  Duke  of  Olla  Podrida,  left 
him.  "  Which  shall  it  be,  my  Codlingsby  ?  "  Codlingsby  was 
about  laughingly  to  answer — for  indeed  he  was  amazed  to  find 
all  the  affairs  of  the  world  represented  here,  and  Holywell 
Street  the  centre  of  Europe — when  three  knocks  of  a  peculiar 
nature  were  heard,  and  Mendoza  starting  up,  said,  "  Ha  !  there 
are  only  four  men  in  the  world  who  know  that  signal."  At 
once,  and  with  a  reverence  quite  distinct  from  his  former  nori' 
chalant  manner,  he  advanced  towards  the  new-comer. 

He  was  an  old  man — an  old  man  evidently,  too,  of  the 
Hebrew  race — the  light  of  his  eyes  was  unfathomable — about 
his  mouth  there  played  an  inscrutable  smile.  He  had  a  cotton 
umbrella,  and  old  trousers,  and  old  boots,  and  an  old  wig,  curl- 
ing at  the  top  like  a  rotten  old  pear. 

He  sat  down,  as  if  tired,  in  the  first  seat  at  hand,  as  Rafael 
made  him  the  lowest  reverence. 

"  1  am  tired,"  says  he  ;  "I  have  come  in  fifteen  hours.  I 
am  ill  at  Neuilly,"  he  added  with  a  grin.  "Get  me  some  eaii 
sucree,  and  tell  me  the  news.  Prince  de  Mendoza.  These  bread 
rows  ;  this  unpopularity  of  Guizot ;  this  odious  Spanish  con- 
spiracy against  my  darling  Montpensier  and  daughter ;  this 
ferocity  of  Palmerston  against  Coletti,  makes  me  quite  ill. 
Give  me  your  opinion,  my  dear  duke.  But  ha  !  whom  have  we 
here  ? " 

The  august  individual  who  had  spoken,  had  used  the 
Hebrew  language  to  address  Mendoza,  and  the  Lord  Cod- 
lingsby might  easily  have  pleaded  ignorance  of  that  tongue. 
But  he  had  been  at  Cambridge,  where  all  the  youth  acquire  it 
perfectly. 

"  6'/;'6',"  said  he,  "  I  will  not  disguise  from  you  that  I  know 
the  ancient  tongue  in  which  you  speak.  There  are  probably 
secrets  between  Mendoza  and  your  Maj " 

"  Hushi !  "  said  Rafael,  leading  him  from  the  room.  "  Au 
revoir,  dear  Codlingsby.  His  Majesty  is  one  of  //i","  he  whis- 
pered at  the  door  ;  "  so  is  the  Pope  of  Rome  ;  so  is  *  *  *  " — 
a  whisper  concealed  the  rest. 

"  Gracious  powers  !  is  it  so  ?  "  said  Codlingsby,  musing.  He 
entered  into  Holywell  Street.     The  sun  was  sinking. 

"  It  is  time,"  said  he,  "  to  go  and  fetch  Armida  to  the 
Olympic." 


PHIL    FOGARTY. 

A  TALE  OF  THE  FIGHTING  ONETY-ONETH. 
By  Harry  Rollicker. 


I. 

The  gabion  was  ours.  After  two  hours'  fighting  we  were  in 
possession  of  the  first  embrasure,  and  made  ourselves  as  com- 
fortable as  circumstances  would  admit.  Jack  Delamere,  Tom 
Delancy,  Jerry  Blake,  the  Doctor,  and  myself,  sat  down  under 
a  pontoon,  and  our  servants  laid  out  a  hasty  supper  on  a  tum- 
brel. Though  Cambaceres  had  escaped  me  so  provokingly 
after  I  cut  him  down,  his  spoils  were  mine  ;  a  cold  fowl  and  a 
Bologna  sausage  were  found  in  the  Marshal's  holsters  ;  and  in 
the  haversack  of  a  French  private  who  lay  a  corpse  on  the 
glacis,  we  found  a  loaf  of  bread,  his  three  days'  ration.  Instead 
of  salt,  we  had  gunpowder  ;  and  you  may  be  sure,  wherever  the 
Doctor  was,  a  flask  of  good  brandy  was  behind  him  in  his  in- 
strument-case. We  sat  down  and  made  a  soldier's  supper. 
The  Doctor  pulled  a  few  of  the  delicious  fruit  from  the  lemon- 
trees  growing  near  (and  round  which  the  Carbineers  and  the 
24th  Leger  had  made  a  desperate  rally),  and  punch  was  brewed 
in  Jack  Delamere's  helmet. 

"  'Faith,  it  never  had  so  much  wit  in  it  before,"  said  the 
Doctor,  as  he  ladled  out  the  drink.  We  all  roared  with  laugh- 
ing, except  the  guardsman,  who  was  as  savage  as  a  Turk  at  a 
christening. 

"  Buvez-en,"  said  old  Sawbones  to  our  French  prisoner ; 
"  9a  vous  fera  du  bien,  mon  vieux  coq ! "  and  the  Colonel, 
whose  wound  had  been  just  dressed,  eagerly  grasped  at  the 
proffered  cup,  and  drained  it  with  a  health  to  the  donors. 

3  <^'> 


32 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


How  strange  are  the  chances  of  war !  But  half  an  hour  be* 
fore  he  and  I  were  engaged  in  mortal  combat,  and  our  prisoner 
was  all  but  my  conqueror.  Grappling  with  Cambaceres,  whom 
I  knocked  from  his  horse,  and  was  about  to  despatch,  I  felt  a 
lunge  behind,  which  luckily  was  parried  by  my  sabretache  \ 
a  herculean  grasp  was  at  the  next  instant  at  my  throat — I  was 
on  the  ground  —  my  prisoner  had  escaped,  and  a  gigantic 
warrior  in  the  uniform  of  a  colonel  of  the  regiment  of  Artois 
glaring  over  me  with  pointed  sword. 

"  Rends-toi,  coquin  !  "  said  he. 

"  AUez  au  Diable  !  "  said  I :  "  a  Fogarty  never  surrenders." 

I  thought  of  my  poor  mother  and  my  sisters,  at  the  old 
house  in  Killaloo — I  felt  the  tip  of  his  blade  between  my  teeth 
— I  breathed  a  prayer,  and  shut  my  eyes — when  the  tables  were 
turned — the  butt-end  of  Lanty  Clancy's  musket  knocked  the 
sword  up  and  broke  the  arm  that  held  it. 

"  Thonamoundiaoul  nabochlish,"  said  the  French  officer, 
with  a  curse  in  the  purest  Irish.  It  was  lucky  I  stopped 
laughing  time  enough  to  bid  Lanty  hold  his  hand,  for  the  hon- 
est fellow  would  else  have  brained  my  gallant  adversary.  We 
were  the  better  friends  for  our  combat,  as  what  gallant  hearts 
are  not  ? 

The  breach  was  to  be  stormed  at  sunset,  and  like  true  sol- 
diers we  sat  down  to  make  the  most  of  our  time.  The  rogue 
of  a  Doctor  took  the  liver-wing  for  his  share — we  gave  the 
other  to  our  guest,  a  prisoner  ;  those  scoundrels  Jack  Dela- 
mere  and  Tom  Delancy  took  the  legs — and,  'faith,  poor  I  was 
put  off  with  the  Pope's  nose  and  a  bit  of  the  back. 

"  How  d'ye  like  his  Holiness's/^?j'///r^.?  "  said  Jerry  Blake. 

"  Anyhow  you'll  have  a  merry  thojight,'^  cried  the  incorrigi- 
ble Doctor,  and  all  the  party  shrieked  at  the  witticism. 

"  De  mortuis  nil  nisi  bonum,"  said  Jack,  holding  up  the 
drumstick  clean. 

"  'Faith,  there's  not  enough  of  it  to  make  us  chicken-hearted, 
anyhow,"  said  I ;  "  come,  boys,  let's  have  a  song." 

"  Here  goes,"  said  Tom  Delancy,  and  sung  the  following 
lyric,  of  his  own  composition  : — 

"Dear  Jack,  this  white  mug  that  with  Guinness  I  fill, 
And  drink  to  the  health  of  sweet  Nan  of  the  Hill, 
Was  once  Tommy  Tosspot's,  as  jovial  a  sot 
As  e'er  drew  a  spigot,  or  drain'd  a  full  pot — 
In  drinking  all  round  'twas  his  joy  to  surpass, 
And  with  all  merry  tipplers  he  swigg'd  off  his  glass. 

"  One  morning  in  summer,  while  seated  so  snug. 
In  the  porch  of  his  garden,  discussing  his  jug. 


PHIL  FOG  ARTY.  ^ 

Stem  Death,  on  a  sudden,  to  Tom  did  appear, 

And  said,  '  Honest  Thomas,  come  take  your  last  bier ; ' 

We  kneaded  his  clay  in  the  shape  of  this  can, 

From  which  let  us  drink  lo  the  health  of  my  Nan." 

"Psha!"  said  the  Doctor,  "I've  heard  that  song  beforej 
here's  a  new  one  for  you,  boys  !  "  and  Sawbones  began,  in  • 
rich  Corkagian  voice — 

"  You've  all  heard  of  Larry  0'Too5e, 
Of  the  beautiful  town  of  Drumgoole  ; 

He  had  but  one  eye, 

To  ogle  ye  by — 
Oh,  murther,  but  that  was  a  jew'l ! 

A  fool 
He  made  of  de  girls,  dis  O'Toole. 

"  'Twas  he  was  the  boy  didn't  fail. 
That  tuck  down  pataties  and  mail  \, 

He  never  would  shrink 

From  any  sthrong  dthrink. 
Was  it  whiskey  or  Drogheda  ale  1 

I'm  bail 
This  Larry  would  swallow  a  paiL 

"  Oh,  many  a  night  at  the  bowl. 
With  Larry  I've  sot  cheek  by  jowl ; 

He's  gone  to  his  rest, 

Where  there's  dthrink  of  the  best, 
And  so  let  us  give  his  old  soul 

A  howl, 
For  'twas  he  made  the  noggin  to  rowl." 

I  observed  the  French  Colonel's  eye  glistened  as  he  heard 
these  well-known  accents  of  his  country  ;  but  we  were  too  well- 
bred  to  pretend  to  remark  his  emotion. 

The  sun  was  setting  behind  the  mountains  as  our  songs 
were  finished,  and  each  began  to  look  out  with  some  anxiety 
for  the  preconcerted  signal,  the  rocket  from  Sir  Hussey  Vivian's 
quarters,  which  was  to  announce  the  recommencement  of  hos- 
tilities. It  came  just  as  the  moon  rose  in  her  silver  splendor, 
and  ere  the  rocket-stick  fell  quivering  to  the  earth  at  the  feet 
of  General  Picton  and  Sir  Lowry  Cole,  who  were  at  their  posts 
at  the  head  of  the  storming-parties,  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  guns  in  position  opened  their  fire  from  our  batteries, 
which  were  answered  by  a  tremendous  cannonade  from  the 
fort 

"  Who's  going  to  dance  ?  "  said  the  Doctor  :  "  the  ball's 
begun.  Ha !  there's  goes  poor  Jack  Delamere's  head  off ! 
The  ball  chose  a  soft  one,  anyhow.  Come  here,  Tim,  till  I 
mend  your  leg.  Your  wife  has  need  only  knit  half  as  many 
stockings  next  year,  Doolan  my  boy.  Faix  !  there  goes  a  big 
one  had  wellnigh  stopped  my  talking :  bedad  !  it  has  snuffed 
the  feather  off  my  cocked  hat !  " 

In  this  way,  with  eighty-four-pounders  roaring  over  us  like 


34 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS 


hail,  the  undaunted  little  Doctor  pursued  his  jokes  and  hi% 
duty.  That  he  had  a  feeling  heart,  all  who  served  with  him 
knew,  and  none  more  so  than  Philip  Fogarty,  the  humble  writer 
of  this  tale  of  war. 

Our  embrasure  was  luckily  bomb-proof,  and  the  detachment 
of  the  Onety-oneth  under  my  orders  suffered  comparatively 
little.  "  Be  cool,  boys,"  I  said  ;  "  it  will  be  hot  enough  work 
for  you  ere  long."  The  honest  fellows  answered  with  an  Irish 
cheer.     I  saw  that  it  affected  our  prisoner. 


"  Countryman,"  said  I,  "  I  know  you  ;  but  an  Irishman 
was  never  a  traitor." 

"  Taisez-vous ! "  said  he,  putting  his  finger  to  his  lip. 
"C'est  la  fortune  de  la  guerre  :  if  ever  you  come  to  Paris,  ask 
for  the  Marquis  d'  O'Mahony,  and  I  may  render  you  the  hospi- 
tality which  your  tyrannous  laws  prevent  me  from  exercising 
iti  the  ancestral  halls  of  my  own  race." 


PHIL  FOG  ARTY.  35 

I  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand  as  a  tear  bedimmed  his 
«ye.  It  was,  then,  the  celebrated  Colonel  of  the  Irish  Brigade, 
ereated  a  Marquis  by  Napoleon  on  the  field  of  Austerlitz  ! 

"Marquis,"  said  I,  "the  country  which  disowns  you  is 
proud  of  you  ;  but  —  ha !  here,  if  I  mistake  not,  comes  our 
signal  to  advance."  And  in  fact  Captain  Vandeleur,  riding 
up  through  the  shower  of  shot,  asked  for  the  commander  of 
the  detachment,  and  bade  me  hold  myself  in  readiness  to  move 
as  soon  as  the  flank  companies  of  the  Ninety-ninth,  and  Sixty- 
sixth  and  the  Grenadier  Brigade  of  the  German  Legion  began 
to  advance  up  the  e'chelon.  The  devoted  band  soon  arrived  \ 
Jack  Bowser  heading  the  Ninety-ninth  (when  was  he  away  and 
a  storm ing-party  to  the  fore  ?),  and  the  gallant  Potztausend, 
with  his  Hanoverian  veterans. 

The  second  rocket  flew  up. 

*'  Forward,  Onety-oneth  !  "  cried  I,  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 
"  Killaloo  boys,  follow  your  captain  !  "  and  with  a  shrill  hurray, 
that  sounded'  above  the  tremendous  fire  from  the  fort,  we 
sprung  up  the  steep ;  Bowser  with  the  brave  Ninety-ninth,  and 
the  bold  Potztausend,  keeping  well  up  with  us.  We  passed  the 
demi-lune,  we  passed  the  culverin,  bayoneting  the  artillerymen 
at  their  guns  ;  we  advanced  across  the  two  tremendous  demi- 
lunes which  flank  the  counterscarp,  and  prepared  for  the  final 
spring  upon  the  citadel.  Soult  I  could  see  quite  pale  on  the 
wall  ;  and  the  scoundrel  Cambaceres,  who  had  been  so  nearly 
my  prisoner  that  day,  trembled  as  he  cheered  his  men.  "  On 
boys,  on  !  "  I  hoarsely  exclaimed.  "  Hurroo  !  "  said  the  fight- 
ing Onety-oneth. 

But  there  was  a  movement  among  the  enemy.  An  officer, 
glittering  with  orders,  and  another  in  a  gray  coat  and  a  cocked 
hat,  came  to  the  wall,  and  I  recognized  the  Emperor  Napoleon 
and  the  famous  Joachim  Murat. 

"  We  are  hardly  pressed,  methinks,"  Napoleon  said  sternly. 
"  I  must  exercise  my  old  trade  as  an  artilleryman  ; "  and  Murat 
loaded,  and  the  Emperor  pointed  the  only  hundred-and-twenty- 
four-pounder  that  had  not  been  silenced  by  our  fire. 

"  Hurray,  Killaloo  boys  !  "  shouted  I.  The  next  moment  a 
sensation  of  numbness  and  death  seized  me,  and  I  lay  like  a 
corpse  upon  the  rampart, 


,g  NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 

II. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  a  voice,  which  I  recognized  to  be  that  of 
the  Marquis  d'  O'Mahony.  "  Heaven  be  praised,  reason  has 
returned  to  you.  For  six  weeks  those  are  the  only  sane  words 
I  have  heard  from  you," 

"  Faix,  and  'tis  thrue  for  you,  Colonel  dear,"  cried  another 
voice,  with  which  I  was  even  more  familiar  ;  'twas  that  of  my 
honest  and  gallant  Lanty  Clancy,  who  was  blubbering  at  my 
bedside  overjoyed  at  his  master's  recovery. 

"  O  mush  a,  Masther  Phil  agrah  !  but  this  will  be  the  great 
day  intirely,  when  I  send  off  the  news,  which  I  would,  barrin' 
I  can't  write,  to  the  lady  your  mother  and  your  sisters  at  Castle 
Fogarty  ;  and  'tis  his  Riv'rence  Father  Luke  will  jump  for  joy 
thin,  when  he  reads  the  letther  !  Six  weeks  ravin'  and  roarin' 
as  bould  as  a  lion,  and  as  mad  as  Mick  Malony's  pig,  that  mis- 
tuck  Mick's  wig  for  a  cabbage,  and  died  of  atin'  it !  " 

"  And  have  I  then  lost  my  senses  ?  "  I  exclaimed  feebly. 

"  Sure,  didn't  ye  call  me  your  beautiful  Donna  Anna  only 
yesterday,  and  catch  hould  of  me  whiskers  as  if  they  were  the 
Signora's  jet-black  ringlets  ?  "  Lanty  cried. 

At  this  moment,  and  blushing  deeply,  the  most  beautiful 
young  creature  I  ever  set  my  eyes  upon,  rose  from  a  chair  at 
the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  sailed  out  of  the  room. 

"Confusion,  you  blundering  rogue,"  I  cried  ;  "who  is  that 
lovely  lady  whom  you  frightened  away  by  your  impertinence  ? 
Donna  Anna  ?     Where  am  I .'' ' 

"  You  are  in  good  hands,  Philip,"  said  the  Colonel ;  "  you 
are  at  my  house  in  the  Place  Vendome,  at  Paris,  of  which  I  am 
the  military  Governor.  You  and  Lanty  were  knocked  down  by 
the  wind  of  the  cannon-ball  at  Burgos.  Do  not  be  ashamed  : 
'twas  the  Emperor  pointed  the  gun  ;  "  and  the  Colonel  took  off 
his  hat  as  he  mentioned  the  name  darling  to  France.  "  When 
our  troops  returned  from  the  sally  in  which  your  gallant  storm- 
ing-party  was  driven  back,  you  were  found  on  the  glacis,  and  I 
had  you  brought  into  the  City.  Your  reason  had  left  you,  how- 
ever, when  you  returned  to  life  ;  but,  unwilling  to  desert  the 
son  of  my  old  friend,  Philip  Fogarty,  who  saved  my  life  in  '98, 
I  brought  you  in  my  carriage  to  Paris." 

"  And  many's  the  time  you  tried  to  jump  out  of  the  windy, 
Masther  Phil,"  said  Clancy. 

"Brought  you  to  Paris,"  resumed  the  Colonel,  smiling; 
♦'  where,  by  the  soins  of  my  friends  Broussais,  Esquirol,  and 


PHIL  FOG  ARTY.  yj 

Baron  Larrey,  you  have  been  restored  to  health,  thank 
heaven !  " 

"  And  that  lovely  angel  who  quitted  the  apartment  ? "  I 
cried. 

"  That  lovely  angel  is  the  Lady  Blanche  Sarsfield,  my  ward, 
a  descendant  of  the  gallant  Lucan,  and  who  may  be,  when  she 
chooses,  Madame  la  Marechale  de  Cambaceres,  Duchess  of 
Illyria." 

"Why  did  you  deliver  the  ruffian  when  he  was  in  my 
grasp  ?  "  I  cried. 

"  Why  did  Lanty  deliver  you  when  in  mine  ? "  the  Colonel 
replied.  "  C'est  la  fortune  de  la  guerre,  mon  gar9on ;  but 
calm  yourself,  and  take  this  potion  which  Blanche  has  pre- 
pared for  you." 

I  drank  the  tisane  eagerly  when  I  heard  whose  fair  hands 
had  compounded  it,  and  its  effects  were  speedily  beneficial  to 
me,  for  I  sank  into  a  cool  and  refreshing  slumber. 

From  that  day  I  began  to  mend  rapidly,  with  all  the  elasti- 
city of  youth's  happy  time.  Blanche — the  enchanting  Blanche 
— ministered  henceforth  to  me,  for  I  would  take  no  medicine 
but  from  her  lily  hand.  And  what  were  the  effects  ?  'Faith, 
ere  a  month  was  past,  the  patient  was  over  head  and  ears  in 
love  with  the  doctor ;  and  as  for  Baron  Larrey,  and  Broussais, 
and  Esquirol,  they  were  sent  to  the  right-about.  In  a  short 
time  I  was  in  a  situation  to  do  justice  to  the  gigot  aux  navets, 
the  bceuf  aux  cornichons,  and  other  delicious  e?itremefs  of  the 
Marquis's  board,  with  an  appetite  that  astonished  some  of  the 
Frenchmen  who  frequented  it. 

"  Wait  till  he's  quite  well.  Miss,"  said  Lanty,  who  waited 
always  behind  me.  "  Faith !  when  he's  in  health,  I'd  back 
him  to  ate  a  cow,  barrin'  the  horns  and  teel."  I  sent  a  decan- 
ter at  the  rogue's  head,  by  way  of  answer  to  his  impertinence. 

Although  the  disgusting  Cambaceres  did  his  best  to  have 
my  parole  withdrawn  from  me,  and  to  cause  me  to  be  sent  to 
the  English  depot  of  prisoners  at  Verdun,  the  Marquis's  interest 
with  the  Emperor  prevailed,  and  I  was  allowed  to  remain  at 
Paris,  the  happiest  of  prisoners,  at  the  Colonel's  hotel  at  the 
Place  Vendome.  I  here  had  the  opportunity  (an  opportunity 
not  lost,  I  flatter  myself,  on  a  young  fellow  with  the  accom- 
plishments of  Philip  Fogarty,  Esq.)  of  mixing  with  the  elitd 
of  French  society,  and  meeting  with  many  of  the  great,  the 
beautiful,  and  the  brave.  Talleyrand  was  a  frequent  guest  of 
the  Marquis's.  His  bon-mots  used  to  keep  the  table  in  a  roar. 
Ney  frequently  took  his  chop  with  us;  Murat,  when  in  town. 


3^.  i^OVELS  B\  EMiMEArr  HANDS. 

constantly  dropt  in  for  a  cup  of  tea  and  friendly  round  gam<*. 
Alas  !  who  would  have  thought  those  two  gallant  heads  would 
be  so  soon  laid  low  ?  My  wife  has  a  pair  of  earrings  which 
the  latter,  who  always  wore  them,  presented  to  her — but  we 
are  advancing  matters.  Anybody  could  see,  "  avec  tc7i  dcmi- 
ceil,'"  as  the  Prince  of  Benevento  remarked,  how  affairs  went 
between  me  and  Blanche  ;  but  though  she  loathed  him  for  his 
cruelties  and  the  odiousness  of  his  person,  the  brutal  Camba- 
ceres  still  pursued  his  designs  upon  her, 

I  recollect  it  was  on  St.  Patrick's  Day.  My  lovely  friend 
had  procured,  from  the  gardens  of  the  Empress  Josephine,  at 
Malmaison  (whom  we  loved  a  thousand  times  more  than  her 
Austrian  successor,  a  sandy-haired  woman,  between  ourselves, 
with  an  odious  squint),  a  quantity  of  shamrock  wherewith  to 
garnish  the  hotel,  and  all  the  Irish  in  Paris  were  invited  to  the 
national  festival. 

I  and  Prince  Talleyrand  danced  a  double  hornpipe  with 
Pauline  Bonaparte  and  Madame  de  Stael ;  Marshal  Soult  went 
down  a  couple  of  sets  with  Madame  Recamier ;  and  Robes- 
pierre's^widow — an  excellent,  gentle  creature,  quite  unlike  her 
husband — stood  up  with  the  Austrian  ambassador.  Besides,, 
the  famous  artists  Baron  Gros,  David  and  Nicholas  Poussin,. 
and  Canova,  who  was  in  town  making  a  statue  of  the  Emperor 
for  Leo  X.,  and,  in  a  word,  all  the  celebrities  of  Paris — as  my 
gifted  countrywoman,  the  wild  Irish  girl,  calls  them  —  were 
assembled  in  the  Marquis's  elegant  receiving-rooms. 

At  last  a  great  outcry  was  raised  for  La  Gigue  Mandaise  1 
La  Gigue  Lrlatidaise  !  a  dance  winch  had  made  ■3ifureiir  amongst 
the  Parisians  ever  since  the  lovely  Blanche  Sarsfieldhad  danced 
it.  She  stepped  forward  and  took  me  for  a  partner,  and  amidst 
the  bravos  of  the  crowd,  in  which  stood  Ney,  Murat,  Lannes, 
the  Prince  of  Wagram,  and  the  Austrian  ambassador,  we  showed 
to  the  beau  monde  of  the  French  capital,  I  flatter  myself,  a  not 
unfavorable  specimen  of  the  dance  of  our  country. 

As  I  was  cutting  the  double-shuffle,  and  toe-and-heeling  it 
in  the  "  rail  "  style,  Blanche  danced  ujd  to  me,  smiling,  and  said, 
"  Be  on  your  guard  ;  I  see  Cambaceres  talking  to  Fouche,  the 
Duke  of  Otranto,  about  us ;  and  when  Otranto  turns  his  eyes 
upon  a  man,  they  bode  him  no  good." 

"  Cambaceres  is  jealous,"  said  I.  "  I  have  it,"  says  she  ; 
"  I'll  make  him  dance  a  turn  with  me."  So,  presently,  as  the 
music  was  going  like  mad  all  this  time,  I  pretended  fatigue  from 
my  late  wounds,  and  sat  down.  The  lovely  Blanche  went  up 
smiling,  and  brought  out  Cambaceres  as  a  second  partner. 


PHIL  FOG  ARTY. 


39 


The  Marshal  is  a  lusty  man,  who  makes  desperate  efforts  to 
give  himself  a  waist,  and  the  effect  of  the  exercise  upon  him 
ft^as  speedily  visible.  He  puffed  and  snorted  like  a  walrus, 
drops  trickled  down  his  purple  face,  while  my  lovely  mischief 
of  a  Blanche  went  on  dancing  at  treble  quick,  till  she  fairly 
danced  him  down. 

"  Who'll  take  the  flure  with  me  ?  "  said  the  charming  girl, 
animated  by  the  sport. 

"  Faix,  den,  'tis  I,  Lanty  Clancy !  "  cried  my  rascal,  who 
had  been  mad  with  excitement  at  the  scene ;  and,  stepping  in 
with  a  whoop  and  hurroo,  he  began  to  dance  with  such  rapidity 
as  made  all  present  stare. 

As  the  couple  were  footing  it,  there  was  a  noise  as  of  a 
rapid  cavalcade  traversing  the  Place  Vendome,  and  stopping  at 
the  Marquis's  door.  A  crowd  appeared  to  mount  the  stair ; 
the  great  doors  of  the  reception-room  were  flung  open,  and  two 
pages  announced  their  Majesties  the  Emperor  and  the  Empress. 
So  engaged  were  Lanty  and  Blanche,  that  they  never  heard  the 
tumult  occasioned  by  the  august  approach. 

It  was  indeed  the  Emperor,  who,  returning  from  the  Theatre 
Frangais,  and  seeing  the  Marquis's  windows  lighted  up,  pro* 
posed  to  the  Empress  to  drop  in  on  the  party.  He  made  signs 
to  the  musicians  to  continue  :  and  the  conqueror  of  Marengo 
and  Friedland  watched  with  interest  the  simple  evolutions  of 
two  happy  Irish  people.  Even  the  Empress  smiled  ;  and,  see- 
ing this,  all  the  courtiers,  including  Naples  and  Talleyrand, 
were  delighted. 

"  Is  not  this  a  great  day  for  Ireland  ?  "  said  the  Marquis, 
with  a  tear  trickling  down  his  noble  face.  "  O  Ireland  !  O 
my  country  !  But  no  more  of  that.  Go  up,  Phil,  you  divvlc, 
and  offer  her  Majesty  the  choice  of  punch  or  negus." 

Among  the  young  fellows  with  whom  I  was  most  intimate  in 
Paris  was  Eugene  Beauharnais,  the  son  of  the  ill-used  and  un- 
happy Josephine  by  her  former  marriage  with  a  French  gentle- 
man of  good  family.  Having  a  smack  of  the  old  blood  in  him, 
Eugene's  manners  were  much  more  refined  than  those  of  the 
new-fangled  dignitaries  of  the  Emperor's  Court,  where  (for  my 
knife  and  fork  were  regularly  laid  at  the  Tuileries)  I  have  seen 
my  poor  friend  Murat  repeatedly  mistake  a  fork  for  a  tooth-pick, 
and  the  gallant  Massena  devour  pease  by  means  of  his  knife, 
in  a  way  more  innocent  than  graceful.  Talleyrand,  Eugene, 
and  I  used  often  to  laugh  at  these  eccentricities  of  our  brave 
friends  ;  who  certainly  did  not  shine  in  the  drawing-room,  how- 
ever brilliant  they  were  in  the  field  of  battle.     The  Emperol 


4.0  I^O  VELS  B  V  EMINENT  HANDS. 

always  asked  me  to  take  wine  with  him,  and  was  full  of  kind« 
ness  and  attention.  - 

"  I  like  Eugene,"  he  would  say,  pinching  my  ear  confiden- 
tially, as  his  way  was — "  I  like  Eugene  to  keep  company  with 
such  young  fellows  as  you  ;  you  have  manners  ;  you  have  prin- 
ciples ;  my  rogues  from  the  camp  have  none.  And  I  like  you, 
Philip  my  boy,"  he  added,  for  being  so  attentive  to  my  poor 
wife — the  Empress  Josephine,  I  mean."  All  these  honors  made 
my  friends  at  the  Marquis's  very  proud,  and  my  enemies  at 
Court  crever  with  envy.  Among  these,  the  atrocious  Camba- 
ceres  was  not  the  least  active  and  envenomed. 

The  cause  of  the  many  attentions  which  were  paid  to  me, 
and  which,  like  a  vain  coxcomb,  I  had  chosen  to  attribute  to 
my  own  personal  amiability,  soon  was  apparent.  Having  formed 
a  good  opinion  of  my  gallantry  from  my  conduct  in  various 
actions  and  forlorn  hopes  during  the  war,  the  Emperor  was 
most  anxious  to  attach  me  to  his  service.  The  Grand  Cross 
of  St.  Louis,  the  title  of  Count,  the  command  of  a  crack  cavalry 
regiment,  the  i4me  Chevaux  Marins,  were  the  bribes  that  were 
actually  offered  to  me  ;  and  must  I  say  it  t  Blanche,  the  lovely, 
the  perfidious  Blanche,  was  one  of  the  agents  employed  to 
tempt  me  to  commit  this  act  of  treason. 

"  Object  to  enter  a  foreign  service  !  "  she  said,  in  reply  to 
my  refusal.  "  It  is  you,  Philip,  who  are  in  a  foreign  service. 
The  Irish  nation  is  in  exile,  and  in  the  territories  of  its  French 
allies.  Irish  traitors  are  not  here  ;  they  march  alone  under  the 
accursed  flag  of  the  Saxon,  whom  the  great  Napoleon  would 
have  swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  but  for  the  fatal  valor 
of  Irish  mercenaries  !  Accept  this  offer,  and  my  heart,  my 
hand,  my  all  are  yours.     Refuse  it,  Philip,  and  we  part." 

"  To  wed  the  abominable  Cambaceres !  "  I  cried,  stung  with 
rage.  "  To  wear  a  duchess's  coronet,  Blanche  !  Ha,  ha ! 
Mushrooms,  instead  of  strawberry-leaves,  should  decorate  the 
brows  of  the  upstart  French  nobility.  I  shall  withdraw  my 
parole.  I  demand  to  be  sent  to  prison — to  be  exchanged — to 
die — anything  rather  than  be  a  traitor,  and  the  tool  of  a  trai- 
tress !  "  Taking  up  my  hat,  I  left  the  room  in  a  fury;  and 
flinging  open  the  door  tumbled  over  Cambaceres,  who  was 
listening  at  the  keyhole,  and  must  have  overheard  every  word 
of  our  conversation. 

We  tumbled  over  each  other,  as  Blanche  was  shrieking  with 
laughter  at  our  mutual  discomfiture.  Her  scorn  only  made  me 
more  mad  ;  and,  having  spurs  on,  I  began  digging  tlicm  into 
Cambaceres'  fat  sides  as  we  rolled  on  the  carpet,  until  the  Mar- 
shal  howled  with  rage  and  anger. 


PHIL  FOG  ARTY.  4I 

"  This  insult  must  be  avenged  with  blood !  "  roared  the 
i)uke  of  Illyria. 

"  I  have  already  drawn  it,"  says  I,  "  with  my  spurs." 

"  Malheur  et  malediction  !  "  roared  the  Marshal. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  settle  your  wig  ?  "  says  I,  offering  it  to 
him  on  the  tip  of  my  cane,  "  and  we'll  arrange  time  and  place 
when  you  have  put  your  jasey  in  order."  I  shall  never  forget 
the  look  of  revenge  which  he  cast  at  me,  as  I  was  thus  turning 
him  into  ridicule  before  his  mistress, 

"  Lady  Blanche,"  I  continued  bitterly,  "  as  you  look  to  share 
the  Duke's  coronet,  hadn't  you  better  see  to  his  wig  ? "  and  so 
saying,  I  cocked  my  hat,  and  walked  out  of  the  Marquis's  place, 
whistling  "  Garryowen." 

I  knew  my  man  would  not  be  long  in  following  me,  and 
waited  for  him  in  the  Place  Vendome,  where  I  luckily  met  Eu- 
gene too,  who  was  looking  at  the  picture-shop  in  the  corner.  I 
explained  to  him  my  affair  in  a  twinkling.  He  at  once  agreed 
to  go  with  me  to  the  ground,  and  commended  me,  rather  than 
otherwise,  for  refusing  the  offer  which  had  been  made  to  me. 
"I  knew  it  would  be  so,"  he  said,  kindly  ;  "  I  told  my  father 
you  wouldn't.  A  man  with  the  blood  of  the  Fogarties,  Phil 
my  boy,  doesn't  wheel  about  like  those  fellows  of  yesterday." 
So,  when  Cambaceres  came  out,  which  he  did  presently,  with 
a  more  furious  air  than  before,  I  handed  him  at  once  over  to 
Eugene,  who  begged  him  to  name  a  friend,  and  an  early  hour 
for  the  meeting  to  take  place. 

"  Can  you  make  it  before  eleven,  Phil  ? "  said  Beauharnais. 
"  The  Emperor  reviews  the  troops  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  at 
that  hour,  and  we  might  fight  there  handy  before  the  review." 

"  Done  !  "  said  I.  "  I  want  of  all  things  to  see  the  newly- 
arrived  Saxon  cavalry  manoeuvre  :  "  on  which  Cambaceres  giv- 
ing me  a  look,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  See  sights  !  Watch  cavalry 
manoeuvres  !  Make  your  soul,  and  take  measure  for  a  coffin, 
my  boy ! "  walked  away,  naming  our  mutual  acquaintance, 
Marshal  Ney,  to  Eugene,  as  his  second  in  the  business. 

I  had  purchased  from  Murat  a  very  fine  Irish  horse.  Buga- 
boo, out  of  Smithereens,  by  Fadladeen,  which  ran  into  the 
French  ranks  at  Salamanca,  with  poor  Jack  Clonakilty,  of  the 
13th,  dead,  on  the  top  of  him.  Bugaboo  was  too  much  and 
too  ugly  an  animal  for  the  King  of  Naples,  who,  though  a  showy 
horseman,  was  a  bad  rider  across  country  ;  and  I  got  the  horse 
for  a  song.  A  wickeder  and  uglier  brute  never  wore  a  pig-skin  ; 
and  I  never  put  my  leg  over  such  a  timber-jumper  in  my  life. 
I  rode  the  horse  down  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  on  the  morning 


^  NO  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 

Ihat  the  affair  with  Cambac^res  was  to  come  off,  and  Lanty 
held  him  as  I  went  in,  "  sure  to  win,"  as  they  say  in  the  ring, 

Cambaceres  was  known  to  be  the  best  shot  in  the  French 
army  ;  but  I,  who  am  a  pretty  good  hand  at  a  snipe,  thought  a 
man  was  bigger,  and  tliat  I  could  wing  liim  if  I  had  a  mind. 
As  soon  as  Ney  gave  the  word,  we  both  fired  :  I  felt  a  whizz 
pass  my  left  ear,  and  putting  up  my  hand  there,  found  a  large 
piece  of  my  whiskers  gone ;  whereas  at  the  same  moment,  and 
shrieking  a  horrible  malediction,  my  adversary  reeled  and  fell, 

"  Mon  Dieu,  il  est  mort !  "  cried  Ney. 

"  Pas  de  tout,"  said  Beauharnais.  "  Ecoute  ;  il  jure  tou- 
jours." 

And  such,  indeed,  was  the  fact :  the  supposed  dead  man 
lay  on  the  ground  cursing  most  frightfully.  We  went  up  to 
him :  he  was  blind  with  the  loss  of  blood,  and  my  ball  had  car- 
ried off  the  bridge  of  his  nose.  He  recovered  ;  but  he  was 
always  called  the  Prince  of  Ponterotto  in  the  French  army  after- 
wards. The  surgeon  in  attendance  having  taken  charge  of  this 
unfortunate  warrior,  we  rode  off  to  the  review,  where  Ney  and 
Eugene  were  on  duty  at  the  head  of  their  respective  divisions ; 
and  where,  by  the  way,  Cambaceres,  as  the  French  say,  "  se 
faisait  de'sirer." 

It  was  arranged  that  Cambaceres' division  of  six  battalions 
and  nine-  and-twenty  squadrons  should  execute  a  ricochet  move- 
ment, supported  by  artillery  in  the  intervals,  and  converging  by 
different  epaulements  on  the  light  infantry,  that  formed  as  usual, 
the  centre  of  the  line.  It  was  by  this  famous  manoeuvre  that 
at  Areola,  at  Montenotte,  at  Friedland,  and  subsequently  at 
Mazagran,  Suwaroff,  Prince  Charles,  and  General  Castanos 
were  defeated  with  such  victorious  slaughter :  but  it  is  a  move- 
ment which,  I  need  not  tell  every  military  man,  requires  the 
greatest  delicacy  of  execution,  and  which,  if  it  fails,  plunges  an 
army  in  confusion. 

"Where  is  the  Duke  of  Illyria .?"  Napoleon  asked.  "At 
the  head  of  his  division,  no  doubt,"  said  Murat :  at  which 
Eugene,  giving  me  an  arch  look,  put  his  hand  to  his  nose,  and 
caused  me  almost  to  fall  off  my  horse  with  laughter.  Napoleon 
looked  sternly  at  me  ;  but  at  this  moment  the  troops  getting 
in  motion,  the  celebrated  manoeuvre  began,  and  his  Majesty's 
attention  was  taken  off  from  my  impudence. 

Milhaud's  Dragoons,  their  bands  playing  "Vive  Henri 
Quatre,"  their  cuirasses  gleaming  in  the  sunshine,  moved  upon 
their  own  centre  from  the  left  flank  in  the  most  brilliant  order, 
while  the  Carbineers  of  Foy,  and  the  Grenadiers  of  the  Guard 
under  Drouet  d'Erlon,  executed  a  carambolade  on  the  righ^ 


PHIL  FOG  ARTY.  43 

With  the  precision  which  became  those  veteran  troops ;  but  the 
Chasseurs  of  the  young  guard,  marching  by  twos  instead  of 
threes,  bore  consequently  upon  the  Bavarian  Uhlans  (an  ill-dis- 
ciplined and  ill-afifected  body),  and  then,  falling  back  in  disorder, 
became  entangled  with  the  artillery  and  the  left  centre  of  the 
line,  and  in  one  instant  thirty  thousand  men  were  in  inextric- 
able confusion. 

"  Clubbed,  by  Jabers !  "  roared  out  Lanty  Clancy.  "  I  wish 
we  could  show  'em  the  Fighting  Onety-oneth,  Captain  darling." 

"  Silence,  fellow !  "  I  exclaimed.  I  never  saw  the  face  of 
man  express  passion  so  vividly  as  now  did  the  livid  countenance 
of  Napoleon.  He  tore  off  General  Milhaud's  epaulettes,  which 
he  flung  into  Foy's  face.  He  glared  about  him  wildly,  like  a 
demon,  and  shouted  hoarsely  for  the  Duke  of  Illyria.  "  He  is 
wounded,  sire,"  said  General  Foy,  wiping  a  tear  from  his  eye, 
which  was  blackened  by  the  force  of  the  blow  ;  "  he  was 
wounded  an  hour  since  in  a  duel,  Sire,  by  a  young  English 
prisoner.  Monsieur  de  Fogarty." 

"  Wounded  !  a  Marshal  of  France  wounded  !  Where  is  the 
Englishman  ?     Bring  him  out,  and  let  a  file  of  grenadiers ' 

"  Sire  !  "  interposed  Eugene. 

"Let  him  be  shot !"  shrieked  the  Emperor,  shaking  his 
spy-glass  at  me  with  the  fury  of  a  fiend. 

This  was  too  much.  "  Here  goes  !  "  said  T,  and  rode  slap 
at  him. 

There  was  a  shriek  of  terror  from  the  whole  of  the  French 
army,  and  I  should  think  at  least  forty  thousand  guns  were 
levelled  at  me  in  an  instant.  But  as  the  muskets  were  not 
loaded,  and  the  cannon  had  only  wadding  in  them,  these  facts, 
I  presume,  saved  the  life  of  Phil  Fogarty  from  this  discharge. 

Knowing  my  horse,  I  put  him  at  the  Emperor's  head,  and 
Bugaboo  went  at  it  like  a  shot.  He  was  riding  his  famous 
white  Arab,  and  turned  quite  pale  as  I  came  up  and  went  over 
the  horse  and  the  Emperor,  scarcely  brushing  the  cockade 
which  he  wore. 

"  Bravo  !  "  said  Murat,  bursting  into  enthusiasm  at  the 
leap. 

"  Cut  him  down  !  "  said  Sieyes,  once  an  Abbe',  but  now  a 
gigantic  Cuirassier ;  and  he  made  a  pass  at  me  with  his  sword. 
But  he  little  knew  an  Irishman  on  an  Irish  horse.  Bugaboo 
cleared  Sieyes,  and  fetched  the  monster  a  slap  with  his  near 
hind  hoof  which  sent  him  reeling  from  his  saddle, — and  away  I 
went  with  an  army  of  a  hundred  and  seventy-three  thousand 
eight  hundred  men  at  my  heels.     *     *     *     * 


BARBAZURE. 

By  G.  p.  R.  Jeames,-  Esq.  etc 


I. 

It  was  upon  one  of  those  balmy  evenings  of  Novembei 
which  are  only  known  in  the  valleys  of  Languedoc  and  among 
the  mountains  of  Alsace,  that  two  cavaliers  might  have  been 
perceived  by  the  naked  eye  threading  one  of  the  rocky  and 
romantic  gorges  that  skirt  the  mountain-land  between  the 
Marne  and  the  Garonne.  The  rosy  tints  of  the  declining  lu- 
minary were  gilding  the  peaks  and  crags  which  lined  the  path, 
through  which  the  horsemen  wound  slowly ;  and  as  these  eter- 
nal battlements  with  which  Nature  had  hemmed  in  the  ravine 
which  our  travellers  trod,  blushed  with  the  last  tints  of  the 
fading  sunlight,  the  valley  below  was  gray  and  darkling,  and 
the  hard  and  devious  course  was  sombre  in  twilight.  A  few 
goats,  hardly  visible  among  the  peaks,  were  cropping  the 
scanty  herbage  here  and  there.  The  pipes  of  shepherds,  call- 
ing in  their  flocks  as  they  trooped  homewards  to  their  mountain 
villages,  sent  up  plaintive  echoes  which  moaned  through  those 
rocky  and  lonely  steeps ;  the  stars  began  to  glimmer  in  the 
purple  heavens  spread  serenely  overhead  ;  and  the  faint  cres- 
cent of  the  moon,  which  had  peered  for  some  time  scarce  visi- 
ble in  the  azure,  gleamed  out  more  brilliantly  at  every  moment, 
until  it  blazed  as  if  in  triumph  at  the  sun's  retreat.  'Tis  a 
fair  land  that  of  France,  a  gentle,  a  green,  and  a  beautiful ; 
the  home  of  arts  and  arms,  of  chivalry  and  romance,  and  (how- 
ever sadly  stained  by  the  excesses  of  modern  times)  'twas  the 
unbought  grace  of  nations  once,  and  the  seat  of  ancient  re- 
nown and  disciplined  valor. 

And  of  all  that  fair  land  of  France,  whose  beauty  is  so 
bright  and  bravery  is  so  famous,  there  is  no  spot  greener  ot 
(44) 


BAKBAZURE. 


4$ 


fairer  than  that  one  over  which  our  travellers  wended,  and 
which  stretches  between  the  good  towns  of  Vendemia'ire  and 
Nivose.  'Tis  common  now  to  a  hundred  thousand  voyagers  : 
the  English  tourist  with  his  chariot  and  his  Harvey's  Sauce, 
and  his  imperials  ;  the  bustling  commis-voyageur  on  the  roof  of 
the  rumbling  diligence  ;  the  rapid  maUc-poste  thundering  over 
the  chaussee  at  twelve  miles  an  hour — pass  the  ground  hourly 
and  daily  now  :  'twas  lonely  and  unfrequented  at  the  end  of 
that  seventeenth  century  with  which  our  story  commences. 

Along  the  darkening  mountain-paths  the  two  gentlemen 
(for  such  their  outward  bearing  proclaimed  them)  caracolled 
together.  The  one,  seemingly  the  younger  of  the  twain,  wore  a 
flaunting  feather  in  his  barret-cap,  and  managed  a  prancing 
Andalusian  palfrey  that  bounded  and  curvetted  gayly.  A  sur- 
coat  of  peach-colored  samite  and  a  purfled  doublet  of  vair 
bespoke  him  noble,  as  did  his  brilliant  eye,  his  exquisitely 
chiselled  nose,  and  his  curling  chestnut  ringlets. 

Youth  was'  on  his  brow :  his  eyes  were  dark  and  dewy,  like 
spring  violets ;  and  spring-roses  bloomed  upon  his  cheek  — 
roses,  alas !  that  bloom  and  die  with  life's  spring  !  Now 
bounding  over  a  rock,  now  playfully  whisking  off  with  his 
riding  rod  a  floweret  in  his  path,  Philibert  de  Coquelicot  rode 
by  his  darker  companion. 

His  comrade  was  mounted  upon  a  destrien'  of  the  true  Nor- 
man breed,  that  had  first  champed  grass  on  the  green  pastures 
of  Aquitaine.  Thence  through  Berry,  Picardy,  and  the  Limou- 
sin, halting  at  many  a  city  and  commune,  holding  joust  and 
tourney  in  many  a  castle  and  manor  of  Navarre,  Poitou,  and 
St.  Germain  I'Auxerrois,  the  warrior  and  his  charger  reached 
the  lonely  spot  where  now  we  find  them. 

The  warrior  who  bestrode  the  noble  beast  was  in  sooth 
worthy  of  the  steed  which  bore  him.  Both  were  caparisoned 
in  the  fullest  trappings  of  feudal  war.  The  arblast,  the  man- 
gonel, the  demi-culverin,  and  the  cuissart  of  the  period,  glittered 
upon  the  neck  and  chest  of  the  war-steed  ;  while  the  rider, 
with  chamfron  and  catapult,  with  ban  and  arriere-ban,  morion 
and  tumbrel,  battle-axe  and  rifflard,  and  the  other  appurtenances 
of  ancient  chivalry,  rode  stately  on  his  steel-clad  charger,  him- 
self a  tower  of  steel.  This  mighty  horseman  was  carried  by 
his  steed  as  lightly  as  the  young  springald  by  his  Andalusian 
hackney. 

"  'Twas  well  done  of  thee,  Philibert,"  said  he  of  the  proof- 
armor,  "  to  ride  forth  so  far  to  welcome  thy  cousin  and  com* 
panion  in  arms," 


46  NO  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 

"  Companion  in  battledore  and  shuttlecock,  Romand  de 
Clos-Vougeot  !  "  replied  the  younger  Cavalier.  "  When  I  was 
3'et  a  page,  thou  wert  a  belted  knight ;  and  thou  wert  away  to 
the  Crusades  ere  ever  my  beard  grew." 

"  I  stood  by  Richard  of  England  at  the  gates  of  Ascalon, 
and  drew  the  spear  from  sainted  King  Louis  in  the  tents 
of  Damietta,"  the  individual  addressed  as  Romane  replied. 
"  Well-a-day  !  since  thy  beard  grew,  boy  (and  marry  'tis  yet  a 
thin  one),  I  have  brokan  a  lance  with  Solyman  at  Rhodes,  and 
smoked  a  chibouque  with  Saladin  at  Acre.  But  enough  of  this. 
Tell  me  of  home — of  our  native  valley — of  my  hearth,  and  my 
lady-mother,  and  my  good  chaplain — tell  me  of  her,  Philibert," 
said  the  knight,  executing  a  demi-volte,  in  order  to  hide  his 
emotion. 

Philibert  seemed  uneasy,  and  to  strive  as  though  he  would 
parry  the  question.  "  The  castle  stands  on  the  rock,"  he  said, 
"  and  the  swallows  still  build  in  the  battlements.  The  good 
chaplain  still  chants  his  vespers  at  morn,  and  snuffles  his 
matins  at  even-song.  The  lady-mother  still  distributeth  tracts, 
and  knitteth  Berlin  linsey-woolsey.  The  tenants  pay  no  better, 
and  the  lawyers  dun  as  sorely,  kinsman  mine,"  he  added  with 
an  arch  look. 

"  But  Fatima,  Fatima,  how  fares  she  ?  "  Romane  continued. 
"  Since  Lammas  was  a  twelvemonth,  I  hear  nought  of  her  ; 
my  letters  are  unanswered.  The  postman  hath  traversed  our 
camp  every  day,  and  never  brought  me  a  billet.  How  is 
Fatima,  Philibert  de  Coquelicot  ?  " 

"  She  is — well,"  Philibert  replied  ;  "  her  sister  Anne  is  the 
fairest  of  the  twain,  though." 

"  Her  sister  .\nne  was  a  baby  when  I  embarked  for  Egypt. 
A  plague  on  sister  Anne!  Speak  of  Fatima,  Philibert  —  my 
blue-eyed  Fatima  !  " 

"I  say  she  is — well,"  answered  his  comrade  gloomily. 

"Is  she  dead?  Is  she  ill  ?  Hath  she  the  measles  .■*  Nay, 
hath  she  had  small-pox,  and  lost  her  beauty  .-*  Speak  !  speak, 
boy !  "  cried  the  knight,  wrought  to  agony. 

"  Her  cheek  is  as  red  as  her  mother's,  though  the  old 
countess  j^aints  hers  every  day.  Her  foot  is  as  light  as  a 
sparrow's,  and  her  voice  as  sweet  as  a  minstrel's  dulcimer ;  but 
give  me  nathless  the  Lady  Anne,"  cried  Philibert;  "give  me 
the  peerless  Lady  Anne  !  As  soon  as  ever  I  have  won  spurs, 
I  will  ride  all  Christendom  through,  and  proclaim  her  the 
Queen  of  Beauty.  Ho,  Lady  Anne  !  Lady  Anne  !  "  and  so 
saying — but  evidently  wishing  to  disguise  some  emotion,  or  con* 


BARBAZURE.  .y 

cea!  some  tale  his  friend  could  ill  brook  to  hear — tlie  reckless 
damoiseau  galloped  wildly  forward. 

But  swift  as  was  his  courser's  pace,  that  of  his  compan- 
ion's enonnous  charger  was  swifter.  "  Boy,"  said  the  elder, 
"  thou  hast  ill  tidings.  I  know  it  by  thy  glance.  Speak : 
shall  he  who  hath  bearded  grim  Death  in  a  thousand  fields 
shame  to  face  truth  from  a  friend  ?  Speak,  in  the  name-  of 
heaven  and  good  Saint  Botibol.  Romane  de  Clos-Vougeot 
will  bear  your  tidings  like  a  man  !  " 

"  Fatima  is  well,"  answered  Philibert  once  again ;  "  she 
hath  had  no  measles  :  she  lives  and  is  still  fair." 

"  Fair,  ay,  peerless  fair :  but  what  more,  Philibert  ?  Not 
false?  By  Saint  Botibol,  say  not  false,"  groaned  the  elder 
warrior. 

"  A  month  syne,"  Philibert  replied,  "  she  married  the  Baron 
de  Barbazure." 

With  that  scream  which  is  so  terrible  in  a  strong  man  in 
agony,  the  brave  knight  Romane  de  Clos-Vougeot  sank  back 
at  the  words,  and  fell  from  his  charger  to  the  ground,  a  lifeless 
mass  of  steel. 


II. 

Like  many  another  fabric  of  feudal  war  and  splendor,  the 
once  vast  and  magnificent  Castle  of  Barbazure  is  now  a  moss- 
grown  ruin.  The  traveller  of  the  present  day,  who  wanders  by 
the  banks  of  the  silvery  Loire,  and  climbs  the  steep  on  which 
the  magnificent  edifice  stood,  can  scarcely  trace,  among  the 
shattered  masses  of  ivy-covered  masonry  which  lie  among  the 
lonely  crags,  even  the  skeleton  of  the  proud  and  majestic  palace 
stronghold  of  the  Barons  of  Barbazure. 

In  the  days  of  our  tale  its  turrets  and  pinnacles  rose  as 
stately,  and  seemed  (to  the  pride  of  sinful  man  !)  as  strong  as 
the  eternal  rocks  on  which  they  stood.  The  three  mullets  on 
a  gules  wavy  reversed,  surmounted  by  the  sinople  couchant 
Or ;  the  well-known  cognizance  of  the  house,  blazed  in  gor- 
geous heraldry  on  a  hundred  banners,  surmounting  as  many 
towers.  The  long  lines  of  battlemented  walls  spread  down 
the  mountain  to  the  Loire,  and  were  defended  by  thousands  of 
steel-clad  serving-men.  Four  hundred  knights  and  six  times 
as  many  archers  fought  round  the  banner  of  Barbazure  at  Bou' 

4 


-g  NO  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 

vines,  Malplaquet,  and  Azincour.  For  his  services  at  Fonte- 
noy  against  the  EngUsh,  the  heroic  Charles  Martel  appointed 
tlie  fourteenth  Baron  Hereditary  Grand  Bootjack  of  the  king- 
dom of  France;  and  for  wealth,  and  for  splendor,  and  for  skill 
and  fame  in  war,  Raoul,  the  twenty-eighth  Baron,  was  in  nowise 
inferior  to  his  noble  ancestors. 

That  the  Baron  Raoul  levied  toll  upon  the  river  and  mail 
upon  the  shore  ;  that  he  now  and  then  ransomed  a  burgher, 
plundered  a  neighbor,  or  drew  the  fangs  of  a  Jew  ;  that  he 
burned  an  enemy's  castle  with  the  wife  and  children  within ; 
these  were  points  for  which  the  country  knew  and  respected  the 
stout  Baron,  When  he  returned  from  victory,  he  was  sure  to  en- 
dow the  Church  with  a  part  of  his  spoil,  so  that  when  he  went 
forth  to  battle  he  was  always  accompanied  by  her  blessing. 
Thus  lived  the  Baron  Raoul,  the  pride  of  the  country  in  which 
he  dwelt,  an  ornament  to  the  Court,  the  Church,  and  his 
neighbors. 

But  in  the  midst  of  all  his  power  and  splendor  there  was  a 
domestic  grief  which  deeply  afflicted  the  princely  Barbazure, 
His  lovely  ladies  died  one  after  the  other.  No  sooner  was  he 
married  than  he  was  a  widower  ;  in  the  course  of  eighteen 
years  no  less  than  nine  bereavements  had  befallen  the  chief- 
tain. So  true  it  is,  that  if  fortune  is  a  parasite,  grief  is  a  re- 
publican, and  visits  the  hall  of  the  great  and  wealthy  as  it  does 

the  humbler  tenements  of  the  poor, 

*  *  *  *  ^ 

"  Leave  off  deploring  thy  faithless,  gad-about  lover,"  said 
the  Lady  of  Chacabacque  to  her  daughter,  the  lovely  Fatima, 
"  and  think  how  the  noble  Barbazure  loves  thee  !  Of  all  the 
damsels  at  the  ball  last  night,  he  had  eyes  for  thee  and  thy 
cousin  only," 

"  I  am  sure  my  cousin  hath  no  good  looks  to  be  proud  of  !  " 
the  admirable  Fatima  exclaimed,  bridling  up.  "Not  that/ 
care  for  my  Lord  of  Barbazure's  looks.  My  heart,  dearest 
mother,  is  with  him  who  is  far  away  !  " 

"  He  danced  with  thee  four  galliards,  nine  quadrilles,  and 
twenty-three  corantoes,  I  think,  child,"  the  mother  said,  elud- 
ing her  daughter's  remark, 

"  Twenty-five,"  said  lovely  Fatima,  casting  her  beautiful 
eyes  to  the  ground,  "  Heigh-ho  !  but  Romane  danced  them 
very  well !  " 

"  He  had  not  the  court  air,"  the  mother  suggested. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  deny  the  beauty  of  the  Lord  of  Barbazure's 
4ancing,  mamma,"  Fatima  replied.     "  For  a  short,  lusty  man, 


BARBAZURE.  49 

'tis  wondrous  how  active  he  is ;  and  in  dignity  tlie  King's  Grace 
himself  could  not  surpass  him." 

"You  were  the  noblest  couple  in  the  room,  love,"  the  lady 
cried. 

**  That  pea-green  doublet,  slashed  with  orange  tawney,  those 
ostrich  plumes,  blue,  red,  and  yellow,  those  parti-colored  hose 
and  pink  shoon,  became  the  noble  baron  wondrous  well,"  Fa- 
tima  acknowledged.  "  It  must  be  confessed  that,  though  mid- 
dle-aged, he  hath  all  the  agility  of  youth.  But  alas,  madam  ! 
The  noble  baron  hath  had  nine  wives  already." 

"And  your  cousin  would  give  her  eyes  to  become  thq 
tenth,"  the  mother  replied. 

"  My  cousin  give  her  eyes  !  "  Fatima  exclaimed.  "  It's  not 
much,  I'm  sure,  for  she  squints  abominably."  And  thus  the 
ladies  prattled,  as  they  rode  home  at  night  after  the  great  ball 
at  the  house  of  the  Baron  of  Barbazure. 

The  gentle  reader,  who  has  overheard  their  talk,  will  under- 
stand the  doubts  which  pervaded  the  mind  of  the  lovely  Fatima, 
and  the  well-nurtured  English  maiden  will  participate  in  the 
divided  feelings  which  rent  her  bosom.  'Tis  true,  that  on  his 
departure  for  the  holy  wars,  Romane  and  Fatima  were  plighted 
to  each  other  ;  but  the  folly  of  long  engagements  is  proverbial  \ 
and  though  for  many  months  the  faithful  and  affectionate  girl 
had  looked  in  vain  for  news  from  him,  her  admirable  parents 
had  long  spoken  with  repugnance  of  a  match  which  must  bring 
inevitable  poverty  to  both  parties.  They  had  suffered,  'tis  true, 
the  engagement  to  subside,  hostile  as  they  ever  were  to  it ;  but 
when  on  the  death  of  the  ninth  lady  of  Barbazure,  the  noble 
baron  remarked  Fatima  at  the  funeral,  and  rode  home  with  her 
after  the  ceremony,  her  prudent  parents  saw  how  much  wiser, 
better,  happier  for  their  child  it  would  be  to  have  for  life  a 
partner  like  the  baron,  than  to  wait  the  doubtful  return  of  the 
penniless  wanderer  to  whom  she  was  plighted. 

Ah  !  how  beautiful  and  pure  a  being  !  how  regardless  of 
self  !  how  true  to  duty  !  how  obedient  to  parental  command,  is 
that  earthly  angel,  a  well-bred  woman  of  genteel  family  !  In- 
stead of  indulging  in  splenetic  refusals  or  vain  regrets  for  her 
absent  lover,  the  exemplary  Fatima  at  once  signified  to  her  ex- 
cellent parents  her  willingness  to  obey  their  orders ;  though 
she  had  sorrows  (and  she  declared  them  to  be  tremendous), 
the  admirable  being  disguised  them  so  well,  that  none  knew 
they  oppressed  her.  She  said  she  would  try  to  forget  former 
ties,  and  (so  strong  in  her  mind  was  duty  above  every  other 
feeling ! — so  strong  may  it  be  in  every  British  maiden !)  the 


£  o  NO  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HA  NDS. 

lovely  girl  kept  her  promise.  "  My  former  engagements,'  she 
said,  packing  up  Romane's  letters  and  i^resents,  (which,  as  the 
good  knight  was  mortal  poor,  were  in  sooth  of  no  great  price) 
— "  my  former  engagements  I  look  upon  as  childish  follies  \ — ■ 
my  affections  are  fixed  where  my  dear  parents  graft  them — on 
the  noble,  the  princely,  the  polite  Barbazure.  'Tis  true  he  is 
not  comely  in  feature,  but  the  chaste  and  well-bred  female 
knows  how  to  despise  the  fleeting  charms  of  form.  'Tis  true 
he  is  old  ;  but  can  woman  be  better  employed  than  in  tending 
her  aged  and  sickly  companion  1  That  he  has  been  married  is 
likewise  certain — but  ah,  my  mother  !  who  knows  not  that  he 
must  be  a  good  and  tender  husband,  who,  nine  times  wedded, 
owns  that  he  cannot  be  happy  without  another  partner  ?  " 

It  was  with  these  admirable  sentiments  the  lovely  Fatima 
proposed  obedience  to  her  parents'  will,  and  consented  to  re- 
ceive the  magnificent  marriage-gift  presented  to  her  by  her  gal- 
lant bridegroom. 


III. 

The  old  Countess  of  Chacabacque  had  made  a  score  of 
vain  attempts  to  see  her  hapless  daughter.  Ever,  when  she 
came,  the  porters  grinned  at  her  savagely  through  the  grating 
of  the  portcullis  of  the  vast  embattled  gate  of  the  Castle  of 
Barbazure,  and  rudely  bade  her  begone.  "  The  Lady  of  Bar- 
bazure sees  nobody  but  her  confessor,  and  keeps  her  chamber," 
was  the  invariable  reply  of  the  dogged  functionaries  to  the  en- 
treaties of  the  agonized  mother.  And  at  length,  so  furious  was 
he  at  her  perpetual  calls  at  his  gate,  that  the  angry  Lord  of 
Barbazure  himself,  who  chanced  to  be  at  the  postern,  armed  a 
cross-bow,  and  let  fly  an  arblast  at  the  crupper  of  the  lady's 
palfrey,  whereon  she  fled  finally,  screaming,  and  in  terror.  "  I 
will  aim  at  the  rider  next  time  !  "  howled  the  ferocious  baron, 
"  and  not  at  the  horse  !  "  And  those  who  knew  his  savage 
nature  and  his  unrivalled  skill  as  a  bowman,  knew  that  he 
would  neither  break  his  knightly  promise  nor  miss  his  aim. 

Since  the  fatal  day  when  the  Grand  Duke  of  Burgundy  gave 
his  famous  passage  of  arms  at  Nantes,  and  all  the  nobles  of 
France  were  present  at  the  joustings,  it  was  remarked  that  the 
Barbazure's  heart  was  changed  towards  his  gentle  and  virtuous 
lady. 


BARBAZUKE. 


51 


For  the  three  first  days  of  that  famous  festival,  the  redoubted 
Baron  of  Barbazure  had  kept  the  field  against  all  the  knights 
who  entered.  His  lance  bore  everything  down  before  it.  The 
most  famous  champions  of  Europe,  assembled  at  these  joust- 
ings,  had  dropped,  one  by  one,  before  this  tremendous  warrior. 
The  j)rize  of  the  tourney  was  destined  to  be  his,  and  he  was  to 
be  proclaimed  bravest  of  the  brave,  as  his  lady  was  the  fairest 
of  the  fair. 

On  the  third  day,  however,  as  the  sun  was  declining  over 
the  Vosges,  and  the  shadows  were  lengthening  over  the  plain 
where  the  warrior  had  obtained  such  triumphs ; — after  having 
overcome  two  hundred  and  thirteen  knights  of  different  nations, 
including  the  fiery  Dunois,  the  intrepid  Walter  Manny,  the 
spotless  Bayard,  and  the  undaunted  Duguesclin,  as  the  con- 
queror sat  still  erect  on  his  charger,  and  the  multitude  doubted 
whether  ever  another  champion  could  be  found  to  face  him, 
three  blasts  of  a  trumpet  were  heard,  faint  at  first,  but  at  every 
moment  ringing  more  clearly,  until  a  knight  in  pink  armor  rode 
into  the  lists  with  his  visor  down,  and  riding  a  tremendous  dun 
charger,  which  he  managed  to  the  admiration  of  all  present. 

The  heralds  asked  him  his  name  and  quality. 

"  Call  me,"  said  he,  in  a  hollow  voice,  "  the  Jilted  Knight." 
What  was  it  made  the  Lady  of  Barbazure  tremble  at  his  ac- 
cents. 

The  Knight  refused  to  tell  his  name  and  qualities ;  but  the 
companion  who  rode  with  him,  the  young  and  noble  Philibert 
de  Coquelicot,  who  was  known  and  respected  universally 
through  the  neighborhood,  gave  a  warranty  for  the  birth  and 
noble  degree  of  the  Jilted  Knight — and  Raoul  de  Barbazure, 
yelling  hoarsely  for  a  two-hundred-and-fourteenth  lance,  shook 
the  huge  weapon  in  the  air  as  though  it  were  a  reed,  and  pre- 
pared to  encounter  the  intruder. 

According  to  the  wont  of  chivalry,  and  to  keep  the  point  of 
the  spear  from  harm,  the  top  of  the  unknown  knight's  lance 
was  shielded  with  a  bung,  which  the  warrior  removed  ;  and 
galloping  up  to  Barbazure's  pavilion,  over  which  his  shield 
hung,  touched  that  noble  cognizance  with  the  sharpened  steel. 
A  thrill  of  excitement  ran  through  the  assembly  at  this  daring 
challenge  to  a  combat  a  routrance.  "  Hast  thou  confessed.  Sir 
Knight  ? "  roared  the  Barbazure  •  "  take  thy  ground,  and  look 
to  thyself ;  for  by  heaven  thy  last  hour  is  come !  "  "  Poor 
youth,  poor  youth!"  sighed  the  spectators;  "he  has  called 
down  his  own  fate."  The  next  minute  the  signal  was  given, 
and  as  the  simoom  across  the  desert,  the  cataract  down  the 


52 


NO  VELS  B  V  EMINENT  HANDS. 


rock,  the  shell  from  the  howitzer,  each  warrior  rushed  from  his 

goal. 

****** 

"  Thou  wilt  not  slay  so  good  a  champion  ?  "  said  the  Grand 
Duke,  as  at  the  end  of  that  terrific  combat  the  knight  in  rose 
armor  stood  over  his  prostrate  foe,  whose  helmet  had  rolled  ofif 
when  he  was  at  length  unhorsed,  and  whose  bloodshot  eyes, 
glared  unutterable  hate  and  ferocity  on  his  conqueror. 

"  Take  thy  life,"  said  he  who  had  styled  himself  the  Jilted 
Knight ;  "  thou  hast  taken  all  that  was  dear  to  me."  And  the 
sun  setting,  and  no  other  warrior  appearing  to  do  battle  against 
him,  he  was  proclaimed  the  conqueror,  and  rode  up  to  the 
duchess's  balcony  to  receive  the  gold  chain  which  was  the  re- 
ward of  the  victor.  He  raised  his  visor  as  the  smiling  princess 
guerdoned  him — raised  it,  and  gave  one  sad  look  towards  the 
Lady  Fatima  at  her  side  ! 

"  Romane  de  Clos-Vougeot !  "  shrieked  she,  and  fainted. 
The  Baron  of  Barbazure  heard  the  name  as  he  writhed  on  the 
ground  with  his  wound,  and  by  his  slighted  honor,  by  his  broken 
ribs,  by  his  roused  fury,  he  swore  revenge ;  and  the  Ladj 
Fatima,  who  had  come  to  the  tourney  as  a  queen,  returned  to 
her  castle  as  a  prisoner. 

(As  it  is  impossible  to  give  the  whole  of  this  remarkable 
novel,  let  it  suffice  to  say  briefly  here,  that  in  about  a  volume 
and  a  half,  in  which  the  descriptions  of  scenery,  the  account  of 
the  agonies  of  the  baroness,  kept  on  bread-and-water  in  her 
dungeon,  and  the  general  tone  of  moralit}'',  are  all  excellently 
worked  out,  the  Baron  de  Barbazure  resolves  upon  putting  his 
wife  to  death  by  the  hands  of  the  public  executioner.) 

Two  minutes  before  the  clock  struck  noon,  the  savage 
baron  was  on  the  platform  to  inspect  the  preparation  for  the 
frightful  ceremony  of  mid-day. 

The  block  was  laid  forth — the  hideous  minister  of  ven- 
geance, masked  and  in  black,  with  the  flaming  glaive  in  his 
hand,  was  ready.  The  baron  tried  the  edge  of  the  blade  with 
his  finger,  and  asked  the  dreadful  swordsman  if  his  hand  was 
sure  ?  A  nod  was  the  reply  of  the  man  of  blood.  The  weeping 
garrison  and  domestics  shuddered  and  shrank  from  him.  There 
"was  not  one  there  but  loved  and  pitied  the  gentle  lady. 

Pale,  pale  as  a  stone,  she  was  brought  from  her  dungeon. 
To  all  her  lord's  savage  interrogatories,  her  reply  had  been,  "I 
am  innocent."  To  his  threats  of  death  her  answer  was,  "You 
are  my  lord  ;  my  life  is  in  your  hands,  to  take  or  to  give."    Ho\« 


BARBAZURE.  53 

few  are  the  wives,  in  our  day,  who  show  such  angelic  meekness  ! 
It  touched  all  hearts  around  her,  save  that  of  the  implacable 
Barbazure  !  Even  the  Lady  Blanche  (Fatima's  cousin),  whom 
he  had  promised  to  marry  upon  his  faithless  wife's  demise,  be- 
sought for  her  kinswoman's  life,  and  a  divorce  ;  but  Barbazure 
had  vowed  her  death. 

"Is  there  no  pity,  sir?"  asked  the  chaplain  who  had  at- 
tended her. 

"  No  pity  ?  "  echoed  the  weeping  serving-maid. 

"  Did  I  not  aye  say  I  would  die  for  my  lord  ? "  said  th« 
gentle  lady,  and  placed  herself  at  the  block. 

Sir  Raoul  de  Barbazure  seized  up  the  long  ringlets  of  her 
raven  hair.  "  Now  !  "  shouted  he  to  the  executioner,  with  a 
stamp  of  his  foot — "  Now  strike  !  " 

The  man  (who  knew  his  trade)  advanced  at  once,  and 
poised  himself  to  deliver  his  blow:  and  making  his  flashing 
sword  sing  in  the  air,  with  one  irresistible,  rapid  stroke,  it 
sheared  clean  off  the  head  of  the  furious,  the  blood-thirsty,  the 
implacable  Baron  de  Barbazure  ! 

Thus  he  fell  a  victim  to  his  own  jealousy ;  and  the  agitation 
of  the  Lady  Fatima  may  be  imagined,  when  the  executioner, 
flinging  off  his  mask,  knelt  gracefully  at  her  feet,  and  revealed 
to  her  the  well-known  features  of  Romane  de  Clos-Vougeot. 


LORDS    AND    LIVERIES. 

By    the   Authoress  of  "  Dukes  and  Dejeuners,"   "  Hearts    and 
Diamonds,"  "  Marchionesses  and  Milliners,"  etc.,  etc. 


I. 

"  CoRBLEu  !  What  a  lovely  creature  that  was  in  the  Fitz- 
battleaxe  box  to-night,"  said  one  of  a  group  of  young  dandies 
who  were  leaning  over  the  velvet-cushioned  balconies  of  the 
"  Coventry  Club,"  smoking  their  full-flavored  Cubas  (from 
Hudson's)  after  the  opera. 

Everybody  stared  at  such  an  exclamation  of  enthusiasm 
from  the  lips  of  the  young  Earl  of  Bagnigge,  who  was  never 
heard  to  admire  anything  except  a  couUs  de  dindoiineau  a  la  St. 
Mhic/iou/d,  or  a  supreme  de  cochon  en  torticolis  a  la  Piffarde ;  such 
as  Champollion,  the  chef  of  the  "  Traveller's,"  only  knows  how 
to  dress ;  or  the  bouquet  of  a  flask  of  Medoc,  of  Carbonell's 
best  quality  ;  or  a  goiitte  of  Marasquin,  from  the  cellars  of 
Briggs  and  Hobson. 

Alured  de  Pentonville,  eighteenth  Earl  of  Bagnigge,  Vis- 
count Paon  of  Islington,  Baron  Pancras,  Kingscross,  and  a 
Baronet,  was,  like  too  many  of  our  young  men  of  to7i,  utterly 
blase,  although  only  in  his  twenty-fourth  year.  Blest,  luckily, 
with  a  mother  of  excellent  principles  (who  had  imbued  his 
young  mind  with  that  Morality  which  is  so  superior  to  all  the 
vain  pomps  of  the  world  !)  it  had  not  been  always  the  young 
earl's  lot  to  wear  the  coronet  for  which  he  now  in  sooth  cared 
so  little.  His  father,  a  captain  of  Britain's  navy,  struck  down 
by  the  side  of  the  gallant  Collingwood  in  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  left 
little  but  his  sword  and  spotless  name  to  his  young,  lovely,  and 
inconsolable  widow,  who  passed  the  first  years  of  her  mourning 
in  educating  her  child  in  an  elegant  though  small  cottage  in 
one  of  the  romantic  marine  villages  of  beautiful  Devonshire. 
(54) 


LORDS  AND  LIVERIES.  ^^ 

Her  child !  What  a  gush  of  consolation  filled  the  widow's 
heart  as  she  pressed  him  to  it !  How  faithfully  did  she  instil 
into  his  young  bosom  those  principles  which  had  been  the  pole- 
star  of  the  existence  of  his  gallant  father ! 

In  this  secluded  retreat,  rank  and  wealth  almost  boundless 
found  the  widow  and  her  boy.  The  seventeenth  Earl — gallant 
and  in  the  prime  of  youth — went  forth  one  day  from  the  Eternal 
City  to  a  steeple-chase  in  the  Campagna.  A  mutilated  corpse 
was  brought  back  to  his  hotel  in  the  Piazza  di  Spagna.  Death, 
alas  !  is  no  respecter  of  the  Nobility.  That  shattered  form 
was  all  that  remained  of  the  fiery,  the  haughty,  the  wild,  but 
the  generous  Altamont  de  Pentonville  !     Such,  such  is  fate  ! 

The  admirable  Emily  de  Pentonville  trembled  with  all  a 
mother's  solicitude  at  the  distinct'ons  and  honors  which  thus 
suddenly  descended  on  her  boy.  She  engaged  an  excellent 
clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England  to  superintend  his  studies  ; 
to  accompany  him  on  foreign  travel  when  the  proper  season 
arrived  ;  to  ward  from  him  those  dangers  which  dissipation 
always  throws  in  the  way  of  the  noble,  the  idle,  and  the  wealthy. 
But  the  Reverend  Cyril  Delaval  died  of  the  measles  at  Naples, 
and  henceforth  the  young  Earl  of  Bagnigge  was  without  a 
guardian. 

What  was  the  consequence  ?  That,  at  three-and-twenty,  he 
was  a  cynic  and  an  epicure.  He  had  drained  the  cup  of 
pleasure  till  it  had  palled  in  his  unnerved  hand.  He  had  looked 
at  the  Pyramids  without  awe,  at  the  Alps  without  reverence. 
He  was  unmoved  by  the  sandy  solitudes  of  the  Desert  as  by 
the  placid  depths  of  Mediterranean's  sea  of  blue.  Bitter,  bitter 
tears  did  Emily  de  Pentonville  weep,  when,  on  Alured's  return 
from  the  Continent,  she  beheld  the  awful  change  that  dissipation 
had  wrought  in  her  beautiful,  her  blue-eyed,  her  perverted,  her 
still  beloved  boy  ! 

"  Corpo  di  Bacco,"  he  said,  pitching  the  end  of  his  cigar 
on  to  the  red  nose  of  the  Countess  of  Delawaddymore's  coach- 
man— who,  having  deposited  her  fat  ladyship  at  No.  236  Pic- 
cadilly, was  driving  the  carriage  to  the  stables,  before  com- 
mencing his  evening  at  the  "  Fortune  of  War  "  public-house— 
"  what  a  lovely  creature  that  was  !  What  eyes  !  what  hair ! 
Who  knows  her  "i     Do  you,  mon  cher  prince  ?  " 

"  E  bellissima,  certamente,"  said  the  Duca  de  Montepulci- 
ano,  and  stroked  down  his  jetty  mustache. 

"  Ein  gar  schones  Miidchen,"  said  the  Hereditary  Grand 
Duke  of  Eulenschreckenstein,  and  turned  up  his  carroty  one. 

"  EUe  n'est  pas  mal,  ma  foi !  "  said  the  Prince  de  Borodino, 


56  ^O  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 

with  a  scowl  on  his  darkling  brows.  "  Mon  Dieu,  que  ces 
cigarres  sont  mauvais  !  "  he  added,  as  he  too  cast  away  his 
Cuba. 

"  Try  one  of  my  Pickwicks,"  said  Franklin  Fox,  with  a 
sneer,  offering  his  gold  /////  to  the  young  Frenchman  ;  "  they 
are  some  of  Pontet's  best,  prince.  What,  do  you  bear  malice  ? 
Come,  let  us  be  friends,"  said  the  gay  and  careless  young 
patrician  ;  but  a  scowl  on  the  part  of  the  Frenchman  was  the 
only  reply. 

— "  Want  to  know  who  she  is  ?  Borodino  knows  who  she  is, 
Bagnigge,"  the  wag  went  on. 

Everybody  crowded  round  Monsieur  de  Borodino  thus 
apostrophized.  The  Marquis  of  Alicompayne,  young  De  Boots 
of  the  Life-guards,  Tom  Protocol  of  the  Foreign  Office  ;  the 
gay  young  Peers,  Farintosh,  Poldoody,  and  the  rest;  and 
Bagnigge,  for  a  wonder,  not  less  eager  than  any  one  present. 

"  No,  he  will  tell  you  nothing  about  her.  Don't  you  see  he 
has  gone  off  in  a  fury  !  "  Franklin  Fox  continued.  "  He  has 
his  reasons,  ce  cher  prince  :  he  will  tell  you  nothing ;  but  I 
win.  You  know  that  I  am  au  mieux  with  the  dear  old  duchess." 

"  They  say  Frank  and  she  are  engaged  after  the  duke's 
death,"  cried  Poldoody. 

"  I  always  thought  Fwank  was  the  duke's  illicit  gweat- 
gwandson,"  drawled  out  De  Boots. 

"I  heard  that  he  doctored  her  Blenheim,  and  used  to  bring 
her  wigs  from  Paris,"  cried  that  malicious  Tom  Protocol,  whose 
mots  are  known  in  every  diplomatic  salon  from  Petersburg  to 
Palermo. 

"  ]3urn  her  wigs,  and  hang  her  poodle  !  "  said  Bagnigge. 
"  Tell  me  about  this  girl,  Franklin  Fox." 

"  In  the  first  place,  she  has  five  hundred  thousand  acres,  in 
a  ring  fence,  in  Norfolk  ;  a  county  in  Scotland,  a  castle  in 
Wales,  a  villa  at  Richmond,  a  corner  house  in  Belgrave  Square, 
and  eighty  thousand  a  year  in  the  three-per-cents." 

"  Apres  .'' "  said  Bagnigge,  still  yawning. 

"  Secondly,  Borodino  lui  fait  la  cour.  They  are  cousins, 
her  mother  was  an  Armagnac  of  the  emigration ;  the  old 
Marshal,  his  father,  married  another  sister.  I  believe  he  was 
footman  in  the  family,  before  Napoleon  princified  him." 

"  No,  no,  he  was  second  coachman,"  Tom  Protocol  good' 
naturedly  interposed — "  a  cavalry  officer,  Frank,  not  an  infantry 
man." 

"  'Faith  you  should  have  seen  his  fury  (the  young  one's,  1 
mean)  when  he  found  me  in  the  duchess's  room  this  evening, 


LORDS  AND  LIVERIES.  5^ 

tete-a-tete  with  the  heiress,  who  deigned  to  accept  a  boiiqUet 
from  this  hand." 

"It  cost  me  three  guineas,"  poor  Frank  said,  with  a  shrug 
and  a  sigh,  -'  and  that  Covent  Garden  scoundrel  gives  no  credit ; 
but  she  took  the  flowers  ; — eh,  Bagnigge  ?  " 

"  And  flung  them  to  Alboni,"  the  Peer  replied,  with  a  haughty 
sneer.  And  poor  little  Franklin  Fox  was  compelled  to  own 
that  she  had. 

The  maltre  d' hotel  here  announced  that  supper  was  served. 
It  was  remarked  that  even  the  coidis  de  dindonncau  made  no 
impression  on  Bagnigge  that  night. 


II. 

The  sensation  produced  by  the  dchut  of  Amethyst  Pimlico 
at  the  court  of  the  sovereign,  and  in  the  salons  of  the  bemi  monde, 
was  such  as  has  seldom  been  created  by  the  appearance  of  any 
other  beauty.  The  men  were  raving  with  love,  and  the  women 
with  jealousy.  Her  eyes,  her  beauty,  her  wit,  her  grace,  her 
to7i,  caused  a  perfect  furcur  of  admiration  or  envy. 

Introduced  by  the  Duchess  of  Fitzbattleaxe,  along  with  her 
Grace's  daughters,  the  Ladies  Gwendoline  and  Gwinever  Port- 
cullis, the  heiress's  regal  beauty  quite  flung  her  cousins'  simple 
charms  into  the  shade,  and  blazed  with  a  splendor  which  caused 
all  "  minor  lights  "  to  twinkle  faintly.  Before  a  day  the  beau 
monde,  before  a  week  even  the  vulgarians  of  the  rest  of  the 
town,  rang  with  the  fame  of  her  charms  ;  and  while  the  dandies 
and  the  beauties  were  raving  about  her,  or  tearing  her  to  pieces 
in  May  Fair,  even  Mrs.  Dobbs  (who  had  been  to  the  pit  of 
the  "  Hoperer "  in  a  green  turban  and  a  crumpled  yellow 
satin)  talked  about  the  great  hairess  to  her  D.  in  Bloomsbury 
Square. 

Crowds  went  to  Squab  and  Lynch's,  in  Long  Acre,  to  ex- 
amine the  carriages  building  for  her,  so  faultless,  so  splendid, 
so  quiet,  so  odiously  unostentatious  and  provokingly  simple  ! 
Besides  the  ancestral  services  of  argenterie  and  vaisselle  plate, 
contained  in  a  hundred  and  seventy-six  plate  chests  at  Messrs. 
Childs',  Rumble  and  Briggs  prepared  a  gold  service,  and 
Garraway,  of  the  Haymarket,  a  service  of  the  Benvenuto  Cellini 
pattern,  which  were  the  admiration  of  all  London.  Before  a 
month  it  is  a  fact  that  the  wretched  haberdashers  in  the  City 
exhibited  the  blue  stocks,  called  "  Heiress-killers,  very  chaste 


gg  NO  VELS  B  Y  EMIATENT  HAN-DS. 

frwo-and-six  :  "  long  before  that  the  monde  had  rushed  to  Madame 
CrinoUne's,  or  sent  couriers  to  Madame  IVIarabou,  at  Paris,  so 
as  to  have  copies  of  her  dresses ;  but,  as  the  Mantuan  bard 
observes,  "  Non  cuivis  contigit,"  —  every  foot  cannot  accom- 
modate itself  to  the  chatissure  of  Cinderella. 

With  all  this  splendor,  this  worship,  this  beauty ;  with  these  ' 
cheers  following  her,  and  these  crowds  at  her  feet,  was  Ame- 
thyst happy  ?  Ah,  no  !  It  is  not  under  the  necklace  the  most 
brilliant  that  Briggs  and  Rumble  can  supply,  it  is  not  in  Lynch's 
best  cushioned  chariot  that  the  heart  is  most  at  ease.  "  Que 
je  me  ruinerai,"  says  Fronsac  in  a  letter  to  Bossuet,  "  si  je 
savais  ou  acheter  le  bonheur !  " 

With  all  her  riches,  with  all  her  splendor.  Amethyst  was 
wretched — wretched,  because  lonely ;  wretched,  because  her 
loving  heart  had  nothing  to  cling  to.  Her  splendid  mansion 
was  a  convent ;  no  male  person  ever  entered  it,  except  Franklin 
Fox  (who  counted  for  nothing),  and  the  duchess's  family,  her 
kinsman  old  Lord  Humpington,  his  friend  old  Sir  John  Fogey, 
and  her  cousin,  the  odious,  odious  Borodino. 

The  Prince  de  Borodino  declared  openly  that  Amethyst  was 
engaged  to  him.  Cribl'e  de  dettes,  it  is  no  wonder  that  he  should 
choose  such  an  opportunity  to  refaire  sa  fortune.  He  gave  out 
that  he  would  kill  any  man  who  should  cast  an  eye  on  the 
heiress,  and  the  monster  kept  his  word.  Major  Grigg,  of  the 
Lifeguards,  had  already  fallen  by  his  hand  at  Ostend.  The 
O'Toole,  who  had  met  her  on  the  Rhine,  had  received  a  ball 
in  his  shoulder  at  Coblentz,  and  did  not  care  to  resume  so 
dangerous  a  courtship.  Borodino  could  snuff  a  bougie  at  a 
hundred  and  fifty  yards.  He  could  beat  Bertrand  or  Alexander 
Dumas  himself  with  the  small-sword  :  he  was  the  dragon  that 
watched  this  p07nme  d'or,  and  very  few  persons  were  now 
inclined  to  face  a  champion  si  redoutabk. 

Over  a  sahtii  d^escargot  at  the  "  Coventry,"  the  dandies 
whom  we  introduced  in  our  last  volume  were  assembled  there 
talking  of  the  heiress  ;  and  her  story  was  told  by  Franklin  Fox 
to  Lord  Bagnigge,  who,  for  a  wonder,  was  interested  in  the 
tale,  Borodino's  pretensions  were  discussed,  and  the  way  in 
which  the  fair  Amethyst  was  confined,  Fitzbattleaxe  House, 
in  Belgrave  Square,  is — as  ever^'body  knows — the  next  man- 
sion to  that  occupied  by  Amethyst,  A  communication  was 
made  between  the  two  houses.  She  never  went  out  except 
accompanied  by  the  duchess's  guard,  which  it  was  impossible 
to  overcome, 

"  Impossible  !     Nothing's  impossible,"  said  Lord  Bagnigge. 


LORDS  AND  LIVERIES. 


59 


"  I  bet  you  what  you  like  you  don't  get  in,"  said  the  young 
Marquis  of  Martingale. 

"  I  bet  you  a  thousand  ponies  I  stop  a  week  in  the  heiress's 
house  before  the  season's  over,"  Lord  Bagnigge  replied  with  a 
yawn ;  and  the  bet  was  registered  with  shouts  of  applause. 

But  it  seemed  as  if  the  Fates  had  determined  against  Lord 
Bagnigge,  for  the  very  next  day,  riding  in  the  Park,  his  horse 
fell  with  him  ;  he  was  carried  home  to  his  house  with  a  frac- 
tured limb  and  a  dislocated  shoulder  ;  and  the  doctor's  bul- 
letins pronounced  him  to  be  in  the  most  dangerous  state. 

Martingale  was  a  married  man,  and  there  was  no  danger  of 
his  riding  by  the  Fitzbattleaxe  carriage.  A  fortnight  after  the 
above  events,  his  lordship  was  prancing  by  her  Grace's  great 
family  coach,  and  chattering  with  Lady  Gwinever  about  the 
strange  wager. 

"  Do  you  know  what  a  pony  is.  Lady  Gwinever  ?  "  he  asked. 
Her  ladyship  said  yes  :  she  had  a  cream-colored  one  at  Castle 
Barbican  ;  and  stared  when  Lord  Martingale  announced  that 
he  should  soon  have  a  thousand  ponies,  worth  five-and-twenty 
pounds  each,  which  were  all  now  kept  at  Coutt's.  Then  he 
explained  the  circumstances  of  the  bet  with  Bagnigge.  Parlia- 
ment was  to  adjourn  in  ten  days  ;  the  season  would  be  over! 
Bagnigge  was  lying  ill  chez  lui ;  and  the  five-and-twenty  thou- 
sand were  irrecoverably  his.  And  he  vowed  he  would  buy 
Lord  Binnacle's  yacht — crew,  captain,  guns  and  all. 

On  returning  home  that  night  from  Lady  Polkimore's,  Mar- 
tingale found  among  the  many  billets  upon  the  gold  plateau  in 
his  anti-chambre  the  following  brief  one,  which  made  him 
start : — 

*'  Dear  Martingale. — Don't  be  too  sure  of  Binnacle's 
yacht.  There  are  still  ten  days  before  the  season  is  over ;  and 
my  ponies  may  lie  at  Coutts's  for  some  time  to  come. 

"  Yours, 

"  Bagnigge. 

"  P.  S. — I  write  with  my  left  hand  ;  for  my  right  is  still 
splintered  up  from  that  confounded  fall." 


gQ  ^O  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 


Ill, 

The  tall  footman,  number  four,  who  had  come  in  the  place 
of  John,  cashiered,  (for  want  of  proper  moUets,  and  because  his 
hair  did  not  take  powder  well,)  had  given  great  satisfaction  to 
the  under-butler,  who  reported  well  of  him  to  his  chief,  who 
had  mentioned  his  name  with  praise  to  the  house-steward. 
He  was  so  good-looking  and  well-spoken  a  young  man,  that  the 
ladies  in  the  housekeeper's  room  deigned  to  notice  him  more 
than  once  ;  nor  was  his  popularity  diminished  on  account  of  a 
quarrel  in  which  he  engaged  with  Monsieur  Anatole,  the  enor- 
mous Walloon  chasseur,  who  was  one  day  found  embracing 
Miss  Flouncy,  who  waited  on  Amethyst's  own  maid.  The 
very  instant  Miss  Flouncy  saw  Mr.  Jeames  entering  the  Ser- 
vants' Hall,  where  Monsieur  Anatole  was  engaged  in  "  aggra- 
vating "  her,  Miss  Flouncy  screamed :  at  the  next  moment  the 
Belgian  giant  lay  sprawling  upon  the  carpet;  and  Jeames, 
standing  over  him,  assumed  so  terrible  a  look,  that  the  chasseur 
declined  any  further  combat.  The  victory  was  made  known  to 
the  house-steward  himself,  who,  being  a  little  partial  to  Miss 
Flouncy  herself,  complimented  Jeames  on  his  valor,  and  poured 
out  a  glass  of  Madeira  in  his  own  room. 

Who  was  Jeames  ?  He  had  come  recommended  by  the 
Bagnigge  people.  He  had  lived,  he  said,  in  that  family  two 
years.  "  But  where  there  was  no  ladies,"  he  said,  "  a  gentle- 
man's hand  was  spiled  for  service  ; "  and  Jeames's  was  a  very 
delicate  hand  ;  Miss  Flouncy  admired  it  very  much,  and  of 
course  he  did  not  defile  it  by  menial  service  :  he  had  in  a  young 
man  who  called  him  sir,  and  did  all  the  coarse  work  ;  and 
Jeames  read  the  morning  paper  to  the  ladies ;  not  spellingly 
and  with  hesitation,  as  many  gentlemen  do,  but  easily  and  ele- 
gantly, speaking  off  the  longest  words  without  a  moment's  diffi- 
culty. He  could  speak  French,  too,  Miss  Flouncy  found,  who 
was  studying  it  under  Mademoiselle  Gra?ide fiUe-de-chamhre  de 
confiance;  for  when  she  said  to  him,  "  Polly  voo  Fransy,  Mun- 
seer  Jeames?"  he  replied  readily,  "We,  Mademaselle,  j'ay 
passay  boco  de  tong  ^  Parry.  Commong  voo  potty  voo  ?  " 
How  Miss  Flouncy  admired  him  as  he  stood  before  her,  the 
day  after  he  had  saved  Miss  Amethyst  when  the  horses  had 
run  away  with  her  in  the  Park  ! 

Poor  Flouncy,  poor  Flouncy  !  Jeames  had  been  but  a  week 
in  Amethyst's  service,  and  already  the  gentle  heart  of  the  wash- 

V 


LORDS  AJVD  LIVERIES.  6 1 

ing-girl  was  irrecoverably  gone  !  Poor  Flouncy !  poor  Flouncy ! 
he  thought  not  of  thee. 

It  happened  thus.  Miss  Amethyst  being  engaged  to  drive 
with  her  cousin  the  prince  in  his  phaeton,  her  own  carriage  was 
sent  into  the  Park  simply  with  her  companion,  who  had  charge 
of  her  Httle  Fido,  the  dearest  little  spaniel  in  the  world. 
Jeames  and  Frederick  were  behind  the  carriage  with  their  long 
sticks  and  neat  dark  liveries  ;  the  horses  were  worth  a  thousand 
guineas  each,  the  coachman  a  late  lieutenant-colonel  of  cav- 
alry :  the  whole  ring  could  not  boast  a  more  elegant  turn-out. 

The  prince  drove  his  curricle,  and  had  charge  of  his  belle 
cousine.  It  may  have  been  the  red  fezzes  in  the  carriage  of  the 
Turkish  ambassador  which  frightened  the  prince's  grays,  or 
Mrs.  Champignon's  new  yellow  liveries,  which  were  flaunting  in 
the  Park,  or  hideous  Lady  Gorgon's  preternatural  ugliness, 
who  passed  in  a  low  pony-carriage  at  the  time,  or  the  prince's 
own  want  of  skill,  finally ;  but  certain  it  is  that  the  horses  took 
fright,  dashed  wildly  along  the  mile,  scattered  equipages, ////ti/zj-, 
dandies'  cabs,  and  snobs'  pheaytons.  Amethyst  was  screaming  ; 
and  the  prince,  deadly  pale,  had  lost  all  presence  of  mind,  as 
the  curricle  came  rushing  by  the  sjDot  where  Miss  Amethyst's 
carriage  stood. 

*'  I'm  blest,"  Frederick  exclaimed  to  his  companion,  "  if  it 
ain't  the  prince  a-drivin  our  missis  !  They'll  be  in  the  Serping- 
tine,  or  dashed  to  pieces,  if  they  don't  mind."  And  the  run- 
away steeds  at  this  instant  came  upon  them  as  a  whirlwind. 

But  if  those  steeds  ran  at  a  whirlwind  pace,  Jeames  was 
swifter.  To  jump  from  behind,  to  bound  after  the  rocking, 
reeling  curricle,  to  jump  into  it  aided  by  the  long  stick  which 
he  carried  and  used  as  a  leaping-pole,  and  to  seize  the  reins 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  miserable  Borodino,  who  shrieked 
piteously  as  the  dauntless  valet  leapt  on  his  toes  and  into  his 
seat,  was  the  work  of  an  instant.  In  a  few  minutes  the  mad, 
swaying  rush  of  the  horses  was  reduced  to  a  swift  but  steady 
gallop  ;  presently  into  a  canter,  then  a  trot ;  until  finally  they 
pulled  up  smoking  and  trembling,  but  quite  quiet,  by  the  side 
of  Amethyst's  carriage,  which  came  up  at  a  rapid  pace. 

"  Give  me  the  reins,  malappris !  tu  m'ecrases  le  corps, 
manant !  "  yelled  the  frantic  nobleman,  writhing  underneath 
the  intrepid  charioteer. 

"  Tant  pis  pour  toi,  nigaud,"  was  the  reply.  The  lovely 
Amethyst  of  course  had  fainted  ;  but  she  recovered  as  she  was 
placed  in  her  carriage,  and  rewarded  her  preserver  with  a  ce- 
lestial smile. 


52  XO  VKLS  B  V  EMINENT  HA  NDS. 

The  rage,  the  fury,  the  maledictions  of  Borodino,  as  he  saw 
the  latter — a  liveried  menial — stoop  gracefully  forward  and  kiss 
Amethyst's  hand,  may  be  imagined  rather  than  described.  But 
Jeames  heeded  not  his  curses.  Having  placed  his  adored  mis- 
tress in  the  carriage,  he  calmly  resumed  his  station  behind. 
Passion  or  danger  seemed  to  have  no  impression  upon  that 
pale  marble  face, 

Borodino  went  home  furious  ;  nor  was  his  rage  diminished, 
when,  on  coming  to  dinner  that  day,  a  recherche  banquet  served 
in  the  Frangipafie  best  style,  and  requesting  a  supply  of  a  purci 
a  hi  bisque  aux  ecrevisses,  the  clumsy  attendant  who  served  him 
let  fall  the  assiette  of  vcrJtieille  cisele,  with  its  scalding  contents, 
over  the  prince's  chin,  his  Mechlin  yVz^c?/,  and  the  grand  cordon 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor  which  he  wore. 

"  Infame,"  howled  Borodino,  "  tu  Tas  fait  expres  !  " 
'      "  Oui,  je  I'ai  fait  expres,"  said  the  man,  with  the  most  per- 
fect Parisian  accent.     It  was  Jeames. 

Such  insolence  of  course  could  not  be  passed  unnoticed 
even  after  the  morning's  service,  and  he  was  chasscd  on  the 
spot.     He  had  been  but  a  week  in  the  house. 

The  next  month  the  newspapers  contained  a  paragraph 
which  may  possibly  elucidate  the  above  mystery,  and  to  the 
following  effect : — 

"  Singular  Wager. — One  night,  at  the  end  of  last  season, 
the  young  and  eccentric  Earl  of  B-gn-gge  laid  a  wager  of 
twenty-five  thousand  pounds  with  a  broken  sporting  patrician, 
the  dashing  Marquis  of  M-rt-ng-le,  that  he  would  pass  a  week 
under  the  roof  of  a  celebrated  and  lovely  young  heiress,  who 
lives  not  a  hundred  miles  from  B-lgr-ve  Squ-re.  The  bet  hav- 
ing been  made,  the  earl  pretended  an  illness,  and  having  taken 
lessons  from  one  of  his  lordship's  own  footmen  (Mr.  James 
Plush,  whose  name  he  also  borrowed)  in  '  the  mysteries  of  the 
profcssio?!,'  actually  succeeded  in  making  an  entry  into  Miss 
P-ml-co's  mansion,  where  he  stopped  one  week  exactly  ;  having 
time  to  win  his  bet,  and  to  save  the  life  of  the  lady,  whom  we 
hear  he  is  about  to  lead  to  the  altar.  He  disarmed  the  Prince 
of  Borodino  in  a  duel  fought  on  Calais  sands — and,  it  is  said, 

appeared  at  the  C club  wearing  his  plush  costume  under  a 

cloak,  and  displaying  it  as  a  proof  that  he  had  won  his  wager." 
Such,  indeed,  were  the  circumstances.  The  young  couple 
have  not  more  than  nine  hundred  thousand  a  year,  but  they 
live  cheerfully,  and  manage  to  do  good ;  and  Emily  de  Ponton- 
ville,  who  adores  her  daughter-in-law  and  her  little  grand- 
children, is  blest  in  seeing  her  darling  son  enfn  tin  hom?ne  range. 


CRINOLINE. 

By    Je-mes    Pl-sh,    Esq. 


I. 

I'm  not  at  libbaty  to  divulj  the  reel  names  of  the  2  Eroes  of 
the  igstrawny  Tail  which  I  am  abowt  to  relait  to  those  un 
lightnd  paytrons  of  letarature  and  true  connyshures  of  merrit 
— the  great  Brittish  public — But  I  pledj  my  varacity  that  this 
singlar  story  of  rewmantic  love,  absobbing  pashn,  and  likewise 
of  genteel  life,  is,  in  the  main  fax,  trew.  The  suckmstanzas  I 
elude  to,  ocurd  in  the  rain  of  our  presnt  Gratious  Madjisty 
and  her  beluvd  and  roil  Concert  Prince  Halbert. 

Welthen.  Some  time  in  the  seazen  of  18 —  (mor  I  dar  not 
rewheel)  there  arrived  in  this  metropulus,  per  seknd  class  of 
the  London  and  Dover  Railway,  an  ellygant  young  foring  gen- 
tleman, whom  I  shall  danomminate  Munseer  Jools  De  Chac- 
abac. 

Having  read  through  "  The  Vicker  of  Wackfield  "  in  the 
same  oridganal  English  tung  in  which  this  very  harticle  I  write 
is  wrote  too,  and  halways  been  remarkyble,  both  at  collidge  and 
in  the  estamminy,  for  his  aylred  and  orror  of  perfidgus  Halbion, 
Munseer  Jools  was  considered  by  the  prapriretors  of  the  news- 
paper in  which  he  wrote,  at  Parris,  the  very  man  to  come  to 
this  country,  igsamin  its  manners  and  customs,  cast  an  i  upon 
the  politticle  and  finanshle  stat  of  the  Hempire,  and  igspose 
the  mackynations  of  the  infymous  Palmerston,  and  the  ebom- 
minable  Sir  Pill — both  enemies  of  France ;  as  is  every  other 
Britten  of  that  great,  gloarus,  libberal,  and  peasable  country. 
In  one  word,  Jools  de  Chacabac  was  a  penny-a-liner. 

"  I  will  go  see  with  my  own  I's,"  he  Siid,  "that  infimus 
hiland  of  which  the  innabitants  are  shopkeepers,  gorged  with 

C63) 


g^  NO  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 

roast  boef  and  treason.  I  will  go  and  see  the  murderers  cH 
the  Hirish,  the  pisoners  of  the  Chynese,  the  villians  who  put 
the  Hemperor  to  death  in  Saintyleany,  the  artful  dodges  who 
wish  to  smother  Europe  with  their  cotton,  and  can't  sleep  or 
rest  heasy  for  henvy  and  hatred  of  the  great  inwinsable  French 
nation.  I  will  igsammin,  face  to  face,  these  hotty  insularies  ;  I 
will  pennytrate  into  the  secrets  of  their  Jessywhittickle  cabi- 
net, and  beard  Palmerston  in  his  denn."  When  he  junipt  on 
shor  at  Foaxton  (after  having  been  tremenguously  sick  in  the 
four-cabbing),  he  exclaimed,  "  Enfin  J6  te  tiens,  He  maudite  ! 
je  te  crache  a  la  figure,  vieille  Angleterre  !  Je  te  foule  a  mes 
pieds  au  nom  du  monde  outrage',"  and  so  proseaded  to  inwade 
the  metropulus. 

As  he  whisht  to  micks  with  the  veiy  chicest  sosiaty,  and 
git  the  best  of  infamation  about  this  country,  Tvlunseer  Jools  of 
coarse  went  and  lodgd  in  Lester  Square — Lester  Squarr,  as  he 
calls  it — which,  as  he  was  infommed  in  the  printed  suckular 
presented  to  him  by  a  very  greasy  but  polite  comishner  at  the 
Custumus  Stares,  was  in  the  scenter  of  the  town,  contiggus  to 
the  Ouses  of  Parlyment,  the  prinsple  theayters,  the  parx,  St. 
Jams  Pallice,  and  the  Corts  of  Lor.  "  I  can  surwhey  them  all 
at  one  cut  of  the  eye,"  Jools  thought ;  "  the  Sovring,  the  in- 
famus  Ministers  plotting  the  destruction  of  my  immortial  coun- 
try ;  the  business  and  pleasure  of  these  pusproud  Londoners 
and  aristoxy  ;  I  can  look  round  and  see  all."  So  he  took  a 
three-pair  back  in  a  French  hotel,  the  "  Hotel  de  I'Ail,  kep  by 
Monsieur  Gigotot,  Cranbourne  Street,  Lester  Squarr,  London. 

In  this  otell  there's  a  billiard-room  on  the  first  floor,  and  a 
tabble-doat  at  eighteenpence  per  edd  at  5  o'clock  ;  and  the  land- 
lord, who  kem  into  Jools's  room  smoaking  a  segar,  told  the 
young  gent  that  the  house  was  friquented  by  all  the  Brittish 
nobillaty,  who  reglar  took  their  dinners  there.  "  They  can't 
ebide  their  own  quiseett"  he  said.  "  You'll  see  what  a  dinner 
we'll  serve  you  to-day."     Jools  wrote  off  to  his  paper — 

"  The  members  of  the  haughty  and  luxurious  English  aris- 
tocracy, like  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  are  obliged  to  fly  to  France 
for  the  indulgence  of  their  luxuries.  The  nobles  of  England, 
quitting  their  homes,  their  wives,  miladies  and  mistriss,  so^  fair 
but  so  cold,  dine  universally  at  the  tavern.  That  from  which  I 
write  is  frequented  by  Peel  and  Palmerston.  I  fremis  to  thmk 
that  I  may  meet  them  at  the  board  to-day." 

Singlar  to  say.  Peel  and  Palmerston  didn't  dine  at  the 
"  Hotel  de  I'Ail "  on  that  evening.  "  It's  quite  igstronnary 
they  don't  come,"  said  Munseer  de  I'Ail 


CRINOLINE.  6^ 

**  Peraps  they're  ingaged  at  some  boxing-match,  or  some 
(ombaw  de  cock,''  Munseer  Jools  sejested ;  and  the  landlord 
agreed  that  was  very  likely. 

Instedd  of  English  there  was,  however,  plenty  of  foring 
sociaty,  of  every  nation  under  the  sun.  Most  of  the  noble- 
men were  g'/eat  hamatures  of  hale  and  porter.  The  table-cloth 
was  marked  over  with  brown  suckles,  made  by  the  pewter-pots 
on  that  and  the  previous  days. 

"  It  is  the  usage  here,"  wrote  Jools  to  his  newspaper, 
"  among  the  Anglais  of  the  fashonne  to  absorb  immense  quan- 
tities of  ale  and  porter  during  their  meals.  These  stupefying, 
but  cheap,  and  not  unpalatable  liquors  are  served  in  shining 
pewter  vessels.  A  mug  of  foaming  hafanaf  {%o  a  certain  sort 
or  beer  is  called)  was  placed  by  the  side  of  most  of  the  con- 
vives. I  was  disappointed  of  seeing  Sir  Peel :  he  was  engaged 
to  a  combat  of  cocks  which  occurs  at  Windsor." 

Not  one  word  of  English  was  spoke  during  this  dinner, 
excep  when  the  gentlemen  said  "  Garsong  de  rafanaf"  but 
Jool  was  very  much  pleased  to  meet  the  eleef  of  the  foringers  in 
town,  and  ask  their  opinion  about  the  reel  state  of  thinx.  Was 
it  likely  that  the  bishops  were  to  be  turned  out  of  the  Chambre 
des  Communes  ?  Was  it  true  that  Lor  Palmerston  had  boxed 
with  Lor  Broghamm  in  the  House  of  Lords,  until  they  were 
sepparayted  by  the  Lor  Maire  ?  Who  was  the  Lor  Maire  ? 
Wasn't  he  Premier  Minister  ?  and  wasn't  the  Archeveque  de 
Cantorbery  a  Quaker?  He  got  answers  to  these  questions 
from  the  various  gents  round  about  during  the  dinner — -which, 
he  remarked,  was  very  much  like  a  French  dinner,  only  dirtier. 
And  he  wrote  off  all  the  infamation  he  got  to  his  newspaper. 

"  The  Lord  Maire,  Lord  Lansdowne,  is  Premier  Ministre. 
His  Grace  has  his  dwelling  in  the  City.  The  Archbishop  of 
Cantabery  is  not  turned  Quaker,  as  some  people  stated.  Qua- 
kers may  not  marry,  nor  sit  in  the  Chamber  of  Peers.  The 
minor  bishops  have  seats  in  the  House  of  Commons,  where 
they  are  attacked  by  the  bitter  pleasantries  of  Lord  Brougham. 
A  boxer  is  in  the  House  ;  he  taught  Palmerston  the  science  of 
the  pugilate,  who  conferred  upon  him  the  seat,"  &:c.,  &c. 

His  writing  hover,  Jools  came  down  and  ad  a  gaym  at  pool 
with  two  Poles,  a  Bulgian,  and  2  of  his  own  countrymen.  This 
being  done  amidst  more  hafanaf,  without  which  nothink  is  done 
in  England,  and  as  there  was  no  French  play  that  night,  he  & 
the  two  French  gents  walked  round  and  round  Lester  Squarr 
smoking  segaws  in  the  faces  of  other  French  gents  who  were 
smoaking  2.    And  they  talked  about  the  granjer  of  France  and 


66  NO  VELS  B  V  EMINENT  HANDS. 

the  perfidgusness  of  England,  and  looked  at  the  aluminated 
pictur  of  Madame  Wharton  as  Haryadney,  till  bedtime.  But 
befor  he  slep,  he  finished  his  letter  you  may  be  sure,  and  called 
it  his  "  Fust  Imprestiuns  of  Anglyterre." 

"Mind  and  wake  me  early,"  he  said  to  Boots,  the  ony 
Brittish  subject  in  the  "  Hotel  de  I'Ail,"  and  who  therefore 
didn't  understand  him.  "  I  wish  to  be  at  Smithfield  at  6  hours 
to  see  the  men  sell  their  wives."  And  the  young  roag  fell 
asleep,  thinking  what  sort  of  a  one  he'd  buy. 

This  was  the  way  Jools  passed  his  days,  and  got  infamation 
about  Hengland  and  the  Henglish — walking  round  and  round 
Lester  Squarr  all  day,  and  every  day  with  the  same  company, 
occasionally  dewussified  by  an  Oprer  Chorus-singer  or  a  Jew  or 
two,  and  every  afternoon  in  the  Quadrant  admiring  the  genteal 
sosiaty  there.  Munseer  Jools  was  not  over  well  funnisht  with 
pocket-money,  and  so  his  pleasure  was  of  the  gratis  sort 
cheafly. 

Well,  one  day  as  he  and  a  friend  was  taking  their  turn 
among  the  aristoxy  under  the  Quadrant — they  were  struck  all 
of  a  heap  by  seeing — But,  stop  !  who  was  Jools's  friend  ?  Here 
you  have  pictures  of  both — but  the  Istory  of  Jools's  friend 
must  be  kep  for  another  innings. 


11. 

Not  fur  from  that  knowble  and  cheerfle  Squear  which  Mun- 
seer Jools  de  Chacabac  had  selacted  for  his  eboad  in  London 
— not  fur,  I  say,  from  Lester  Squarr,  is  a  rainje  of  bildings 
called  Pipping's  Buildings,  leading  to  Blue  Lion  Court,  leading 
to  St.  Martin's  Lane.  You  know  Pipping's  Buildings  by  its 
greatest  ornament,  an  am  and  beefouce  (where  Jools  has  often 
stood  admiring  the  degstaraty  of  the  carver  a-cuttin  the  varous 
jints),  and  by  the  little  fishmungur's,  where  you  remark  the 
mouldy  lobsters,  the  fly-blown  picklesammon,  the  playbills,  and 
the  gingybear  bottles  in  the  window — above  all,  by  the  "  Con- 
stantinople "  Divan,  kep  by  the  Misses  Mordeky,  and  well 
known  to  every  lover  of  "  a  prime  sigaw  and  an  exlent  cup  of 
reel  Moky  Coffy  for  6^/." 

The  Constantinople  Divann  is  greatly  used  by  the  foring 
gents  of  Lester  Squar.  I  never  ad  the  good  fortn  to  pass 
down  Pipping's  Buildings  without  seeing  a  haf  a  duzen  of  'em 
on  the  threshole  of  the  extablishment,  giving  the  street  an 


CRINOLINE.  6- 

oppertunity  of  testing  the  odar  of  the  Misses  Mordeky's  prime 
Avannas.  Two  or  three  mor  may  be  visable  inside,  settn  on 
the  counter  or  the  chestis,  indulging  in  their  fav'rit  whead,  the 
rich  and  spisy  Pickwhick,  tlie  ripe  Manilly,  or  the  flagrant  and 
arheumatic  Qby. 

"  These  Divanns  are,  as  is  very  well  known,  the  knightly 
resott  of  the  young  Henglish  nobillaty.  It  is  ear  a  young  Pier, 
after  an  arjus  day  at  the  House  of  Commons,  solazes  himself 
with  a  glas  of  gin-and-water  (the  national  beveridge),  with 
cheerful  conversation  on  the  ewents  of  the  day,  or  with  an  arm- 
less gaym  of  baggytell  in  the  back  parlor." 

So  wrote  at  least  our  friend  Jools  to  his  newspaper,  the 
Horriflam  ;  and  of  this  back  parlor  and  baggytell-bord,  of  this 
counter,  of  this  "  Constantinople  "  Divan,  he  became  almost 
as  reglar  a  frequenter  as  the  plaster  of  Parish  Turk  who  sits 
smoking  a  hookey  between  the  two  blue  coffee-cups  in  the 
winder. 

I  have  oftin,  smokin  my  own  shroot  in  silents  in  a  corner 
of  the  Diwann,  listened  to  Jools  and  his  friends  inwaying 
aginst  Hingland,  and  boastin  of  their  own  immortial  country. 
How  they  did  go  on  about  WelUntun,  and  what  an  arty  con- 
tamp  they  ad  for  him  ! — how  they  used  to  prove  that  France 
was  the  Light,  the  Scenter-pint,  the  Igsample  and  Hadmiration 
of  the  whole  world  !  And  though  I  scarcely  take  a  French 
paper  nowadays  (1  lived  in  early  days  as  groom  in  a  French 
famly  three  years,  and  therefore  knows  the  languidg),  though, 
I  say,  you  can't  take  up  Jools's  paper,  the  Orrifla77i,  without 
readin  that  a  minister  has  committed  bribery  and  perjury,  or 
that  a  littery  man  has  committed  perjury  and  murder,  or  that  a 
Duke  has  stabbed  his  wife  in  fifty  places,  or  some  story  equally 
horrible  ;  yet  for  all  that  it's  admiral  to  see  how  the  French 
gents  will  swagger — how  they  will  be  the  scenters  of  civiliza- 
tion— how  they  will  be  the  Igsamples  of  Europ,  and  nothink 
shall  prevent  'em — knowing  they  will  have  it,  I  say  I  listen, 
smokin  my  pip  in  silence.     But  to  our  tail. 

Reglar  every  evening  there  came  to  the  "  Constantanople  " 
a  young  gent  etired  in  the  igth  of  fashn  ;  and  indead  present- 
ing by  the  cleanlyness  of  his  appearants  and  linning  (which 
was  generally  a  pink  or  blew  shurt,  with  a  cricketer  or  a  dan- 
suse  pattern)  rather  a  contrast  to  the  dinjy  and  wistkcard 
sosiaty  of  the  Diwann.  As  for  wiskars,  this  young  mann  had 
none  beyond  a  little  yallow  tought  to  his  chin,  which  you  woodn 
notas,  only  he  was  always  pulling  at  it.  His  statue  was  dimin- 
pative,  but  his  coschume  supubb,  for  he  had  the  tippiest  Jane 


68  NO  VKLS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 

boots,  the  ivoryheadest  canes,  the  most  gawjus  scarlick  Jon- 
ville  ties,  and  the  most  Scotch  plaidest  trowseys,  of  any  cus- 
tomer of  that  establishment.     He  was  uniyusaly  called  Milord, 

"Qui  est  ^e  jeune  seigneur?  Who  is  this  young  hurl  who 
comes  knightly  to  the  "  Constantanople,"  who  is  so  proddigl  of 
his  gold  (for  indeed  the  young  gent  would  frequinly  propoase 
gininwater  to  the  company),  and  who  drinks  so  much  gin  ? " 
asked  Munseer  Chacabac  of  a  friend  from  the  "  Hotel  de 
I'AiL" 

"  His  name  is  Lord  Yardham,"  answered  that  friend.  "  He 
never  comes  here  but  at  night — and  why  .?  " 

"  Y .''  "  igsclaimed  Jools,  istonisht. 

"  Why  ?  because  he  is  engaygd  all  day — and  do  you  know 
where  he  is  engaygd  all  day  .-'  " 

"Where.?"  asked  Jools. 

"  At  the  Foring  Office  —  7101^  do  you  beginn  to  under- 
stand ?  " — Jools  trembled. 

He  speaks  of  his  uncle,  the  head  of  that  office. — "  Who  is 
the  head  of  that  offis  ? — Palmerston." 

"  The  nephew  of  Palmerston  !  "  said  Jools,  almost  in  a  fit. 

"Lor  Yardham  pretends  not  to  speak  French,"  the  other 
went  on,  "  He  pretends  he  can  only  say  wee  and  commofig 
party  voo.  Shallow  humbug ! — I  have  marked  him  during  our 
conversations, — When  we  have  spoken  of  the  glory  of  France 
among  the  nations,  I  have  seen  his  eye  kindle,  and  his  perfidi- 
ous lip  curl  with  rage.  When  they  have  discussed  before  him, 
the  Imprudents  !  the  affairs  of  Europe,  and  Raggybritchovich 
has  shown  us  the  next  Circassian  Campaign,  or  Sapousne  has 
laid  bare  the  plan  of  the  Calabrian  patriots  for  the  next  insur- 
rection, I  have  marked  this  stranger — this  Lor  Yardham,  He 
smokes,  'tis  to  conceal  his  countenance  ;  he  drinks  gin,  'tis  to 
hide  his  face  in  the  goblet.  And  be  sure,  he  carries  every 
word  of  our  conversation  to  the  perfidious  Palmerston,  his 
uncle." 

"  I  will  beard  him  in  his  den,"  thought  Jools.  "  I  will  meet 
him  corps-a-corps — the  tyrant  of  Europe  shall  suffer  through  his 
neiDhew,  and  I  will  shoot  him  as  dead  as  Dujarrier." 

When  Lor  Yardham  came  to  the  "  Constantanople  "  that 
night,  Jools  i'd  him  savidgely  from  edd  to  foot,  while  Lord 
Yardham  replied  the  same.  It  wasn't  much  for  either  to  do — • 
neyther  being  more  than  4  foot  ten  hi — Jools  was  a  grannydear 
in  his  company  of  the  Nashnal  Card,  and  was  as  brayv  as  a 
lion, 

"  Ah,  I'Angleterre,  I'Angleterre,  tu  nous  dois  une  revanche," 


CRIA'OLTNE.  gg 

said  Tools,  crossing  his  arms  and  grinding  his  teeth  at  Lord 
Vardliam. 

"Wee,"  said  Lord  Yardham  ;  "wee." 

"  Delenda  est  Carthago  !  "  howled  out  Jools. 

"  Oh,  wee,"  said  the  Erl  of  Yardham,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment his  glass  of  ginawater  coming  in,  he  took  a  drink,  saying, 
"A  voter  santy,  Munseer:  "  and  then  he  offered  it  like  a  man 
of  fashn  to  Jools. 

A  light  broak  on  Jools's  mind  as  he  igsepted  the  refreshmint. 
"  Sapoase,"  he  said,  "  instedd  of  slaughtering  this  nephew  of 
the  infamous  Palmerston,  I  extract  his  secrets  from  him  ;  sup- 
pose I  pump  him — suppose  I  unveil  his  schemes  and  send  them 
to  my  paper?  La  France  may  hear  the  name  of  Jools  de 
Chacabac,  and  the  star  of  honor  may  glitter  on  my  bosom." 

So,  axepting  Lord  Yardham's  cortasy,  he  returned  it  by 
ordering  another  glass  of  gin  at  his  own  expence,  and  they  both 
drank  it  on  the  counter,  where  Jools  talked  of  the  afifaers  of 
Europ  all  night.  To  everything  he  said,  the  Earl  of  Yardham 
answered,  "  Wee,  wee  ;  "  except  at  the  end  of  the  evening,  when 
he  squeeged  his  &  and  said,  "  Bong  swore." 

"  There's  nothing  like  goin  amongst  'em  to  cquire  the  reel 
pronounciation,"  his  lordship  said,  as  he  let  himself  into  his 
lodgings  with  his  latch-key.  "  That  was  a  very  eloquent  young 
gent  at  the  '  Constantinople,'  and  I'll  patronize  him." 

"  Ah,  perfide,  je  te  de'masquerai !  "  Jools  remarked  to  him- 
self as  he  went  to  bed  in  his  "  Hotel  del'Ail."  And  they  met 
the  next  night,  and  from  that  heavning  the  young  men  were  con- 
tinyually  together. 

Well,  one  day,  as  they  were  walking  in  the  Quadrant,  Jools 
talking,  and  Lord  Yardham  saying,  "  Wee,  wee,"  they  were 
struck  all  of  a  heap  by  seeing — ■ 

But  my  paper  is  igshosted,  and  I  must  dixcribe  what  they 
sor  in  the  nex  number. 


in. 

THE   CASTLE   OF   THE    ISLAND   OF    FOGG, 

The  travler  who  pesews  his  dalitefle  coarse  through  the  fair 
rellum  of  Franse  (as  a  great  romantic  landskippist  and  neam- 
sack  of  mind  would  say)  never  chaumed  his  i's  with  a  site  more 
lovely,  orvu'd  apallis  more  magnififiznt  than  that  which  was  the 


7° 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


buthplace  of  the  Eroing  of  this  Trew  Tale.  Phansy  a  country 
through  whose  werdant  planes  the  selvery  Garonne  wines,  like 
— like  a  benevvolent  sarpent.  In  its  plasid  busum  antient 
cassias,  picturask  willidges,  and  waving  woods  are  reflected. 
Purple  hills,  crownd  with  inteak  ruings  ;  rivvilets  babbling 
through  gentle  greenwoods ;  wight  farm  ouses,  hevvy  with 
lioverhanging  vines,  and  from  which  the  appy  and  peaseful 
okupier  can  cast  his  glans  over  goolden  waving  cornfealds,  and 
M.  Herald  meddows  in  which  the  lazy  cattle  are  graysinn  ;  while 
the  sheppard,  tending  his  snoughy  flox,  wiles  away  the  leisure 
mominx  on  his  loot — these  hoffer  but  a  phaint  pictur  of  the 
rurial  felissaty  in  the  midst  of  widge  Crinoline  and  Hesteria  de 
Viddlers  were  bawn. 

Their  Par,  the  Marcus  de  Viddlers,  Shavilear  of  the  Legend 
of  Honor  and  the  Lion  of  Bulgum,  the  Golden  Flease,  Grand 
Cross  of  the  Eflant  and  Castle,  and  of  the  Catinbagpipes  of 
Hostria,  Grand  Chamberleng  of  the  Crownd,  and  Major-Gen- 
aril  of  Hoss-Mareens,  &c.,  &c.,  &c., — is  the  twenty-foth  or  fith 
Marquis  that  has  bawn  the  Tittle  ;  is  disended  lenyally  from 
King  Pipping,  and  has  almost  as  antient  a  paddygree  as  any 
which  the  Ollywell  Street  frends  of  the  Member  of  Buckinum- 
sheer  can  supply. 

His  Marchyniss,  the  lovely  &  ecomplisht  Emily  de  St. 
Cornichon,  quitted  this  mortial  spear  very  soon  after  she  had 
presented  her  lord  with  the  two  little  dawling  Cherrybins  above 
dixcribed,  in  whomb,  after  the  loss  of  that  angle  his  wife,  the 
disconslit  widderer  found  his  only  jy  on  huth.  Li  all  his  emuse- 
mints  they  ecumpanied  him ;  their  edjacation  was  his  sole  bis- 
niss  ;  he  atcheaved  it  with  the  assistnce  of  the  ugliest  and 
most  lernid  masters,  and  the  most  hidjus  and  egsimplary  gov- 
ernices  which  money  could  procure.  R,  how  must  his  peturnle 
art  have  bet,  as  these  Budds,  which  he  had  nurrisht,  bust  into 
buty,  and  twined  in  blooming  flagrance  round  his  pirentle  Eusm  ! 

The  villidges  all  round  his  hancestral  Alls  blessed  the 
Marcus  and  his  lovely  hoffsprig.  Not  one  villidge  in  their  nay- 
brood  but  was  edawned  by  their  elygint  benifisns,  and  where 
the  inhabitnts  wern't  rendered  appy.  It  was  a  pattern  pheas- 
antry.  All  the  old  men  in  the  districk  were  wertuous  &  tocka- 
tive,  and  had  red  stockins  and  i-eeled  drab  shoes,  and  beautiful 
snowy  air.  All  the  old  women  had  peaked  ats,  and  crooked 
Gains,  and  chince  gowns  tucked  into  the  pockits  of  their  quiltid 
petticoats  ;  they  sat  in  picterask  porches,  pretendin  to  spinn, 
while  the  lads  and  lassis  of  the  villidges  danst  under  the  heliums. 
O,  tis  a  noble  sight  to  whitniss  that  of  an   appy  pheasantry  1 


CRINOLrKTE. 


71 


Not  one  of  those  rustic  wassals  of  the  Ouse  of  Widdlers,  but  ad 
his  air  curled  and  his  shirt-sleaves  tied  up  with  pink  ribbing  as 
he  led  to  the  macy  dance  some  appy  country  gal,  with  a  black 
velvit  boddice  and  a  redd  or  yaller  petticoat,  a  hormylu  cross 
on  her  neck,  and  a  silver  harrow  in  her  air ! 

When  the  Marcus  &  ther  young  ladies  came  to  the  villidge 
it  would  have  done  the  i's  of  the  flanthropist  good  to  see  how 
all  reseaved  'em  !  The  little  children  scattered  calico  flowers 
on  their  path,  the  snowy-aired  old  men  with  red  faces  and 
rinkles  took  off  their  brown  paper  ats  to  slewt  the  noble  Mar- 
cus. Young  and  old  led  them  to  a  woodn  bank  painted  to  look 
like  a  bower  of  roses,  and  when  they  were  sett  down  danst 
ballys  before  them.  O  'twas  a  noble  site  to  see  the  Marcus  too, 
smilin  ellygint  with  fethers  in  his  edd  and  all  his  stars  on,  and 
the  young  Marchynisses  with  their  ploomes,  and  trains,  and 
little  coronicks  ! 

They  lived  in  tremenjus  splendor  at  home  in  their  pyturnle 
alls,  and  had  no  end  of  pallises,  willers,  and  town  and  country 
resadences ;  but  their  fayvorit  resadence  was  called  the  Castle 
of  the  Island  of  Fogo. 

Add  I  the  penn  of  the  hawther  of  a  Codlingsby  himself,  I 
coodn't  dixcribe  the  gawjusness  of  their  aboad.  They  add 
twenty-four  footmen  in  livery,  besides  a  boy  in  codroys  for  the 
knives  &  shoes.  They  had  nine  meels  aday — Shampayne  and 
pineapples  were  served  to  each  of  the  young  ladies  in  bed  be- 
fore they  got  up.  Was  it  Prawns,  Sherry-cobbler,  lobster-sal  ids, 
or  maids  of  honor,  they  had  but  to  ring  the  bell  and  call  for 
what  they  chose.  They  had  two  new  dresses  every  day — one 
to  ride  out  in  the  open  carriage,  and  another  to  appear  in  the 
gardens  of  the  Castle  of  the  Island  of  Fogo,  which  were  illumi- 
nated every  night  like  Voxhall.  The  young  noblemen  of  France 
were  there  ready  to  dance  with  them,  and  festif  suppers  con- 
cludid  the  jawyus  night. 

Thus  they  lived  in  ellygant  ratirement  until  Missfortune  bust 
upon  this  happy  fammaly.  Etached  to  his  Princes  and  abomma- 
nating  the  ojus  Lewyphlip,  the  Marcus  was  conspiring  for  the 
benefick  of  the  helder  branch  of  the  Borebones — and  what  was 
the  consquince  ? — One  night  a  fleat  presented  itself  round  the 
Castle  of  the  Island  of  Fogo — and  skewering  only  a  couple  of 
chests  of  jewils,  the  Marcus  and  the  two  young  ladies  in  dis- 
gyise,  fled  from  that  island  of  bliss.  And  whither  fled  they  ? — • 
To  England  ! — England  the  ome  of  the  brave,  the  refuge  of  the 
world,  where  the  pore  slave  never  setts  his  foot  but  he  is  free  ! 

Such  was  the  ramantic  tail  which  was  told  to  2  friends  of 


72 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


ours  by  the  Marcus  de  Viddlers  himself,  whose  daughters, 
walking  with  their  page  from  Ungerford  Market  (where  they 
liad  been  to  purchis  a  paper  of  srimps  for  the  umble  supper  of 
their  noble  father),  Yardham  and  his  equaintnce,  Munseer  Jools, 
had  remarked  and  admired. 

But  how  had  those  two  young  Erows  become  equainted 
with  the  noble  Marcus  ? — That  is  a  rnistry  we  must  elucydate 
in  a  futur  vollam. 


THE  STARS  AND  STRIPES. 

By  the  Authors  of  "  The  I.ast  of  the  Mulligans,"  "  Pilot,"  etc; 


I. 

The  King  of  France  was  walking  on  the  terrace  of  Ver- 
sailles ;  the  fairest,  not  only  of  Queens,  but  of  women,  hung 
fondly  on  the  Royal  arm  ;  while  the  children  of  France  were 
indulging  in  their  infantile  hilarity  in  the  alleys  of  the  mag- 
niiicent  garden  of  Le  Notre  (from  which  Niblo's  garden  has  been 
copied,  in  our  own  Empire  city  of  New  York),  and  playing  at 
leap-frog  with  their  uncle,  the  Count  of  Provence  ;  gaudy  cour- 
tiers, emblazoned  with  orders,  glittered  in  the  groves,  and 
murmured  frivolous  talk  in  the  ears  of  high-bred  beauty. 

"  Maria,  my  beloved,"  said  the  ruler  of  France,  taking  out 
his  watch,  "  'tis  time  that  the  Minister  of  America  should  be 
here." 

"Your  Majesty  should  know  the  time,"  replied  Maria  An- 
toinette, archly,  and  in  an  Austrian  accent;  "is  not  my  Royal 
Louis  the  first  watchmaker  in  his  empire  ?  " 

The  King  cast  a  pleased  glance  at  his  repeater,  and  kissed 
with  courtly  grace  the  fair  hand  of  her  who  had  made  him  the 
compliment.  "  My  Lord  Bishop  of  Autun,"  said  he  to  Monsieur 
de  Talleyrand  Perigord,  who  followed  the  royal  pair,  in  his 
quality  of  arch-chamberlain  of  the  empire,  "  1  pray  you  look 
through  the  gardens,  and  tell  his  Excellency  Doctor  Franklin 
that  the  King  waits."  The  Bishop  ran  off,  with  more  than 
youthful  agility,  to  seek  the  United  States'  Minister.  "  These 
Republicans,"  he  added,  confidentially,  and  with  something  of 
a  supercilious  look,  "  are  but  rude  courtiers,  methinks." 

"  Nay,"  interposed  the  lovely  Antoinette,  "  rude  courtiers, 
Sire,  they  may  be ;  but  the  world  boasts  not  of  more  accom- 
plished gentlemen.  I  have  seen  no  grandee  of  Versailles  that 
has  the  noble  bearing  of  this  American  envoy  and  his  suite. 

(73) 


74 


NOVELS  BY  EMINENT  HANDS. 


They  have  the  refinement  of  the  Old  World,  with  all  the  simple 
elegance  of  the  New.  Though  they  have  perfect  dignity  of 
manner,  they  have  an  engaging  modesty  which  I  have  never 
seen  equalled  by  the  best  of  the  proud  English  nobles  with 
whom  they  wage  war.  I  am  told  they  speak  their  very  language 
with  a  grace  which  the  haughty  Islanders  who  oppress  them 
never  attained.  They  are  independent,  yet  never  insolent ; 
elegant,  yet  always  respectful ;  and  brave,  but  not  in  the  least 
boastful." 

"  What !  savages  and  all,  Marie  ?  "  exclaimed  Louis,  laugh- 
ing, and  chucking  the  lovely  Queen  playfully  under  the  royal 
chin.  "  But  here  comes  Doctor  Franklin,  and  your  friend  the 
Cacique  with  him."  In  fact,  as  the  monarch  spoke,  the  Minis- 
ter of  the  United  States  made  his  appearance,  followed  by  a 
gigantic  warrior  in  the  garb  of  his  native  woods. 

Knowing  his  place  as  Minister  of  a  sovereign  state,  (yield- 
ing even  then  in  dignity  to  none,  as  it  surpasses  all  now  in 
dignity,  in  valor,  in  honesty,  in  strength,  and  civilization,)  the 
Doctor  nodded  to  the  Queen  of  France,  but  kept  his  hat  on  as 
he  faced  the  French  monarch,  and  did  not  cease  whittling  the 
cane  he  carried  in  his  hand. 

"  I  was  waiting  for  you,  sir,"  the  King  said,  peevishly,  in 
spite  of  the  alarmed  pressure  which  the  Queen  gave  his  royal 
arm. 

"  The  business  of  the  Republic,  Sire,  must  take  precedence 
even  of  your  Majesty's  wishes,"  replied  Dr.  Franklin.  "  When 
I  was  a  poor  printer's  boy  iind  ran  errands,  no  lad  could  be 
more  punctual  than  poor  Ben  Franklin  ;  but  all  other  things 
must  yield  to  the  service  of  the  United  States  of  North  America. 
I  have  done.  What  would  you,  Sire?"  and  the  intrepid  re- 
publican eyed  the  monarch  with  a  serene  and  easy  dignity, 
which  made  the  descendant  of  St.  Louis  feel  ill  at  ease. 

"  I  wished  to — to  say  farewell  to  Tatua  before  his  departure," 
said  Louis  XVI.,  looking  rather  awkward.  "  Approach,  Tatua." 
And  the  gigantic  Indian  strode  up,  and  stood  undaunted  before 
the  first  magistrate  of  the  French  nation  :  again  the  feeble 
monarch  quailed  before  the  terrible  simplicity  of  the  glance  of 
the  denizen  of  the  primceval  forests. 

The  redoubted  chief  of  the  Nose-ring  Indians  was  decorated 
in  his  war-paint,  and  in  his  top-knot  was  a  peacock's  feather, 
which  had  been  given  him  out  of  the  head-dress  of  the  beautiful 
Princess  of  Lamballe.  His  nose,  from  which  hung  the  orna- 
ment from  which  his  ferocious  tribe  took  its  designation,  was 
painted  a  light-blue,  a  circle  of  green  and  orange  was  drawn 


THE  STARS  AND  STRIPES. 


75 


round  each  eye,  while  serpentine  stripes  of  black,  white,  and 
vermilion  alternately  were  smeared  on  his  forehead,  and  de- 
scended over  his  cheek-bones  to  his  chin.  His  manly  chest  was 
similarly  tattooed  and  painted,  and  round  his  brawny  neck  and 
arms  hung  innumerable  bracelets  and  necklaces  of  human  teeth, 
extracted  (one  only  from  each  skull)  from  the  jaws  of  those  who 
had  fallen  by  the  terrible  tomahawk  at  his  girdle.  His  moc- 
casins, and  his  blanket,  which  was  draped  on  his  arm  and  fell 
in  picturesque  folds  to  his  feet,  were  fringed  with  tufts  of  hair 
■ — the  black,  the  gray,  the  auburn,  the  golden  ringlet  of  beauty, 
the  red  lock  from  the  forehead  of  the  Scottish  or  the  Northern 
soldier,  the  snowy  tress  of  extreme  old  age,  the  flaxen  down  of 
infancy — all  were  there,  dreadful  reminiscences  of  the  chief's 
triumphs  in  war.  The  warrior  leaned  on  his  enormous  rifle, 
and  faced  the  King. 

"  And  it  was  with  that  carabine  that  you  shot  Wolfe  in  '57  ?  " 
said  Louis,  eyeing  the  warrior  and  his  weapon.  "  'Tis  a  clumsy 
lock,  and  methinks  I  could  mend  it,"  he  added  mentally. 

"  The  chief  of  the  French  pale-faces  speaks  truth,"  Tatua 
said.  "  Tatua  was  a  boy  when  he  went  first  on  the  war-j^ath 
with  Montcalm." 

"  And  shot  a  Wolfe  at  the  first  fire  ! "  said  the  King. 

"  The  English  are  braves,  though  their  faces  are  white,"  re- 
plied the  Indian.  "  Tatua  shot  the  raging  Wolfe  of  the  English ; 
but  the  other  wolves  caused  the  foxes  to  go  to  earth."  A  smile 
played  round  Dr.  Franklin's  lips,  as  he  whittled  his  cane  with 
more  vigor  than  ever. 

"  I  believe,  your  Excellency,  Tatua  has  done  good  service 
elsewhere  than  at  Quebec,"  the  King  said,  appealing  to  the 
American  Envoy  :  "  at  Bunker's  Hill,  at  Brandywine,  at  York 
Island  ?  Now  that  Lafayette  and  my  brave  Frenchmen  are 
among  you,  your  Excellency  need  have  no  fear  but  that  the  war 
will  finish  quickly — yes,  yes,  it  will  finish  quickly.  They  will 
teach  you  discipline,  and  the  way  to  conquer." 

"  King  Louis  of  France,"  said  the  Envoy,  clapping  his  hat 
down  over  his  head,  and  putting  his  arms  a-kimbo,  "we  have 
learned  that  from  the  British,  to  whom  we  are  superior  in  every- 
thing ;  and  I'd  have  your  Majesty  to  knov/  that  in  the  art  of 
whipping  the  world  we  have  no  need  of  any  French  lessons.  If 
your  reglars  jine  General  Washington,  'tis  to  larn  from  him  how 
Britishers  are  licked  ;  for  I'm  blest  \i  yni  know  the  way  yet." 

Tatua  said,  "Ugh,"  and  gave  a  rattle  with  the  butt  of  his 
carabine,  which  made  the  timid  monarch  start ;  the  eyes  of  the 
lovely  Antoinette  flashed  fire,  but  it  played  round  the  head  of 


^6  NO  VELS  B  V  EMINENT  HANDS. 

the  dauntless  American  Envoy  harmless  as  the  lightnmg  which 
he  knew  how  to  conjure  away. 

The  King  fumbled  in  his  pocket,  and  pulled  out  a  Cross  of 
the  Order  of  the  Bath.  "  Your  Excellency  wears  no  honor," 
the  monarch  said  ;  "  but  Tatua,  who  is  not  a  subject,  only  an 
ally,  of  the  United  States,  may.  Noble  Tatua,  I  appoint  you 
Knight  Companion  of  my  noble  Order  of  the  Bath.  Wear  this 
cross  upon  your  breast  in  memory  of  Louis  of  France  ;"  and 
the  King  held  out  the  decoration  to  the  Chief. 

Up  to  that  moment  the  Chief's  countenance  had  been  impas- 
sible. No  look  either  of  admiration  or  dislike  had  appeared 
upon  that  grim  and  war-painted  visage.  But  now,  as  Louis 
spoke,  Tatua's  face  assumed  a  glance  of  ineffable  scorn,  as, 
bending  his  head,  he  took  the  bauble. 

"  I  will  give  it  to  one  of  my  squaws,"  he  said.  "  The  pa- 
pooses in  my  lodge  will  play  with  it.  Come,  Me'decine,  Tatua 
will  go  and  drink  fire-water  ; "  and,  shouldering  his  carabine,  he 
turned  his  broad  back  without  ceremony  upon  the  monarch  and 
his  train,  and  disappeared  down  one  of  the  walks  of  the  garden. 
Franklin  found  him  when  his  own  interview  with  the  French 
Chief  Magistrate  was  over;  being  attracted  to  the  spot  where 
the  Chief  was,  by  the  crack  of  his  well-known  rifle.  He  was 
laughing  in  his  quiet  way.  He  had  shot  the  Colonel  of  the 
Swiss  Guards  through  his  cockade. 

Three  days  afterwards,  as  the  gallant  frigate,  the  "  Repu- 
diator,"  was  sailing  out  of  Brest  Harbor,  the  gigantic  form  of 
an  Indian  might  be  seen  standing  on  the  binnacle  in  conversa- 
tion with  Commodore  Bowie,  the  commander  of  the  noble  ship. 
It  was  Tatua,  the  chief  of  the  Nose-rings. 


IL 

Leatherlegs  and  Tom  Coxswain  did  not  accompany  Tatua 
when  he  went  to  the  Parisian  metropolis  on  a  visit  to  the  father 
of  the  French  pale-faces.  Neither  the  legs  nor  the  Sailor  cared 
for  the  gayety  and  the  crowd  of  cities  ;  the  stout  mariner's  home 
was  in  the  futtock-shrouds  of  the  old  "  Repudiator."  The  stern 
and  simple  trapper  loved  the  sound  of  the  waters  better  than  the 
jargon  of  the  French  of  the  old  country.  "  I  can  follow  the 
talk  of  a  Pawnee,"  he  said,  "or  wag  my  jaw,  if  so  be  necessity 
bids  me  to  speak,  by  a  Sioux's  council-fire  ;  and  I  can  patter 


THE  STARS  AND  STRIPES. 


77 


Canadian  French  with  the  hunters  who  come  for  peltries  to 
Nachitoches  or  Thichimuchimachy ;  but  from  tlie  tongue  of  a 
Frenchwoman,  with  white  flour  on  her  head,  and  war-paint  on 
her  face,  tlie  Lord  deliver  poor  Natty  Pumpo." 

"  Amen  and  amen  !  "  said  Tom  Coxswain.  "  There  was  a 
woman  in  our  aft-scuppers  when  I  went  a-whalin  in  the  little 
'  Grampus' — and  Lord  love  you,  Pumpo,  you  poor  land-swab, 
she  was  as  pretty  a  craft  as  ever  dowsed  a  tarpauling — there  was 
a  woman  on  board  the  '  Grampus,'  who  before  we'd  struck  our 
first  fish,  or  biled  our  first  blubber,  set  the  whole  crew  in  a  mu- 
tiny. I  mind  me  of  her  now,  Natty, — her  eye  was  sich  a  pier- 
cer that  you  could  see  to  steer  by  it  in  a  Newfoundland  fog ; 
her  nose  stood  out  like  the  'Grampus's'  jib-boom,  and  her  woice, 
Lord  love  you,  her  woice  sings  in  my  ears  even  now : — it  set 
the  Captain  a-quarrelin  with  the  Mate,  who  was  hanged  in 
Boston  harbor  for  harpoonin  of  his  officer  in  Baffin's  Bay ; — it 
set  me  and  Bob  Bunting  a-pouring  broadsides  into  each  other's 
old  timbers,  whereas  me  and  Bob  was  worth  all  the  women  that 
ever  shipped  a  hawser.  It  cost  me  three  years'  pay  as  Fd 
stowed  away  for  the  old  mother,  and  might  have  cost  me  ever 
so  much  more,  only  bad  luck  to  me,  she  went  and  married  a 
little  tailor  out  of  Nantucket ;  and  I've  hated  women  and  tailors 
ever  since  !  "  As  he  spoke,  the  hardy  tar  dashed  a  drop  of 
brine  from  his  tawny  cheek,  and  once  more  betook  himself  to 
splice  the  taffrail. 

Though  the  brave  frigate  lay  off  Havre  de  Grace,  she  was 
not  idle.  The  gallant  Bowie  and  his  intrepid  crew  made  re- 
peated descents  upon  the  enemy's  seaboard.  The  coasts  of 
Rutland  and  merry  Leicestershire  have  still  many  a  legend  of 
fear  to  tell  \  and  the  children  of  the  British  fishermen  tremble 
even  now  when  they  speak  of  the  terrible  "  Repudiator."  She 
was  the  first  of  the  mighty  American  war-ships  that  have  taught 
the  domineering  Briton  to  respect  the  valor  of  the  Republic. 

The  novelist  ever  and  anon  finds  himself  forced  to  adopt 
the  sterner  tone  of  the  historian,  when  describing  deeds  con- 
nected with  his  country's  triumphs.  It  is  well  known  that 
during  the  two  months  in  which  she  lay  off  Havre,  the  "  Re- 
pudiator" had  brought  more  prizes  into  that  port  than  had 
ever  before  been  seen  in  the  astonished  French  waters.  Her  ac- 
tions with  the  "  Dettingen  "  and  the  "  Elector  "  frigates  form 
part  of  our  country's  history  ;  their  defence — it  may  be  said 
without  prejudice  to  national  vanity — was  worthy  of  Britons 
and  of  the  audacious  foe  they  had  to  encounter  ;  and  it  must  be 
owned,  that  but  for  a  happy  fortune  which  presided  on  that 


78  NOVELS  BY  EMINEiVT  HANDS. 

day  over  the  destinies  of  our  country,  the  chance  of  the  combat 
might  have  been  in  favor  of  the  British  vessels.  It  was  not 
until  the  "  Elector  "  blew  up,  at  a  quarter  past  three  p.  m.,  by  a 
lucky  shot  which  fell  into  her  caboose,  and  communicated  with 
the  powder-magazine,  that  Commodore  Bowie  v,as  enabled  to 
lay  himself  on  board  the  "  Dettingen,  "  which  he  carried  sword 
in  hand.  Even  when  the  American  boarders  had  made  their 
lodgment  on  the  "  Dettingen's  "  binnacle,  it  is  possible  that 
the  battle  would  still  have  gone  against  us.  The  British  were 
still  seven  to  one  :  their  carronades,  loaded  with  marline-spikes, 
swept  the  gun-deck,  of  which  we  had  possession,  and  decimated 
our  little  force ;  when  a  rifle-ball  from  the  shrouds  of  the 
"  Repudiator"  shot  Captain  Mumford  under  the  star  of  the 
Guelphic  Order  which  he  wore,  and  the  Americans,  with  a 
shout,  rushed  up  the  companion  to  the  quarter-deck,  upon 
the  astonished  foe.  Pike  and  cutlass  did  the  rest  of  the 
bloody  work.  Rumford,  the  gigantic  first-lieutenant  of  the 
"  Dettingen,"  was  cut  down  by  Commodore  Bowie's  own  sword, 
as  they  .engaged  hand  to  hand  :  and  it  was  Tom  Coxswain  who 
tore  down  the  British  flag,  after  having  slain  the  Englishman 
at  the  wheel.  Peace  be  to  the  souls  of  the  brave  !  The  com- 
bat was  honorable  alike  to  the  victor^and  the  vanquished ;  and 
it  never  can  be  said  that  an  American  warrior  depreciated  a 
gallant  foe.  The  bitterness  of  defeat  was  enough  to  the 
haughty  islanders  who  had  to  sufl:er.  The  people  of  Heme 
Bay  were  lining  the  shore,  near  which  the  combat  took  place, 
and  cruel  must  have  been  the  pang  to  them  when  they  saw  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  rise  over  the  old  flag  of  the  Union,  and  the 
"Dettingen"  fall  down  the  river  in  tow  of  the  Republican 
frigate. 

Another  action  Bowie  contemplated  ;  the  boldest  and  most 
daring  perhaps  ever  imagined  by  seaman.  It  is  this  which  has 
been  so  wrongly  described  by  European  annalists,  and  of 
which  the  British  until  now  have  maintained  the  most  jealous 
secrecy. 

Portsmouth  Harbor  was  badly  defended.  Our  intelligence 
in  that  town  and  arsenal  gave  us  precise  knowledge  of  the  dis- 
position of  the  troops,  the  forts,  and  the  ships  there  ,  and  it 
was  determined  to  strike  a  blow  which  should  shake  the  Brit- 
ish power  in  its  centre. 

That  a  frigate  of  the  size  of  the  "Repudiator"  should 
enter  the  harbor  unnoticed,  or  could  escape  its  guns  unscathed, 
passed  the  notions  of  even  American  temerity.  But  upon  the 
memorable  26th  of  June,  1782,  the  "Repudiator  "  sailed  out  of 


THE  STARS  AND  STRIPES 


79 


Havre  Roads  in  a  thick  fog,  under  cover  of  which  she  entered 
and  cast  anchor  in  Eonchurch  Bay,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight.  To 
surprise  the  Martello  Tower  and  take  the  feeble  garrison 
thereunder,  was  the  work  of  Tom  Coxswain  and  a  few  of  his 
blue-jackets.  The  surprised  garrison  laid  down  their  arms 
before  him. 

It  was  midnight  before  the  boats  of  the  ship,  commanded 
by  Lieutenant  Bunker,  pulled  off  from  Bonchurch  with  muffled 
oars,  and  in  another  hour  were  off  the  Common  Hard  of  Ports- 
mouth, having  passed  the  challenges  of  the  "Thetis,"  the 
"  Amphion  "  frigates,  and  the  "  Polyanthus  "  brig. 

There  had  been  on  that  day  great  feasting  and  merri- 
ment on  board  the  Flag-ship  lying  in  the  harbor.  A  banquet 
had  been  given  in  honor  of  the  birthday  of  one  of  the  princes 
of  the  royal  line  of  the  Guelphs — the  reader  knows  the  pro- 
pensity of  Britons  when  liquor  is  in  plenty.  All  on  board  that 
royal  ship  were  more  or  less  overcome.  The  Flag-ship  was 
plunged  in  a  death-like  and  drunken  sleep.  The  very  officer 
of  the  watch  was  intoxicated  :  he  could  not  see  the  "  Repudia- 
tor's  "  boats  as  they  shot  swiftly  through  the  waters  ;  nor  had 
he  time  to  challenge  her  seamen  as  they  swarmed  up  the  huge 
sides  of  the  ship. 

At  the  next  moment  Tom  Coxswain  stood  at  the  wheel  of 
the  *'  Royal  George  " — the  Briton  who  had  guarded,  a  corpse 
at  his  feet.  The  hatches  were  down.  The  ship  was  in  posses- 
sion of  the  "  Repudiator's  "  crew.  They  were  busy  in  her  rig- 
ging, bending  her  sails  to  carry  her  out  of  the  harbor.  The 
well-known  heave  of  the  men  at  the  windlass,  woke  up  Kem- 
penfelt  in  his  state  cabin.  We  know,  or  rather  do  not  know, 
the  result ;  for  who  can  tell  by  whom  the  lower-deck  ports  of 
the  brave  ship  were  opened,  and  how  the  haughty  prisoners 
below  sunk  the  ship  and  its  conquerors  rather  than  yield  her 
as  a  prize  to  the  Republic  ? 

Only  Tom  Coxswain  escaped  of  victors  and  vanquished. 
His  tale  was  told  to  the  Captain  and  to  the  Congress,  but 
Washington  forbade  its  publication  ;  and  it  was  but  lately  that 
the  faithful  seaman  told  it  to  me,  his  grandson,  on  his  hundred- 
and-fifteenth  birthday. 

6 


A    PLAN     FOR    A    PRIZE     NOVEL. 

In  a  Letter  from  the   eminent  Dramatist  Brown  to  the  eminent  NovdiA 

Snooks. 


"  Cafe  dcss  Avetiglcs. 

"  My  dear  Snooks, 

"  I  AM  on  the  look-out  here  for  materials  for  original  com- 
edies such  as  those  lately  produced  at  your  theatre  ;  and,  in  the 
course  of  my  studies,  I  have  found  something,  my  dear  Snooks, 
which  I  think  will  suit  your  book.  You  are  bringing,  I  see, 
your  admirable  novel,  '  The  Mysteries  of  May  Fair,'  to  an  end— 
(by  the  wav,  the  scene,  in  the  200th  number,  between  the  Duke, 
his  Grandmother,  and  the  Jesuit  Butler,  is  one  of  the  most 
harrowing  and  exciting  I  ever  read) — and,  of  course,  you  must 
turn  your  real  genius  to  some  other  channel;  and  we  may 
expect  that  your  pen  shall  not  be  idle. 

"  The  original  plan  I  have  to  propose  to  you,  then,  is  taken 
from  the  French,  just  like  the  original  dramas  above  mentioned  ; 
and,  indeed,  I  found  it  in  the  law  report  of  the  National  news- 
paper, and  a  French  literary  gentleman,  M,  Emanuel  Gon- 
zales, has  the  credit  of  the  invention.  He  and  an  advertisement 
agent  fell  out  about  a  question  of  money,  the  affair  was  brought 
before  the  courts,  and  the  little  plot  so  got  wind.  But  there  is 
no  reason  why  you  should  not  take  the  plot  and  act  on  it  your- 
self. You  are  a  known  man  ;  the  public  relishes  your  works  ; 
anything  bearing  the  name  of  Snooks  is  eagerly  read  by  the 
masses  ;  and  though  Messrs.  Hookey,  of  Holywell  Street,  pay 
you  handsomely,  1  make  no  doubt  you  would  like  to  be  re- 
warded at  a  still  higher  figure. 

"Unless  he  writes  with  a  purpose,  you  know,  a  novelist  in 
our  days  is  good  for  nothing.  This  one  writes  with  a  socialist 
purpose  ;  that  with  a  conservative  purpose  :  this  author^  or 
authoress  with  the  most  delicate  skill  insinuates  Catholicism 
into  you,  and  you  find  yourself  all  but  a  Papist  in  the  third 
(80) 


A  PLAN  FOR  A  PRIZE  NOVEL.  gi 

volume  :  another  doctors  you  with  Low  Church  remedies  to 
work  inwardly  upon  you,  and  v/hich  you  swallow  down  unsus- 
piciously, as  children  do  calomel  in  jelly.  Fiction  advocates 
all  sorts  of  truth  and  causes — don't  the  delightful  bard  of  the 
Minories  find  Moses  in  everything  ?  M.  Gonzales's  plan,  and 
the  one  which  I  recommend  to  my  dear  Snooks,  simply  w-as  to 
write  an  advertisement  novel.  Look  over  The  Times  or  the 
'  Directory,'  walk  down  Regent  Street  or  Fleet  Street  any 
day — see  what  houses  advertise  most,  and  put  yourself  into 
communication  with  their  proprietors.  With  your  rings,  your 
chains,  your  studs,  and  the  tip  on  your  chin,  I  don't  know  any 
greater  swell  than  Bob  Snooks.  Walk  into  the  shops,  I  say, 
ask  for  the  principal,  and  introduce  yourself,  saying,  '  I  am  the 
great  Snooks  ;  I  am  the  author  of  the  "  Mysteries  of  May 
Fair;"  my  weekly  sale  is  281,000;  lam  about  to  produce  a 
new  work  called  "  The  Palaces  of  Pimlico,  or  the  Curse  of  the 
Court,"  describing  and  lashing  fearlessly  the  vices  of  the  aris- 
tocracy :  this  book  will  have  a  sale  of  at  least  530,000  ;  it  will 
be  on  every  table — in  the  boudoir  of  the  pampered  duke,  as  in 
the  chamber  of  the  honest  artisan.  The  myriads  of  foreigners 
who  are  coming  to  London,  and  are  anxious  to  know  about  our 
national  manners,  will  purchase  my  book,  and  carry  it  to  their 
distant  homes.  So,  Mr.  Taylor,  or  Mr.  Haberdasher,  or  Mr. 
Jeweller,  how  much  will  you  stand  if  I  recommend  you  in  my 
forthcoming  novel  ? '  You  may  make  a  noble  income  in  this 
way,  Snooks. 

"  For  instance,  suppose  it  is  an  upholsterer.  What  more 
easy,  what  more  delightful,  than  the  description  of  upholstery  ? 
As  thus  : — 

"'Lady  Emily  was  reclining  on  one  of  Down  and  Eider's 
voluptuous  ottomans,  the  only  couch  on  which  Eelgravian 
beauty  now  reposes,  when  Lord  Bathershins  entered,  stepping 
noiselessly  over  one  of  Tomkins's  elastic  Axminster  carpets. 
"  Good  heavens,  my  lord  !  "  she  said — and  the  lovely  creature 
fainted.  The  Earl  rushed  to  the  mantel-piece,  where  he  saw  a 
flacon  of  Otto's  eau-de-Cologne,  and,'  &:c. 

"  Or  say  it's  a  cheap  furniture-shop,  and  it  may  be  brought 
in  just  as  easy.     As  thus  : — 

"  '  We  are  poor,  Eliza,"  said  Harry  Hardhand,  looking 
affectionately  at  his  wife,  'but  we  have  enough,  love,  have  we 
not,  for  our  humble  wants  ?  The  rich  and  luxurious  may  go  to 
Dillow's  or  Gobiggin's,  but  we  can  get  our  rooms  comfortably 
furnished  at  Timmonson's  for  20/.'  And  putting  on  her  bon- 
net, and  hanging  affectionately  on   her  husband,  the  stoker's 


82  NO  VELS  B  Y  EMINENT  HANDS. 

pretty  bride  tripped  gayly  to  the  well-known  mart,  where  Tim- 
monson,  with  his  usual  affability,  was  ready  to  receive  them. 

"  Then  you  might  have  a  touch  at  the  wine-merchant  and 
purveyor.  '  Where  did  you  get  this  delicious  claret,  oj: pdle  d& 
foi gras,  or  what  you  please  ? '  said  Count  Blagowski  to  the  gay 
young  Sir  Horace  Swellmore.  The  voluptuous  Bart  answered, 
'  At  So-and-so's,  or  So-and-So's.^  The  answer  is  obvious.  You 
may  furnish  your  cellar  or  your  larder  in  this  way.  Begad, 
Snooks  !  I  lick  my  lips  at  the  very  idea  ? 

"  Then  as  to  tailors,  milliners,  bootmakers,  (S;c.,  how  easy 
to  get  a  word  for  them  !  Amramson,  the  tailor,  waited  upon 
Lord  Paddington  with  an  assortment  of  his  unrivalled  waist- 
coats, or  clad  in  that  simple  but  aristocratic  style  of  which 
Schneider  alojie  has  the  secret.  Parvy  Newcome  really  looked 
like  a  gentleman,  and  though  corpulent  and  crooked,  Schnei- 
der had  managed  to  give  him,  &c.  Don't  you  see  what  a  stroke 
of  business  you  might  do  in  this  way. 

"The  shoemaker. — Lady  Fanny  flew,  rather  than  danced, 
across  the  ball-room  ;  only  a  Sylphide,  or  Taglioni,  or  a  lady 
chausseed  by  Chevillett  of  Bond  Street,  could  move  in  that  fairy 
way  ;  and 

"  The  hairdresser. — '  Count  Barbarossa  is  seventy  years  of 
age,'  said  the  Earl,  '  I  remember  him  at  the  Congress  of 
Vienna,  and  he  has  not  a  single  gray  hair.'  Wiggins  laughed. 
'  My  good  Lord  Baldock,'  said  the  old  wag, '  I  saw  Barbarossa's 
hair  coming  out  of  Ducroissant's  shop,  and  under  his  valet's 
arm — ho  !  ho  !  ho  ! ' — and  the  two  bon-vivans  chuckled  as  the 
Count  passed  by,  talking  with,  &c.,  &c, 

"  The  gunmaker. — '  The  antagonists  faced  each  other ;  and 
undismayed  before  his  gigantic  enemy,  Kilconnel  raised  his 
pistol.  It  was  one  of  Clicker's  manufacture,  and  Sir  Manna- 
duke  knew  he  could  trust  the  maker  and  the  weapon.  "  One, 
two,  three"  cried  O'Tool,  and  the  two  pistols  went  off  at  that 
instant,  and  uttering  a  terrific  curse,  the  Lifeguardsman,'  &c. — 
A  sentence  of  this  nature  from  your  pen,  my  dear  Snooks,  would, 
I  should  think,  bring  a  case  of  pistols  and  a  double-barrelled 
gun  to  your  lodgings  ;  and,  though  heaven  forbid  you  should 
use  such  weapons,  you  might  sell  them,  you  know,  and  we 
could  make  merry  with  the  proceeds. 

"  If  my  hint  is  of  any  use  to  you,  it  is  quite  at  your  service, 
deal  Snooks ;  and  should  anything  come  of  it,  I  hope  you  will 
remJ.nbcr  your  friend." 


THE  DIARY 

OF 

C.  JEAMES   DE   LA  PLUCHE,  ESQ. 

WITH    HIS    LETTERS. 


THE  DIARY 


OF 

C.  JEAMES    DE    LA  PLUCHE,  ESQ. 


A     LUCKY    SPECULATOR. 

"  Considerable  sensation  has  been  excited  in  the  upper  and  lower  circles  in  th« 
West  End,  by  a  startling  piece  of  good  fortune  which  has  befallen  James  Plush,  Esq., 
lately  footman  in  a  respected  family  in  Berkeley  Square. 

"  One  day  last  week,  Mr.  James  waited  upon  his  master,  who  is  a  banker  in  the 
City;  and  after  a  little  blushing  and  hesitation,  said  he  had  saved  a  little  money  in 
service,  was  anxious  to  retire,  and  to  invest  his  savings  to  advantage. 

"  His  master  (we  believe  we  may  mention,  without  offending  delicacy,  the  well- 
known  name  of  Sir  George  Flimsy,  of  the  house  of  Flimsy,  Uiddler,  and  Flash,) 
smilingly  asked  Mr.  James  what  was  the  amount  of  his  savings,  wondering  considera- 
bly how,  out  of  an  income  of  thirty  guineas — the  main  part  of  which  he  spent  in 
bouquets,  silk  stockings,  and  perfumery — Mr.  Plush  could  have  managed  to  lay  by 
anything. 

"  Mr.  Plush,  with  some  hesitation,  said  he  had  been  speculating  in  railroads^  and 
stated  his  winnings  to  have  been  thirty  thousand  pounds.  He  had  commenced  his 
speculations  with  twenty,  borrowed  from  a  fellow-servant.  He  had  dated  his  letters 
from  the  house  in  Berkeley  Square,  and  humbly  begged  pardon  of  his  master  for  not 
having  instructed  the  railway  Secretaries  who  answered  his  applications  to  apply  at 
the  area-bell. 

"  Sir  George,  who  was  at  breakfast,  instantly  rose,  and  shook  Mr.  P.  by  the  hand ; 
Lady  Flimsy  begged  him  to  be  seated,  and  partake  of  the  breakfast  which  he  had 
laid  on  the  table ;  and  has  subsequently  invited  him  to  her  grand  dejeuner  at  Rich- 
mond, where  it  was  observed  that  Miss  Emily  Flimsy,  her  beautiful  and  accomplished 
seventh  daughter,  paid  the  lucky  gentleman  marked  attention. 

"  We  hear  it  stated  that  Mr.  P.  is  of  a  very  ancient  family  (Hugo  de  la  Pluche 
came  over  with  the  Conqueror) ;  and  the  new  brougham  which  he  has  started  bears 
the  ancient  coat  of  his  race. 

"He  has  taken  apartments  in  the  Albany,  and  is  a  director  of  thirty-three  railroads. 
He  proposes  to  stand  for  parliament  at  the  next  general  election  on  decidedly  con- 
servative principles,  which  have  always  been  the  politics  of  his  family. 

"  Report  says,  that  even  in  his  humble  capacity  Miss  Emily  Flimsy  had  remarked 
his  high  demeanor.  Well,  '  None  but  the  brave,'  say  we,  '  deserve  the  fair.' '' — Morn' 
ing  Paper. 

This  announcement  will  explain  the  following  lines,  which 
have  been  put  into  our  box  *  with  a  West  End  post-mark.     If, 

*  The  letter-box  of  Mr.  Punch,  in  whose  columns  these  papers  were  first  published. 

(8S) 


86  THE  DIAR  Y  OP 

as  we  believe,  they  are  written  by  the  young  woman  from  whom 
the  millionaire  borrowed  the  sum  on  which  he  raised  his  for- 
tune, what  heart  will  not  melt  with  sympathy  at  her  tale,  and 
pity  the  sorrows  which  she  expresses  in  such  artless  language  ? 

If  it  be  not  too  late ;  if  wealth  have  not  rendered  its  pos- 
sessor callous ;  if  poor  Maryanne  be  still  alive ;  we  trust,  we 
trust  Mr.  Plush  will  do  her  justice. 

"JEAMES  OF  BUCKLEY  SQUARE. 
"a  heligy. 

"  Come  all  ye  gents  vot  cleans  the  plate, 

Come  all  ye  ladies'  maids  so  fair — 
Vile  I  a  story  vil  relate 

Of  cruel  yeames  of  Buckley  Square. 
A  tighter  lad,  it  is  confest, 

Neer  valked  with  powder  in  his  air, 
Or  vore  a  nosegay  in  his  breast, 

Than  andsum  Jeames  of  Buckley  Squara, 

"  O  Evns  !  it  vas  the  best  of  sights, 

Behind  his  Master's  coacii  and  pair, 
To  see  our  Jeames  in  red  plush  tights, 

A  driving  hoff  from  Buckley  Square. 
He  vel  became  his  hagwilletts, 

He  cocked  his  at  with  siich  a  hair ; 
His  calves  and  viskers  vas  such  pets, 

That  hall  loved  Jeames  of  Buckley  Square. 

"  He  pleased  the  hup-stairs  folks  as  veil, 

And  o  !  I  vithered  vith  despair. 
Missis  vould  ring  the  parler  bell, 

And  call  up  Jeames  in  Buckley  Square. 
Both  beer  and  sperrits  he  abliord 

(Sperrits  and  beer  I  can't  a  bear), 
You  would  have  thought  he  vas  a  lord 

Down  in  our  All  in  Buckley  Square. 

"  Last  year  he  visper'd,  '  Mary  Ann, 

Ven  I've  an  under' d  pound  to  spare, 
To  take  a  public  is  my  plan, 

And  leave  this  hojous  Buckley  Square. 
O  how  my  gentle  heart  did  bound. 

To  think  that  I  his  name  should  bear. 
*  Dear  Jeames,'  says  I,  '  I've  twenty  pound,' 

And  gev  them  him  at  Buckley  Square. 

"  Our  Master  vas  a  City  gent, 

His  name's  in  railroads  everywhere, 
And  lord,  vot  lots  of  letters  vent 

Bctwigst  his  brokers  and  Buckley  Square! 
My  Jeames  it  was  the  letters  took, 

And  read  them  all,  (1  think  it's  fair,) 
And  took  a  leaf  from  Master's  book. 

As  hothers  do  in  Buckley  Square. 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  87 

"  Encouraged  with  my  twenty  pound 

Of  which  jjoor  /  was  unavare, 
He  wrote  the  Companiei  all  round. 

And  signed  hisself  from  Buckley  Square. 
And  how  John  Porter  used  to  grin, 

As  day  by  day,  share  after  share, 
Came  railvay  letters  pouring  in, 

'  J.  Plush,  Esquire,  in  Buckley  Square.' 

*'  Our  servants'  All  was  in  a  rage — 

Scrip,  stock,  curves,  gradients,  bull  and  bear, 
Vith  butler,  coachman,  groom  and  page, 

Vas  all  the  talk  in  Buckley  Square, 
But  O  !  imagine  vot  1  felt 

Last  Vensday  veek  as  ever  were  ; 
I  gits  a  letter,  which  I  spelt 

"'  Miss  M.  A.  Hoggins,  Buckley  Square.' 

"  He  sent  me  back  my  money  true- 
He  sent  me  back  my  lock  of  air, 

And  said,  '  My  dear,  I  bid  ajew 

To  Mary  Hann  and  Buckley  Squara 

Think  not  to  marry,  foolish  Hann, 
With  people  who  your  betters  are ; 

James  Plush  is  now  a  gentleman, 
And  you — a  cook  in  Buckley  Square. 

" '  I've  thirty  thousand  guineas  won. 

In  six  short  months,  by  genus  rare ; 
You  little  thought  what  Jeames  was  on, 

Poor  Mary  Hann,  in  Buckley  Square. 
I've  thirty  thousand  guineas  net. 

Powder  and  plush  I  scorn  to  vear  ; 
And  so.  Miss  Mary  Hann,  forget 

For  hever  Jeames,  of  Buckley  Square.'  " 

4p  ^  ^  ^  * 

The  rest   of  the   MS.  is  illegible,  being  literally  washed 
away  in  a  flood  of  tears. 


A  LETTER  FROM  "JEAMES,  OF  BUCKLEY  SQUARE." 

"  Albany,  Letter  X.     August  10,  1845. 

"  Sir, — Has  a  reglar  suscriber  to  your  emusing  paper,  I  beg 
leaf  to  state  that  I  should  never  have  done  so,  had  I  sup- 
posed that  it  was  your  abbit  to  igspose  the  mistaries  of  privit 
life,  and  to  hinjer  the  delligit  feelings  of  umble  individyouals 
like  myself,  who  have  no  ideer  of  being  made  the  subject  of 
newspaper  criticism. 

"  I  elude,  sir,  to  the  unjustafiable  use  which  has  been  made 
of  my  name  in  your  Journal,  where  both  my  muccantile  spec- 
lations  and  the  hinmost  pashsn  of  my  art  have  been  brot  for- 
rards  in  a  ridicklus  way  for  the  public  emusemint. 

*'  What  call,  sir,  has  the  public  to  inquire  into  the  suckm* 


88  THE  DIARY  OF 

stansies  of  my  engagements  with  Miss  Mary  Hann  Oggins,  oi 
to  meddle  with  their  rupsher  ?  Why  am  I  to  be  maid  the 
hobjick  of  your  redicule  in  a  doggril  ballit  impewted  to  her  ?  I 
say  ivipexvied,  because,  in  my  time  at  least,  Mary  Hann  could 
only  sign  her-{-  mark  (has  I've  hoften  witnist  it  for  her  wdien 
she  paid  bin  at  the  Savings  bank),  and  has  for  sacrificing  ta 
the  Mezoses  and  making  poatry,  she  was  as  hincapible  as  Mr. 
Wakley  himself. 

"  With  respect  to  the  ballit,  my  baleaf  is,  that  it  is  wrote 
by  a  footman  in  a  low  famly,  a  pore  retch  who  attempted  to 
rivle  me  in  my  affections  to  Mary  Hann — a  feller  not  five  foot 
six,  and  with  no  more  calves  to  his  legs  than  a  donkey — who 
was  always  a-ritin  (having  been  a  doctor's  boy)  and  who  I 
nockt  down  with  a  pint  of  porter  (as  he  well  recklex)  at  the  3 
Tuns  Jerming  Street,  for  daring  to  try  to  make  a  but  of  me. 
He  has  signed  Miss  H's  name  to  his  nonsince  and  lies:  and 
you  lay  yourself  hopen  to  a  haction  for  lible  for  insutting  them 
in  your  paper. 

"  It  is  false  that  I  have  treated  Miss  H.  hill  in  liany  way. 
Tliat  I  borrowed  2olb  of  her  is  irew.  But  she  confesses  I  paid 
it  back.  Can  hall  people  say  as  much  of  the  money  they've  lent 
or  bon-owed  ?  No.  And  I  not  only  paid  it  back,  but  giv  her 
the  andsomest  pres'nts  :  which  Inez'er  should  have  eluded  to,  but 
for  this  attack.  Fust,  a  silver  thimble  (which  I  found  in 
Missus's  work-box)  ;  secknd,  a  vollom  of  Byrom's  poems  ;  third, 
I  halways  brought  her  a  glas  of  Curasore,  when  we  ad  a  party, 
of  which  she  was  remarkable  fond.  I  treated  her  to  Hashley's 
twice  (and  halways  a  srimp  or  a  hoyster  by  the  way),  and  a 
thoivsud  dcligit  attentions,  which  I  sapose  count  for  nothink. 

"  Has  for  marridge.  Haltered  suckmstancies  rendered  it 
himpossable.  I  was  gone  into  a  new  spear  of  life — mingling 
with  my  native  aristoxy.  I  breathe  no  sallible  of  blame  against 
Miss  H.,  but  his  a  hilliterit  cookmaid  fit  to  set  at  a  fashnable 
table  ?  Do  young  fellers  of  rank  genrally  marry  out  of  the 
Kitching  ?  If  we  cast  our  i's  upon  a  low-born  gal,  I  needn  say 
it's  only  a  tempory  distraction, /^r,f/^i-jy  k  long.  So  much  for 
her  claims  upon  me.  Has  for  that  ieest  of  a  Doctor's  boy  he's 
unwuthy  the  notas  of  a  Gentleman. 

"  That  I've  one  thirty  thousand  lb,  and  praps  more,  I  dont 
deny.  Ow  much  has  the  Kilossus  of  Railroads  one,  I  should 
like  to  know,  and  what  was  his  cappitle  ?  I  hentered  the 
market  with  2olb,  specklated  Jewdicious,  and  ham  what  I  ham. 
So  may  you  be  if  you  have  2olb,  and  praps  you  haven't) — So 
may  you  be :  if  you  choose  to  go  in  &  win. 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  89 

"I  for  my  part  am  ]Vi%\j prorvd oi  mysuxess,  and  could  give 
you  a  hundred  instances  of  my  gratatude.  For  igsample,  the 
fust  pair  of  hosses  I  bought  (and  a  better  pair  of  steppers  I 
dafy  you  to  see  in  hany  curracle),  I  crisn'd  Hull  and  Selby,  in 
grateful  elusion  to  my  transackshns  in  that  railroad.  INIy  riding 
Cob  I  called  very  unhaptly  my  Dublin  and  Galway.  He  came 
down  with  me  the  other  day,  and  I've  jest  sold  him  at  )i(  dis: 
count. 

"  At  fust  with  prudence  and  modration  I  only  kep  two 
grooms  for  my  stables,  one  of  whom  lickwise  waited  on  me  at 
table.  I  have  now  a  confidenshle  servant,  a  vally  de  shamber 
— He  curls  my  air;  inspex  my  accounts,  and  hansers  my 
hinvitations  to  dinner.  I  call  this  vally  my  T7-ent  Valicy,  for  it 
was  the  prophit  I  got  from  that  exlent  line,  which  injuiced  me 
to  ingage  him. 

"  Besides  my  North  British  Plate  and  breakfast  equipidge 
— I  have  two  handsom  suvvices  for  dinner — the  goold  plate  for 
Sundays,  and  the  silver  for  common  use.  \\'hen  I  ave  a  great 
party,  '  Trent,'  I  say  to  my  man,  'we  will  have  the  London  and 
Bummingham  plate  to-day  (the  goold),  or  else  the  IVIanchester 
and  Leeds  (the  silver).'  I  bought  them  after  realizing  on  the 
abuf  lines,  and  if  people  suppose  that  the  companys  made  me 
a  presnt  of  the  plate,  how  can  I  help  it  ? 

"  In  the  sam  way  I  say,  '  Trent,  bring  us  a  bottle  of  Bristol 
and  Hexeter  !  '  or,  '  Put  some  Heastern  Counties  in  hice  ! '  Jle 
knows  what  I  mean  :  it's  the  wines  I  bought  upon  the  hospi- 
cious  tummination  of  my  connexshn  with  those  two  railroads. 

"  So  strong,  indeed,  as  this  abbit  become,  that  being  asked 
to  stand  Godfather  to  the  youngest  Miss  Diddle  last  weak,  I 
had  her  christened  (provisionally)  Rosamell — from  the  French 
line  of  which  I  am  Director ;  and  only  the  other  day,  finding 
myself  rayther  unwell,  '  Doctor,'  says  I  to  Sir  Jeames  Clark, 
'  I've  sent  to  consult  you  because  my  Midlands  are  out  of  border ; 
and  I  want  you  to  send  them  up  to  a  premium.'  The  Doctor 
lafd,  and  I  beleave  told  the  story  subsquintly  at  Buckinum 
P-ll-s. 

"  But  I  will  trouble  you  no  father.  My  sole  objict  in  writ- 
ing has  been  to  dear  7ny  ca7'rater — to  show  that  I  came  by  my 
money  in  a  honrableway  :  that  I'm  not  ashaymd  of  the  manner 
in  which  I  gayned  it,  and  ham  indeed  grateful  for  my  good 
fortune. 

"  To  conclude,  I  have  ad  my  podigree  maid  out  at  the 
Erald  Hoffis  (I  don't  vc\e.z.nt\\e  Afonii/ig  EfaU),  and  have  took 
for  my  arms  a  Stagg.     You  are  corrict  in  stating  that  I  am  of 


90 


THE  DIARY  OF 


hancient  Normin  famly.  This  is  more  than  Peal  can  say,  to 
whomb  I  applied  for  abarnetcy;  but  the  primmier  being  of  low 
igstraction,  natrally  stickles  for  his  border.  Consurvative 
though  I  be,  I  may  change  my  opinions  before  the  next  Election^ 
when  I  intend  to  hoffer  myself  as  a  Candydick  for  Parlymint. 
*'  Meanwhile,  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 
"  Your  most  obeajnt  Survnt, 

"  Fitz-James  de  la  Pluche." 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUG  HE.  gt 


THE    DIARY. 

One  day  in  the  panic  week,  our  friend  Jeames  called  at 
our  office,  evidently  in  great  perturbation  of  mind  and  disorder 
of  dress.  He  had  no  flower  in  his  button-hole  ;  his  yellow  kid 
gloves  were  certainly  two  days  old.  He  had  not  above  three 
of  the  ten  chains  he  usually  sports,  and  his  great  coarse  knotty- 
knuckled  old  hands  were  deprived  of  some  dozen  of  the  rubies, 
emeralds,  and  other  cameos  with  which,  since  his  elevation  to 
fortune,  the  poor  fellow  has  thought  fit  to  adorn  himself. 

"  How's  scrip,  Mr.  Jeames  ?  "  said  we  pleasantly,  greeting 
our  esteemed  contributor. 

"  Scrip  be ,"  replied  he,  with  an  expression  we  cannot 

repeat,  and  a  look  of  agony  it  is  impossible  to  describe  \\\  print, 
and  walked  about  the  parlor  whistling,  hummmg,  rattling  his 
keys  and  coppers,  and  showing  other  signs  of  agitation.  At 
last,  '■'•  Mr.  Flinch,^''  says  he,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "I 
wish  to  speak  to  you  on  a  pint  of  businiss.  I  wish  to  be  paid 
for  my  contribewtions  to  your  paper.  Suckmstances  is  altered 
with  me.  I — I — in  a  word,  can  you  lend  me  — /.  for  the  ac- 
count }  " 

He  named  the  sum.  It  was  one  so  great  that  vve  don't  care 
to  mention  it  here  ;  but  on  receiving  a  check  for  the  amount  (on 
Messrs.  Pump  and  Aldgate,  our  bankers),  tears  came  into  the 
honest  fellow's  eyes.  He  squeezed  our  hand  until  he  nearly 
wrung  it  off,  and  shouting  to  a  cab,  he  plunged  into  it  at  our 
office-door,  and  was  off  to  the  City. 

Returning  to  our  study,  we  found  he  had  left  on  our  table 
an  open  pocket-book,  of  the  contents  of  which  (for  the  sake  of 
safety)  we  took  an  inventory.  It  contained — three  tavern-bills, 
paid ;  a  tailor's  ditto,  unsettled  ;  forty-nine  allotments  in  differ- 
ent companies,  twenty-six  thousand  seven  hundred  shares  in 
all,  of  which  the  market  value  we  take,  on  average,  to  be  5^  dis- 
count ;  and  in  an  old  bit  of  paper  tied  with  pink  ribbon  a  lock 
of  chestnut  hair,  witn  the  initials  M.  A,  H, 

In  the  diary  of  the  pocket-book  was  a  journal,  jotted  down 
by  the  proprietor  from  time  to  time.     At  first  the  entries  are  in- 


92 


THE  DIAR  V  OF 


significant :  as,  for  instance  : — "  ^d  jfamiary — Our  beer  in  the 
Suvnts'  Hall  so  precious  small  at  this  Christmas  time  that  I 
reely  muss  give  warning,  &  wood,  but  for  my  clear  Mary  Hann." 
"  February  7 — That  broot  Screw,  the  Butler,  wanted  to  kis  her, 
but  my  dear  Mary  Hann  boxt  his  hold  hears,  &  served  him 
right.  I  (latest  Screw," — and  so  forth.  Then  the  diary  relates 
to  Stock  Exchange  operations,  until  we  come  to  the  time  when, 
having  achieved  his  successes,  Mr.  James  quitted  Berkeley  Square 
and  his  liver)',  and  began  his  life  as  a  speculator  and  a  gentle- 
man upon  town.  It  is  from  the  latter  part  of  his  diary  that 
we  make  the  following 

EXTRAX  :— 

"  Wen  I  anounced  in  the  Servnts  All  my  axeshn  of  forting, 
and  that  by  the  exasize  of  my  own  talince  and  ingianiuty  I  had 
reerlized  a  summ  of  20,000  lb.  (it  was  only  5,  but  what's  the 
use  of  a  mann  depreshiating  the  qualaty  of  his  own  mackyrel  .'') 
— wen  I  enounced  my  abrup  intention  to  cut — you  should  have 
sean  the  sensation  among  hall  the  people  !  Cook  wanted  to 
know  whether  I  woodn  like  a  sweatbred,  or  the  slise  of  the 
breast  of  a  Cold  Tucky.  Screw,  the  butler  (womb  I  always 
detested  as  a  hinsalant  hoverbaring  beest),  begged  me  to  walk 
into  the  Hupper  Servnts  All,  and  try  a  glass  of  Shuperior 
Shatto  Margo.  Heven  Visp,  the  coachmin,  eld  out  his  and,  & 
said,  'Jeames,  I  hopes  theres  no  quarraling  betwigst  you  & 
me,  &  I'll  stand  a  pot  of  beer  with  pleasure.' 

"  The  sickofnts  1 — that  wery  Cook  had  split  on  me  to  the 
Housekeeper  ony  last  week  (catchin  me  priggin  some  cold 
tuttle  soop,  of  which  I'm  remarkable  fond).  Has  for  the  butler, 
I  always  ebommi/iated  h\m  iox  his  precious  snears  and  imper- 
ence  to  all  us  Gents  who  woar  livry  (he  never  would  sit  in  our 
parlor,  fasooth,  nor  drink  out  of  our  mugs)  ;  and  in  regard  of 
Visp — why,  it  was  ony  the  day  before  the  wulgar  beest  hoffered 
to  fite  me,  and  thretnd  to  give  me  a  good  iding  if  I  refused. 
'Gentlemen  and  ladies,'  says  I,  as  haughty  as  may  be,  '  there's 
nothink  that  I  want  for  that  I  can't  go  for  to  buy  with  my  hown 
money,  and  take  at  my  lodgins  in  Halbany,  letter  Hex  ;  if  I'm 
ungry  I've  no  need  to  refresh  myself  in  the  kitching.^  And  so 
saying,  I  took  a  dignified  ajew  of  these  minnial  domestics  ;  and 
ascending  to  my  epartment  in  the  4  pair  back,  brushed  the 
powder  out  of  my  air,  and  taking  off  those  hojous  livries  for 
hever,  put  on  a  new  soot,  made  for  me  by  Cullin  of  St.  Jeames 
Street,  and  which  fitted  my  manly  figger  as  tight  as  whacks. 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUG  HE.  g3 

"There  was  one  pusson  in  the  house  with  womb  I  was 
rayther  anxious  to  evoid  a  persnal  leave-taking — Mary  Hann 
Oggins,  I  mean — for  my  art  is  natural  tender,  and  I  can't 
abide  seeing  a  pore  gal  in  pane.  I'd  given  her  previous  the 
infamation  of  my  departure — doing  the  ansom  thing  by  her  at 
the  same  time-— paying  her  back  20  lb.,  which  she'd  lent  me 
6  months  before  :  and  paying  her  back  not  only  the  interest, 
but  I  gave  her  an  andsome  pair  of  scissars  and  a  silver  thimbil^ 
by  way  of  boanus.  '  Mary  Hann,'  says  I,  suckimstancies  has 
altered  our  rellatif  positions  in  life.  I  quit  the  Servnts  Hall 
forever,  (for  has  for  your  marrying  a  person  in  my  rank,  that,  my 
dear,  is  hall  gam m in,)  and  so  I  wish  you  a  good-by,  my  good 
gal,  and  if  you  want  to  better  yourself,  halways  refer  to  me.' 

"  Mary  Hann  didn't  hanser  my  speech  (which  I  think  was 
remarkable  kind),  but  looked  at  me  in  the  face  quite  wild  like, 
and  bust  into  somethink  betwigst  a  laugh  &  a  cry,  and  fell 
down  with  her  ed  on  the  kitching  dresser,  where  she  lay  until 
her  young  Missis  rang  the  dressing-room  bell.  Would  you 
bleave  it .''  She  left  the  thimbil  &  things,  &  my  check  for  2olb. 
I  OS.,  on  the  tabil  when  she  went  to  hanser  the  bell.  And  now 
I  heard  her  sobbing  and  vimpering  in  her  own  room  nex  but 
one  to  mine,  vith  the  dore  open,  peraps  expecting  I  should 
come  in  and  say  good-by.  But,  as  soon  as  I  was  dressed,  I  cut 
down  stairs,  hony  desiring  Frederick,  my  fellow-servnt,  to 
fetch  me  a  cabb,  and  requesting  permission  to  take  leaf  of  my 

lady  &  the  famly  before  my  departure." 

***** 

'•  How  Miss  Hemly  did  hogle  me  to  be  sure  !  Her  ladyship 
told  me  what  a  sweet  gal  she  was — hamiable,  fond  of  poetry, 
plays  the  gitter.  Then  she  basked  me  if  I  liked  blond  bewties 
and  haubin  hair.  Haubin,  indeed  !  I  don't  like  carrits  !  as  it 
must  be  confest  Miss  Hemly's  his — and  has  for  a  blond  buty, 
she  has  pink  I's  like  a  Halbino,  and  her  face  looks  as  if  it  were 
dipt  in  a  brann  mash.  How  she  squeeged  my  &  as  she  went 
away! 

"  Mary  Hann  now  has  haubin  air,  and  a  cumplexion  like 
roses  and  hivory,  and  I's  as  blew  as  Evin. 

"  I  gev  Frederick  two  and  six  for  fetchin  the  cabb — been 
resolved  to  hact  the  gentleman  in  hall  things.    How  he  stared  !  " 

"25//;. — I  am  now  director  of  forty-seven  hadvantageous 
lines,  and  have  past  hall  day  in  the  Citty.  Although  I've  hate 
or  nine  new  soots  of  close,  and  Mr,  Cullin  fits  me  heligant,  yet 
I  fansy  they  hall  reckonize  me.  Conshns  whispers  to  me, 
'Jeams,  you'r  hony  a  footman  in  disguise  hafter  all.'  " 


94 


THE  DIARY  OF 


"  2W1. — Been  to  the  Hopra.  Music  tol  lol.  That  Lablash 
is  a  wopper  at  singing.  I  coodn  make  out  why  some  people 
called  out  '  Bravo,'  some  '  Bravar,'  and  some  '  Bravee.'  'Bra- 
vee,  Lablash,'  says  I,  at  which  heverybody  laft. 

"  I'm  in  my  new  stall.  I've  had  new  cushings  put  in,  and 
my  harms  in  goold  on  the  back.  I'm  dressed  all  in  black, 
excep  a  gold  waistcoat  and  dimind  studds  in  the  embriderd 
busom  of  my  shameese.  I  wear  a  Camallia  Jiponiky  in  my 
button-ole,  and  have  a  double-barreld  opera-glas,  so  big,  that  I 
make  Timmins,  my  secnd  man,  bring  it  in  the  other  cabb. 

"  What  an  igstronry  exabishn  that  Pawdy  Carter  is !  If 
those  four  gals  are  faries,  Tellioni  is  sutnly  the  fairy  Queend. 
She  can  do  all  that  they  can  do,  and  somethink  they  can't. 
There's  an  indiscrible  grace  about  her,  and  Carlotty,  my  sweet 
Carlotty,  she  sets  my  art  in  flams. 

"  Ow  that  Miss  Hemly  was  noddin  and  winkin  at  me  out  of 
their  box  on  the  fourth  tear  .-' 

"  What  linx  i's  she  must  av.     As  if  I  could  mount  up  there  ! 

"  P.S. — Talking  of  mounting  hup  !  the  St.  Helena's  walked 
up  4  per  cent,  this  very  day." 


"  2d  yuly. — Rode  my  bay  oss  Desperation  in  the  park. 
There  was  me,  Lord  George  Ringwood  (Lord  Cinqbar's  son), 
Lord  Ballybunnion,  Honorable  Capting  Trap,  &  sevral  bother 
young  swells.  Sir  John's  carridge  there  in  coarse.  Miss 
Hemly  lets  fall  her  booky  as  I  pass,  and  I'm  obleged  to  get  hofi 
and  pick  it  hup,  &  get  splashed  up  to  the  his.  The  gettin  on 
hossback  agin  is  halways  the  juice  &  hall.  Just  as  I  was  hon, 
Desperation  begins  a  porring  the  hair  with  his  4  feet,  and  sinks 
down  so  on  his  anches,  that  I'm  blest  if  I  didn't  slip  hoff  agin 
over  his  tail ;  at  which  Ballybunnion  &  the  bother  chaps  rord 
with  latter. 

"  As  Bally  has  istates  in  Queen's  County,  I've  put  him  on 
the  St.  Helena  direction.  We  call  it  the  '  Great  St.  Helena 
Napoleon  Junction,'  from  Jamestown  to  Longwood.  The 
French  are  taking  it  hup  heagerly." 


"  6th  yuly. — Dined  to-day  at  the  London  Tavin  with  one 
of  the  Welsh  bords  of  Direction  I'm  hon.  The  Cwrwmwrw  & 
Plrawyddlywm,  with  tunnils  through  Snowding  and  Plinlim- 
ming. 

"  Great  nashnallity  of  course.  Ap  Shinkin  in  the  chair, 
Ap  Llwydd  in  the  vice  ;  Welsh  mutton  for  dinner  ;  Welsh  iroT 
knives  &  forks ;   Welsh    rabbit   after   dinner--   and  a  Wek^ 


C.  JEAMES  DELA  PLUG  HE.  ^^ 

harper,  be  hanged  to  him  :  he  went  strummint  on  his  hojous 
hinstrument,  and  played  a  toon  piguliarly  disagreeable  to  me< 

"  It  was  Pore  Mary  Hami.  The  clarrit  holmost  choaked 
me  as  I  tried  it,  and  I  very  nearly  wep  myself  as  I  thought  of 
her  bewtifle  blue  i's.  Why  ham  I  always  thinkin  about  that 
gal  ?  Sasiety  is  sasiety,  it's  lors  is  irresistabl.  Has  a  man  of 
rank  I  can't  marry  a  serving-made.  What  would  Cinqbar  and 
Ballybunnion  say  ? 

"  P.  S. — I  don't  like  the  way  that  Cinqbars  has  of  borroing 
money,  &  halways  making  me  pay  the  bill.  Seven  pound  six 
at  the  '  Shipp,'  Grinnidge,  which  I  don't  grudge  it,  for  Derby- 
shire's brown  Ock  is  the  best  in  Urup  ;  nine  pound  three  at 
the  '  Trafifiygar,'  and  seventeen  pound  sixteen  and  nine  at  the 
'Star  and  Garter,'  Richmond,  with  the  Countess  St.  Emilion 
&  the  Baroness  Frontignac.  Not  one  word  of  French  could  I 
speak,  and  in  consquince  had  nothink  to  do  but  to  make  myself 
halmost  sick  with  heating  hices  and  desert,  while  the  bothers 
were  chattering  and  parlyvooing. 

"  Ha !  I  remember  going  to  Grinnidge  once  with  Mary 
Hann,  when  we  were  more  happy  (after  a  walk  in  the  park, 
where  we  ad  one  gingybeer  betwigst  us),  more  appy  with  tea 
and  a  simple  srimp  than  with  hall  this  splender  ! " 


"  yuly  24. — My  first-floor  apartmince  in  the  Halbiny  is  now 
kimpletely  and  chasely  furnished — the  droring-room  with  yellow 
satting  and  silver  for  the  chairs  and  sophies — hemrall  green 
tabbinet  curtings  with  pink  velvet  &  goold  borders  &  fringes  ; 
a  light-blue  Haxminster  Carpit,  embroydered  with  tulips ; 
tables,  secritairs,  cunsoles,  &c.,  as  handsome  as  goold  can 
make  them,  and  candlesticks  and  shandalers  of  the  purest 
Hormolew. 

"  The  Dining-room  furniture  is  all  hoak^  British  Hoak ; 
round  igspanding  table,  like  a  trick  in  a  Pantimime,  iccomma- 
dating  any  number  from  8  to  24 — to  which  it  is  my  wish  to  re- 
strict my  parties.  Curtings  crimsing  damask,  Chairs  crimsing 
myrocky.  Portricks  of  my  favorite  great  men  decorats  the 
wall — namely,  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  There's  four  of  his 
Grace,  For  I've  remarked  that  if  you  wish  to  pass  for  a  man  of 
weight  and  considdration  3'ou  should  holways  praise  and  quote 
him.  I  have  a  valluble  one  lickwise  of  my  Queend,  and  2  of 
Prince  Halbert — has  a  Field  Martial  and  halso  as  a  privat  Gent. 
I  despise  the  vuKar  snears  that  are  daily  hullered  aginst  that 
Igsolted  Pottcntat.     Betwigxt  '"'e  Prins  &  the  Duke  hangs  me, 


9 6  THE  DIARY  OF 

in  the  Uniform  of  the  Cinqbar  Malitia,  of  which  Cinqbars  has 
made  me  Cap  ting. 

"  The  Libery  is  not  yet  done. 

"  But  the  Bedd-roomb  is  the  Jem  of  the  whole.  If  you 
could  but  see  it !  such  a  Bedworr  !  I've  a  Shyval  Dressing 
Glass  festooned  with  Walanseens  Lace,  and  lighted  up  of  even- 
ings with  rose-colored  tapers.  Goold  dressing-case  and  twilet 
of  Dresding  Cheny.  My  bed  white  and  gold  with  curtings  of 
pink  and  silver  brocayd  held  up  a  top  by  a  goold  Qpid  who 
seems  always  a  smilin  angillicly  hon  me,  as  I  lay  with  my  Ed 
on  my  j^iller  hall  sarounded  with  the  finest  Mechlin.  I  have  a 
own  man,  a  yuth  under  him,  2  groombs,  and  a  fimmale  for  the 
House.  I've  7  osses  :  in  cors  if  I  hunt  this  winter  I  must  in- 
crease my  ixtablishment. 

"  N.B.  Heverythink  looking  well  in  the  City.  Saint  Hel- 
nas,  12  pm.  ;  Madagascars,  9^^  ;  Saffron  Hill  and  Rookery 
Junction,  24  ;  and  the  new  lines  in  prospick  equily  incouraging. 


"  People  phansy  it's  hall  gayety  and  pleasure  the  life  of  us 
fashnabble  gents  about  townd — But  I  can  tell  'em  it's  not  hall 
goold  that  glitters.  They  don't  know  our  momints  of  hagony, 
hour  ours  of  studdy  and  reflecshun.  They  little  think  vvhen 
they  see  Jeames  de  la  Pluche,  Exquire,  worling  round  in  a 
walce  at  Halmax  with  Lady  Hann,  or  lazaly  stepping  a  kidrill 
with  Lady  Jane,  poring  helegant  nothinx  into  the  Countess's 
hear  at  dinner,  or  gallopin  his  boss  Desperation  hover  the 
exorcisin  ground  in  the  park, — they  little  think  that  leader  of 
the  tong,  seaminkly  so  reckliss,  is  a  careworn  mann  !  and  yet 
so  it  is. 

"  Imprymus.  I've  been  ableged  to  get  up  all  the  ecoin- 
plishmeiits  at  double  quick,  «Si  to  apply  myself  with  treemen- 
juous  energy. 

"  First, — in  border  to  give  myself  a  hideer  of  what  a  gentle- 
man reely  is,  I've  read  the  novvle  of  '  Pelham  '  six  times,  and 
am  to  go  through  it  4  times  mor. 

"  I  practis  ridin  and  the  acquirement  of  '  a  steady  and  &  a 
sure  seat  across  Country'  assijuously  4  times  a  week,  at  the 
Hippydrum  Riding  Grounds.  Many's  the  tumbil  I've  ad,  and 
the  aking  boans  I've  suffered  from,  though  I  was  grinnin  in  the 
Park  or  laftin  at  the  Opra. 

"  Every  morning  from  6  till  9,  the  innabitance  of  lialbany 
may  have  been  surprised  to  hear  the  sounds  of  music  ishuing 
from  the  apartmince  of  Jeames  de  la  Pluche,  Exquire,  Letter 
Hex.      It's  my  dancing-master.      From  six  to  nine  v.e  i^pve 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  ^y 

walces  ana  policies — at  nine  '  mangtiang  &  depotment,'  as  he 
calls  it ;  &  the  manner  of  hentering  a  room,  complimenting  the 
ost  and  ostess  &  compotting  yourself  at  table.  At  nine  I  hen- 
ter  from  my  dressing-room  (has  to  a  party),  I  make  my  bow — - 
my  master  (he's  a  Marquis  in  France,  and  ad  misfortins,  being 
connected  with  young  Lewy  Nepoleum)  reseaves  me — I  had- 
wance — speak  abowt  the  weather  &  the  toppix  of  the  day  in  an 
elegant  &  cussory  manner.  Erekfst  is  enounced  by  Fitzwar- 
ren,  my  mann — we  precede  to  the  festive  bord — complimence 
is  igschanged  with  the  manner  of  drinking  wind,  adressing 
your  neighbor,  employing  your  napking  &  finger-glas,  &c.  And 
then  we  fall  to  brekfst,  when  I  prommiss  you  the  Marquis  don't 
eat  like  a  commoner.  He  says  Fm  gettn  on  very  well — soon  I 
shall  be  able  to  inwite  people  to  brekfst,  like  Mr.  Mills,  my 
rivle  in  Halbany  ;  Mr.  Macauly,  (who  wrote  that  sweet  book 
of  ballets,  '  The  Lays  of  Hancient  Rum  ; ')  &  the  great  Mr. 
Rodgers  himself. 

"  The  above  was  wrote  some  weeks  back,  I  have  given 
brekfsts  sins  then,  reglar  Deskunys.  I  have  ad  Earls  and 
Vcounts — Barnits  as  many  as  I  chose  :  and  the  pick  of  the 
Railway  world,  of  which  I  form  a  member.  Last  Sunday  was 
a  grand  Fate.  I  had  the  jEkcf  of  my  friends  :  the  display  was 
sumptions  ;  the  company  reshers/iy.  Everything  that  Dellixy 
could  suggest  was  provided  by  Gunter.  I  had  a  Countiss  oil 
my  right  &  (the  Countess  of  Wigglesbury,  that  loveliest  and 
most  dashing  of   Staggs,  who  may    be    called    the    Railway 

Queend,  as  my  friend  George  H is  the  Railway  King,)  on 

my  left  the  Lady  Blanche  Bluenose,  Prince  Towrowski,  the 
great  Sir  Huddlestone  Fuddlestone  from  the  North,  and  a 
skoar  of  the  fust  of  the  fashn.  I  was  in  my  gloary — th-e  dear 
Countess  and  Lady  Blanche  was  dying  with  laffing  at  my  joax 
and  fun — I  was  keeping  the  whole  table  in  a  roar — when  there 
came  a  ring  at  my  door-bell,  and  sudnly  Fitzwarren,  my  man, 
henters  with  an  air  of  constanation.  Theres  somebody  at  the 
door,'  says  he,  in  a  visper. 

"'Oh,  it's  -that  dear  Lady  Hemily,'  says  I,  'and  that  lazy 
raskle  of  a  husband  of  hers.  Trot  them  in,  Fitzwarren,'  (for 
you  see,  by  this  time  I  had  adopted  quit€  the  manners  and 
hease  of  the  arristoxy.) — And  so,  going  out,  with  a  look  of 
wonder  he  returned  presently,  enouncing  Mr.  &  Mrs.  Blodder. 

"  I  turned  gashly  pail.  The  table — the  guests — the  Coun- 
tiss— Towrouski,  and  the  rest,  weald  round  &  round  before  my 
tm^ilatecl  Fs.     If  was  my  Graiidmofher  a!id\\\\\\c\Q.^A\.     Sh<5 


^8  THE  DIAR  Y  OF 

is  a  washerwoman  at  Healing  Common,  and  he — he  keeps  3 
wegetable  donkey-cart. 

"Y,  Y  hadn't  John,  the  tiger,  igscluded  them?  He  had 
tried.  But  the  unconscious,  though  worthy  creeters,  adwanced 
in  spite  of  him,  Huncle  Bill  bringing  in  the  old  lady  grinning 
on  his  harm  ! 

"  Phansy  my  feelinx." 


"^  Immagin  when  these  unfortnat  members  of  my  famly 
Centered  the  room  :  you  may  phansy  the  ixtonnishment  of  the 
nobil  company  presnt.  Old  Grann  looked  round  the  room 
quite  estounded  by  its  horientle  splender,  and  huncle  Bill  (pull- 
ing off  his  phantail,  &  seluting  the  company  as  respeckfly  as  his 
wulgar  natur  would  alow)  says — '^ Crikey,  Jeames,  you've  got  a 
better  birth  here  than  you  ad  where  you  were  in  the  plush  and 
powder  line,'  'Try  a  few  of  them  plovers  hegs^  sir,'  I  says, 
whishing,^  I'm  asheamed  to  say,  that  somethink   would  choke 

huncle  B ;  '  and  I  hope,  mam,  now  you've  ad  the  kindniss 

to  wisit  me,  a  little  refreshment  won't  be  out  of  your  way.' 

"This  I  said,  detinnmind  to  put  a  good  fase  on  the  matter; 
and  because  in  herly  times  I'd  reseaved  a  great  deal  of  kindniss 
from  the  hold  lady,  which  I  should  be  a  roag  to  forgit.  She 
paid  for  my  schooling ;  she  got  up  my  fine  linning  gratis  ;  shes 
given  me  many  &  many  a  lb  ;  and  manys  the  time  in  appy  appy 
days  when  me  and  Maryhann  has  taken  tea.  But  never  mind 
that.     '  Mam,'  says  I,  'you  must  be  tired  hafter  your  walk.' 

"'Walk?  Nonsince,  Jeames,' says  she;  'it's  Saturday,  & 
I  came  in,  in  the  cart'  '  Black  or  green  tea,  maam  ?  '  says  Fitz- 
warren,  intarupting  her.  And  I  will  say  the  feller  showed  hi& 
nouce  &  good  breeding  in  this  difficklt  momink ;  for  he'd  hal- 
ready  silenced  huncle  Bill,  whose  mouth  was  now  full  of 
muffinx,  am,  Blovvny  sausag,  Perrigole  pie,  and  other  dellixies. 

"'Wouldn't  you  like  a  \\\.\Xg.  somethink  in  your  tea,  Mam,' 
says  that  sly  wagg  Cinqbars.  '  He  knows  what  I  likes,'  replies 
the  hawfle  hold  Lady,  pinting  tome,  (which  I  knew  it  very  well, 
having  often  seen  her  take  a  glass  of  hojous  gin  along  with  her 
Bohee),  and  so  I  was  ableeged  to  border  Fitzwarren  to  bring 
round  the  licures,  and  to  help  my  unfortnit  rellatif  to  a  bumper 
of  Ollands.  She  tost  it  hoff  to  the  elth  of  the  company,  giving 
a  smack  with  her  lipps  after  she'd  emtied  the  glas,  which  very 
nearly  caused  me  to  phaint  with  hagny.  But,  luckaly  for  me, 
she  didn't  igspose  herself  much  farther :  for  when  Cinqbars  was 
pressing  her  to  take  another  glas,  I  cried  out,  'Don't,  my  lord,' 
on  which  old  Grann  hearing  him  edressed  by  his  title,  cried 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUG  HE.  gg 

out,  *  A  Lord  !  o  law  ! '  and  got  up  and  made  him  a  cutsy,  and 
coodnt  be  peswaded  to  speak  another  word.  The  presents  of 
the  noble  gent  heavidently  made  her  uneezy. 

"  The  Countiss  on  my  right  and  had  shownt  symtms  of 
ixtream  disgust  at  the  bea3'vior  of  my  relations,  and  having 
called  for  her  carridge,  got  up  to  leave  the  room,  with  the  most 
dignified  hair.  I,  of  coarse,  rose  to  conduct  her  to  her  weakle. 
Ah,  what  a  contrast  it  was  !  There  it  stood,  with  stars  and 
garters  hall  over  the  pannels  ;  the  footmin  in  peach-colored 
tites  ;  the  hosses  worth  3  hundred  apiece  ; — and  there  stood 
the  horried  llivicn-cart^  with  '  Mary  Blodder,  Laundress,  Ealing, 
Middlesex,'  wrote  on  the  bord,  and  waiting  till  my  abandind  old 
parint  should  come  out. 

"  Cinqbars  insisted  upon  helping  her  in.  Sir  Huddlestone 
Fuddlestone,  the  great  barnet  from  the  North,  who,  great  as  he 
is,  is  as  stewpid  as  a  howl,  looked  on,  hardly  trusting  his 
goggle  I's  as  they  witnessed  the  sean.  But  little  lively  good 
naterd  Lady  Kitty  Quickset,  who  was  going  away  with  the 
Countiss,  held  her  little  &  out  of  the  carridge  to  me  and  said, 
'  Mr.  De  la  Pluche,  you  are  a  much  better  man  than  I  took  you 
to  be.  Though  her  Ladyship  is  horrified,  &  though  your 
Grandmother  did  take  gin  for  breakfast,  don't  give  her  up.  No 
one  ever  came  to  harm  yet  for  honoring  their  father  &  mother.' 

"  And  this  was  a  sort  of  consolation  to  me,  and  I  observed 
that  all  the  good  fellers  thought  none  the  wuss  of  me.  Cinq- 
bars said  I  was  a  trump  for  sticking  up  for  the  old  washer- 
woman ;  Lord  George  Gills  said  she  should  have  his  linning  ; 
and  so  they  cut  their  joax,  and  I  let  them.  But  it  was  a  great 
releaf  to  my  mind  when  the  cart  drove  hoff. 

"  There  was  one  pint  which  my  Grandmother  observed,  and 
which,  I  must  say,  I  thought  lickwise  :  '  Ho,  Jeames,'  says  she, 
'hall  those  fine  ladies  in  sattns  and  velvets  is  very  well,  but 
there's  not  one  of  em  can  hold  a  candle  to  Mary  Hann.'  " 


"  Railway  Spec  is  going  on  phamusly.  You  should  see  how 
polite  they  har  at  my  bankers  now  !  Sir  Paul  Pump  Aldgate, 
&  Company.  They  bow  me  out  of  the  back  parlor  as  if  I  was 
a  Nybobb.  Every  body  says  I'm  worth  half  a  millium.  The 
number  of  lines  they're  putting  me  upon,  is  inkumseavable. 
I've  put  Fitzwarren,  my  man,  upon  several.  Riginald  Fitz- 
warren,  Esquire,  looks  splendid  in  a  perspectus  ;  and  the  raskle 
owns  that  he  has  made  two  thowsnd. 

_"  How  the  ladies,  &  men  too,  toiler  and  flatter  me  !  If  I 
go  into  Lady  Binsis  hopra  box,  she  makes  room  for  me,  who 


lOO  THE  DIARY  OF 

ever  is  there,  and  cries  out,  '  O  do  make  room  for  that  dear 
creature  .' '  And  she  complyments  me  on  my  taste  in  musick, 
or  my  new  Broom-os,  or  the  phansy  of  my  weskit,  and  always 
ends  by  asking  me  for  some  shares.  Old  Lord  Bareacres,  as 
stiff  as  a  poaker,  as  proud  as  Loosyfer,  as  poor  as  Joab — even 
he  condysends  to  be  sivvle  to  the  great  De  la  Pluche,  and 
begged  me  at  Harthur's,  lately,  in  his  sollom,  pompus  way,  '  to 
favor  him  with  five  minutes'  conversation.'  1  knew  what  was 
coming — application  for  shares — put  him  down  on  my  private 
list.  Wouldn't  mind  the  Scrag  End  Junction  passing  through 
Bareacres — hoped  I'd  come  down  and  shoot  there. 

"  I  gave  the  old  humbugg  a  few  shares  out  of  my  own 
pocket.  'There,  old  Pride,'  says  I,  '  I  like  to  see  you  down  on 
your  knees  to  a  footman.  There,  old  Pompossaty  !  Take  fifty 
pound  ;  I  like  to  see  you  come  cringing  and  begging  for  it.' 
Whenever  I  see  him  in  a  very  public  place,  I  take  my  change 
for  my  money.  I  digg  him  in  the  ribbs,  or  slap  his  padded  old 
shoulders.  I  call  him  '  Bareacres,  my  old  buck  ! '  and  1  see 
him  wince.     It  does  my  art  good. 

"  I'm  in  low  sperits.  A  disagreeable  insadent  has  just  oc- 
curred. Lady  Pump,  the  banker's  wife,  asked  me  to  dinner.  I 
sat  on  her  right,  of  course,  with  an  uncommon  gal  ner  me,  with 
whom  I  was  getting  on  in  my  fassanating  way — full  of  lacy  ally 
(as  the  Marquis  says)  and  easy  plesntry.  Old  Pump,  from  the 
end  of  the  table,  asked  me  to  drink  shampane  ;  and  on  turning 
to  tak  the  glass  I  saw  Charles  Wackles  (with  womb  I'd  been 
imployed  at  Colonel  Spurriers'  house)  grinning  over  his  shoulder 
at  the  butler. 

"  The  beest  reckonized  me.  Has  I  was  putting  on  my  palto 
in  the  hall,  he  came  up  again  :  '  How  dy  doo,  Jeames  ? '  says 
he,  in  a  findish  visper.  '  Just  come  out  here,  Chawles,'  says  I, 
*  I've  a  word  for  you,  my  old  boy.'  So  I  beckoned  him  into 
Portland  Place,  with  my  pus  in  my  hand,  as  if  I  was  going  to 
give  him  a  sovaring. 

"  '  I  think  you  said  "  Jeames,"  Chawles,'  says  I,  '  and  grind 
at  me  at  dinner .?  " 

" '  Why,  sir,'  says  he,  '  we're  old  friends,  you  know.' 

"  '  Take  that  for  old  friendship  then,'  says  I,  and  I  gave  him 
just  one  on  the  noas,  which  sent  him  down  on  the  pavemint  as 
if  he'd  been  shot.  And  mounting  myjesticly  into  my  cabb,  I 
left  the  rest  of  the  grinning  scoundrills  to  pick  him  up,  &  droav 
to  the  Clubb." 


"  Have   this  doy  kimpleated   a  little  efair   with   my  friend 


,  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUG  HE.  lOI 

George,  Earl  Bareacres,  which  I  trust  will  be  to  the  advantidge 
both  of  self  &  that  noble  gent.  Adjining  the  Bareacre  prop- 
paty  is  a  small  piece  of  land  of  about  loo  acres,  called  Squallop 
Hill,  igseeding  advantageous  for  the  cultivation  of  sheep,  which 
have  been  found  to  have  a  pickewlear  fine  flavior  from  the  natur 
of  the  grass,  tyme,  heather,  and  other  hodarefarus  plants  which 
grows  on  that  mounting  in  the  places  where  the  rox  and  stones 
don't  jDrevent  them.  Thistles  here  is  also  remarkable  fine,  and 
the  land  is  also  divided  hoff  by  luxurient  Stone  Hedges — much 
more  usefle  and  ickonomicle  than  your  quickset  or  any  of  that 
rubbishing  sort  of  timber  :  indeed  the  sile  is  of  that  fine  natur, 
that  timber  refuses  to  grow  there  altogether.  I  gave  Bareacres 
50/.  an  acre  for  this  land  (igsact  premium  of  my  St.  Helena 
Shares) — a  very  handsom  price  for  land  which  never  yielded 
two  shilings  an  acre  ;  and  very  convenient  to  his  Lordship  I 
know,  who  had  a  bill  coming  due  at  his  Bankers  which  he  had 
given  them.  James  de  la  Pluche,  Esquire,  is  thus  for  the  fust 
time  a  landed  propriator — or  rayther,  I  should  say,  is  about  to 
reshume  the  lank  &  dignity  in  the  country  which  his  Han- 
cestors  so  long  occupied." 

"  I  have  caused  one  of  our  inginears  to  make  me  a  plann  of 
the  Squallop  Estate,  Diddlesexshire,  the  property  of,  &c.,  &c.^ 
bordered  on  the  North  by  Lord  Bareacres'  Country  ;  on  the 
West  by  Sir  Granby  Growler ;  on  the  South  by  the  Hotion. 
An  Arkytect  &  Survare,  a  young  feller  of  great  emagination, 
womb  we  have  employed  to  make  a  survey  of  the  Great  Caft'ra- 
rian  line,  has  built  me  a  beautiful  Villar  (on  paper),  Plushton 
Hall,  Diddlesex,  the  seat  of  I  de  la  P.,  Esquire.  The  house 
is  reprasented  a  handsome  Itallian  Structer,  imbusmd  in  woods, 
and  circumwented  by  beautiful  gardings.  Theres  a  lake  in 
front  with  boatsful  of  nobillaty  and  musitions  floting  on  its 
placid  sufface — and  a  curricle  is  a  driving  up  to  the  grand  hen- 
trance,  and  me  in  it,  with  Mrs.,  or  perhaps  Lady  Hangelana  de 
la  Pluche.  I  speak  adwisedly.  I  fiiay  be  going  to  form  a  noble 
kinexion.  I  may  be  (by  marridge)  going  to  unight  my  family 
once  more  with  Harrystoxy,  from  which  misfortn  has  for  some 
sentries  separated  us.     I  have  dreams  of  that  sort. 

"I've  sean  sevral  times  in  a  dalitifle  vishn  t?  serting Erl, 
standing  in  a  hattitude  of  bennydiction,  and  rattafying  my 
union  with  a  serting  butifle  young  lady,  his  daughter.  Phansy 
Mr.  or  Sir  Jeames  and  lady  Hangelina  de  la  Pluche  !  Ho  ! 
what  will  the  old  washywoman,  my  grandmother,  say  ?  She 
may  sell  her  mangle  then,  and  shall  too  by  my  honor  as  a 
Gent." 


I02  THE  DIARY  OF 

"As  for  Squallop  Hill,  its  not  to  be  emadgind  that  I  was 
going  to  give  5000  lb.  for  a  bleak  mounting  like  that,  unless  I 
had  some  ideer  in  vew.  Ham  I  not  a  Director  of  the  Grand 
Diddlesex  ?  Don't  Squallop  lie  amediately  betwigst  Old  Bone 
House,  Single  Gloster,  and  Scrag  End,  through  which  cities 
our  line  passes  ?  I  will  have  400,000  lb.  for  that  mounting,  or 
my  name  is  not  Jeames.  I  have  arranged  a  little  barging  too 
for  my  friend  the  Erl,  The  line  will  pass  through  a  bangle  of 
Bareacre  Park.  He  shall  have  a  good  compensation  I  promis 
you  ;  and  then  I  shall  get  back  the  3000  I  lent  him.  His 
banker's  account,  I  fear,  is  in  a  horrid  state." 

[The  Diary  now  for  several  days  contains  particulars  of  no 
interest  to  the  public  : — Memoranda  of  City  dinners 
— meetings  of  Directors — fashionable  parties  in  which 
Mr.  Jeames  figures,  and  nearly  always  by  the  side  of 
his  new  friend,  Lord  Bareacres,  whose  "  pompossaty," 
as  previously  described,  seems  to  have  almost  entirely 
subsided.] 

We  then  come  to  the  following  : — 

"  With  a  prowd  and  thankfle  Art,  I  copy  off  this  morning's 
Gyzett  the  folloing  news  : — 

*' '  Commission  signed  by  the  Lord  Lieutenant  of  the  County 

of  Diddlesex. 
"  *  James  Augustus,  de  la  Pluche,  Esquire,  to  be  Deputy 

Lieutenant.'  " 


" '  North  Diddlesex  Regiment  of  Yeomanry  Cavalry. 
" '  James  Augustus  de  la  Pluche,  Esquire,  to  be  Captain, 
vice  Blowhard,  promoted.'  " 


"  And  his  it  so  ?  Ham  I  indeed  a  landed  propriator — a 
Deppaty  Leftnant — a  Capting?  May  I  hatend  the  Cort  of  my 
Sovring  ?  and  dror  a  sayber  in  my  countiy's  defens  .-•  I  w'ish 
the  French  wood  land,  and  me  at  the  head  of  my  squadring  on 
my  boss  Desperation.  How  I'd  extonish  'em  !  How  the  gals 
will  stare  when  they  see  me  in  youniform  ?  How  Mary  Hann 
would — but  nonsince  !  I'm  halways  thinking  of  that  pore  gal. 
She's  left  Sir  John's.  She  couldn't  abear  to  stay  after  I  went, 
I've  heerd  say.  I  hope  she's  got  a  good  place.  Any  summ  of 
money  that  would  sett  her  up  in  bisniss,  or  make  her  comfar- 


C.  JRAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  103 

able,  I'd  come  down  with  like  a  maun.  I  told  my  granraother 
so,  who  sees  her,  and  rode  down  to  Healing  on  purpose  oa 
Desperation  to  leave  a  five  lb  noat  in  an  anvylope.  But  she 
sent  it  back,  sealed  with  a  thimbilL'"' 


"  Tuesday, — Reseavd  the  folloing  letter  from  Lord  B , 

rellatiff  to  my  presntation  at  Cort  and  the  Youniform  I  sliali 
wear  on  that  hospicious  seramony  : — 
*' '  My  dear  De  la  Pluche, 

u  i  J  THINK  you  had  better  be  presented  as  a  Deputy 
Lieutenant.  As  for  the  Diddlesex  Yeomanry,  I  liardly  know 
what  the  uniform  is  now.  The  last  time  we  were  out  was  in 
1803,  when  the  Prince  of  Wales  reviewed  us,  and  when  we 
wore  French  gray  jackets,  leathers,  red  morocco  boots,  crimson 
pelisses,  brass  helmets  with  leopard-skin  and  a  wliite  plume, 
and  the  regulation  pig-tail  of  eighteen  inches,  Tliat  dress 
will  hardly  answer  at  present,  and  must  be  modified,  of  course^ 
We  were  called  the  White  Feathers,  in  tliose  days.  For  my 
part,  I  decidedly  recommend  the  Deputy  Lieutenant. 

" '  I  shall  be  happy  to  present  you  at  the  Levee  and  at  the 
Drawing-room.  Lady  Bareacres  will  be  in  town  for  the  13th, 
with  Angelina,  who  will  be  presented  on  that  day.  My  wife 
has  heard  much  of  you,  .and  is  anxious  to  make  your  acquaint- 
ance. 

" '  All  m.y  people  are  backward  with  their  rents  :  for  heaven's 
sake,  my  dear  fellow,  lend  me  five  hundred  and  oblige 
*^ '  Yours,  very  gratefully, 

"  ^  Bareacres.' 

"  Note. — Bareacres  may  press  me  about  the  Depity  Left- 
aiant ;  but  /'m  for  rhe  cavvkry." 


"  Jewly  will  always  be  a  sacrid  anniwussary  with  me.  It 
was  in  that  month  that  I  became  persnally  ecquaintid  with  my 
Prins  and  my  gracious  Sovarink. 

"  Long  before  the  hospitious  event  acurd,  you  may  imadgin 
that  my  busum  was  in  no  trifling  flutter.  Sleaplis  of  nights,  I 
past  them  thinking  of  the  great  ewent — or  if  igsosted  natur 
///-'/ clothes  my  highlids — the  eyedear  of  my  waking  thoughts 
pevaded  my  slummers.  Corts,  Erls,  presntations,  Goldstix, 
gracious  Sovarinx  mengling  in  my  dreembs  unceasnly.  I  blush 
to  say  it  (for  humin  prisumpshn  never  surely  igseeded  that  of 
rmy  wicked  wickid  vishn),  one  night  I  actially  dremt  that  Her 
^.  H.  the  Princess  Hallis  was  ^rown  up,  and  that  there  was   * 


104 


THE  DIAR  Y  OF 


Cabinit  Counsel  to  detummin  whether  her  &  was  to  be  bestead 
on  me  or  the  Prins  of  Sax-Muffinhausen-Pumpenstein,  a  young 
Prooshn  or  Germing  zion  of  nobillaty.  I  ask  umly  parding 
for  this  hordacious  ideer. 

"  I  said,  in  my  fommer  remarx,  that  I  had  detummined  to 
be  presented  to  the  notus  of  my  reveared  Sovaring  in  a  melin- 
•■iiry  coschewm.  The  Court-shoots  in  which  Sivillians  attend 
a  Levy  are  so  uncomming  Uke  the — the — livries  (ojous  wud  !  I 
8  to  put  it  down)  I  used  to  wear  before  entermg  sosiaty,  that  I 
couldn't  abide  the  notium  of  wearing  one.  My  detuminination 
was  fumly  fixt  to  apeer  as  a  Yominry  Cavilry  Hofifiser,  in  the 
galleant  youniform  of  the  North  Diddlesex  Huzzas. 

"  Has  that  redgmint  had  not  been  out  sins  1S03,  I  thought 
myself  quite  hotherized  to  make  such  halterations  in  the  youni- 
form as  shuited  the  presnt  time  and  my  metured  and  elygiut 
taste.  Pig-tales  was  out  of  the  question.  Tites  I  was  detum- 
mind  to  mintain.  My  legg  is  praps  the  finist  pint  about  me, 
and  I  was  risolved  not  to  hide  it  under  a  booshle. 

"  I  phixt  on  scarlit  tites,  then,  imbridered  with  goold,  as  I 
have  seen  Widdicomb  wear  them  at  Hashleys  when  me  and 
Mary  Hann  used  to  go  there.  Ninet3'-six  guineas  worth  of  rich 
goold  lace  and  cord  did  I  have  myhandering  hall  hover  those 
shoperb  inagspressables. 

"  Yellow  marocky  Heshn  boots,  red  eels,  goold  spurs  and 
goold  tassles  as  bigg  as  belpulls. 

"  Jackit — French  gray  and  silver  oringe  fasings  &  cuphs, 
according  to  the  old  patn  ;  belt,  green  and  goold,  tight  round 
my  pusn,  &  settin  hoff  the  cemetry  of  my  figgar  not  disadvin- 
tajusly. 

"  A  huzza  paleese  of  pupple  velvit  &  sable  fir.  A  sayber  of 
Demaskus  steal,  and  a  sabertash  (in  which  I  kep  my  Odiclone 
and  imbridered  pocket  ankercher),  kimpleat  my  acooterments, 
which,  without  vannaty,  was,  I  flatter  myself,  mieak. 

"But  the  crownding  triumph  was  my  hat.  I  couldnt  wear  a 
cock  At.  The  huzzahs  dont  use  'era.  I  wouldnt  wear  the 
hojous  old  brass  Elmet  &  Leppardskin.  I  choas  a  hat  v/hich  is 
dear  to  the  memry  of  hevery  Brittn  ;  an  at  which  was  inwented 
by  my  Feeld  Marshle  and  adord  Prins ;  an  At  which  vulgar 
prejidis  &>  Soaking h^s  in  vane  etempted  to  run  down.  I  chose 
the  Halbert  At.  I  didn't  tell  Bareacres  of  this  egsabishn  of 
loilty,  intending  to  surprise  him.  The  white  ploom  of  the  West 
Diddlesex  Yomingry  I  fixt  on  the  topp  of  this  Shacko,  where  it 
spread  hout  like  a  shaving-brush. 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  befor  the  fatle  day  arrived,  I  didnt 


■   MV   GRANMOTHER    HASNT   SEEN    ME   IN    FULL   PIIIGG,"   SAYS   1. 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUG  HE.  x^ 

niglect  to  practus  my  part  well :  and  had  sevral  rehusttes,  as 
they  say. 

"  This  was  the  way.  I  used  to  dress  myself  in  my  full  togs. 
I  made  Fitzwarren,  my  boddy  servnt,  stand  at  the  dor,  and 
figger  as  the  Lord  in  Waiting.  I  put  Mrs.  Bloker,  my  laun^ 
dress,  in  my  grand  harm  chair  to  reprasent  the  horgust  pusn  of 
my  Sovring;  Frederick,  my  secknd  man,  standing  on  her  left, 
in  the  hattatude  of  an  illustrus  Prins  Consort.  Hall  the  Candles 
were  lighted.  '  Captain  de  la  Fluc/ie,  presented  by  Heti  Bare- 
acres,'  Fitzwarren,  my  man,  igsclaimed,  as  adwancing  I  made 
obasins  to  the  Thrown.  Nealin  on  one  nee,  I  cast  a  glans  of 
unhuttarable  loilty  towards  the  British  Crownd,  then  stepping 
gracefully  hup,  (my  Dimascus  Simiter  tvould  git  betwigst  my 
ligs,  in  so  doink,  which  at  fust  was  wery  disagreeble) — rising 
hup  grasefly,  I  say,  I  flung  a  look  of  manly  but  respeckfl  hom- 
mitch  tords  my  Prins,  and  then  ellygntly  ritreated  backards  out 
of  the  Roil  Presents.  I  kep  my  4  suvnts  hup  for  4  hours  at 
this  gaym  the  night  before  my  presntation,  and  yet  I  was  the 
fust  to  be  hup  with  the  sun  rice.  I  coodnt  sleep  that  night.  By 
abowt  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  was  drest  in  my  full  uni- 
form  J  and  I  didnt  know  how  to  pass  the  interveaning  hours. 

"  '  My  Granmother  hasnt  seen  me  in  full  phigg,'  says  I. 
*  It  will  rejoice  that  pore  old  sole  to  behold  one  of  her  race  so 
suxesfle  in  life.  Has  I  ave  read  in  the  novle  of  "  Kennle- 
worth,"  that  the  Herl  goes  down  in  Cort  dress  and  extoneshes 
Hajny  Robsart,  I  will  go  down  in  all  my  splender  and  astownd 
my  old  washywoman  of  a  Granmother.'  To  make  this  detum- 
mination  ;  to  border  my  Broom  ;  to  knock  down  Frederick  the 
groomb  for  delaying  to  bring  it;  was  with  me  the  wuck  of  a 
momint.  The  next  sor  as  galliant  a  cavyleer  as  hever  rode  in 
a  cabb,  skowering  the  road  to  Healing. 

"  I  arrived  at  the  well-known  cottitch.  My  huncle  was  hab- 
sent  with  the  cart ;  but  the  dor  of  the  humble  eboad  stood 
hopen,  and  I  passed  through  the  little  garding  where  the  close 
was  hanging  out  to  dry.  My  snowy  ploom  was  ableeged  to 
bend  under  the  lowly  porch,  as  I  hentered  the  apartmint. 

"  There  was  a  smell  of  tea  there — there's  always  a  smell  of 
tea  there — the  old  lady  was  at  her  Bohee  as  usual.  I  advanced 
toras  her ;  but  ha  !  phansy  my  extonishment  when  I  sor  Mary 
Hann  ! 

"  I  halmost  faintid  with  himotion.  '  Ho,  Jeames  1 '  (she  has 
said  to  me  subsquintly)  'mortial  mann  never  looked  so  bewtifle 
as  you  did  when  you  arrived  on  the  day  of  the  Levy.  You  were 
no  longer  mortial,  you  were  diwine  ! ' 


io6  THE  DIARY  OF 

"  R  !  what  little  Justas  the  Hartist  has  done  to  my  mannly 

etractions  in  the  groce  carril<.eture  he's  made  of  me." 

*  ^     *  *  *  * 

"  Nothing,  perhaps,  ever  created  so  great  a  sensashun  as  my 
hentrance  to  St.  Jeames's,  on  the  day  of  the  Levy.  The  Tuckish 
Hambasdor  himself  was  not  so  much  remarked  as  my  shuperb 
turn  out. 

"  As  a  Millentary  man,  and  a  North  Diddlesex  Huzza,  I  was 
resolved  to  come  to  the  ground  on  hossback.  I  had  Despara- 
tion  phigd  out  as  a  charger,  and  got  4  Melentery  dresses  from 
Ollywell  Street,  in  which  I  drest  my  2  men  (Fitzwarren,  hout  of 
livry,  woodnt  stand  it),  and  2  fellers  from  Rimles,  where  my 
bosses  stand  at  livry.  I  rode  up  St.  Jeames's  Street,  with  my 
4  Hadycongs — the  people  huzzaying — the  gals  waving  their 
hankercliers,  as  if  I  were  a  Foring  Prins — hall  the  winders 
crowdid  to  see  me  pass. 

"  The  guard  must  have  taken  me  for  a  Hempror  at  least, 
when  I  came,  for  the  drums  beat,  and  the  guard  turned  out  and 
saluted  me  with  presented  harms. 

"  What  a  momink  of  triumth  it  was  !  I  sprung  myjestickly 
from  Desperation.  I  gav  the  rains  to  one  of  my  horderlies, 
and,  salewting  the  crowd,  I  past  into  the  presnts  of  my  Most 
Gracious  Mrs. 

"  You,  peraps,  may  igspect  that  I  should  narrait  at  lenth  the 
suckmstanzas  of  my  havvjince  with  the  British  Crown.  But  I 
am  not  one  who  would  gratafy  i77ipiittniut  curaiosaty.  Rispect 
for  our  reckonized  instatewtions  is  my  fust  quallaty.  I,  for  one, 
will  dye  rallying  round  my  Thrown. 

"  Sufifise  it  to  say,  when  I  stood  in  the  Horgust  Presnts, — 
when  I  sor  on  the  right  &  of  my  Himperial  Sovring  that  Most 
Gracious  Prins,  to  admire  womb  has  been  the  chief  Objick  of 
my  life,  my  busum  was  seased  with  an  imotium  which  my  Penn 
rifewses  to  dixcribe — my  trembling  knees  halmost  rifused  their 
hofifis — I  reckleck  nothing  mor  until  I  was  found  phainting  in 
the  harms  of  the  Lord  Chamberling.  Sir  Robert  Peal  apnd  to 
be  standing  by  (I  knew  our  wuthy  Primmier  by  PimcJi's  picturs 
of  him,  igspecially  his  ligs),  and  he  was  conwussing  with  a  man 
of  womb  I  shall  say  nothink,  but  that  he  is  a  Hero  of  100  fites, 
a7ul  hcvcry  fte  he  fit  he  one.  Nead  I  say  that  I  elude  to  Harthur 
of  \\'ellingting  ?  I  introjuiced  myself  to  these  Jents,  and  intend 
to  improve  the  equaintance,  and  peraps  ast  Guvmint  for  a 
Barnetcy. 

"  But  there  was  another  pusn  womb  on  this  droring-room  I 
fust  had  the  inagspressable  dalite  to  beold.    This  was  that  Stat 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUG  HE.  jqj 

of  fashing,  that  Sinecure  of  neighboring  i's,  as  Milting  observes, 
the  ecompUsht  Lady  HangeUna  Thistlewood,  daughter  of  my 
exlent  frend,  John  George  Godfrey  de  Bullion  Thistlewood,  Earl 
of  Bareacres,  Baron  Southdown,  in  the  Peeridge  of  the  United 
Kingdom,  Baron  Haggismore,  in  Scotland,  K.T.,  LordLeftnant 
of  the  County  of  Diddlesex,  &c.,  &c.  This  young  lady  was  with 
her  Noble  Ma,  when  I  was  kinducted  tords  her.  And  surely 
never  lighted  on  this  hearth  a  more  delightfle  vishn.  In  that 
gallixy  of  Bewty  the  Lady  HangeUna  was  the  fairest  Star — in 
that  reath  of  Loveliness  the  sweetest  Rosebud  !  Pore  Mary 
Hann,  my  Art's  young  affeckshns  had  been  senterd  on  thee  ; 
but  like  water  through  a  sivv,  her  immidge  disapeared  in  a 
momink,  and  left  me  intransd  in  the  presnts  of  Hangelina. 

"Lady  Bareacres  made  me  a  myjestick  bow — a  grand  and 
hawfle  pusnage  her  Ladyship  is,  with  a  Roming  Nose,  and  an 
enawmus  ploom  of  Hostridge  phethers  ;  the  fare  Hangelina 
smiled  with  a  sweetness  perfickly  bewhildring,  and  said,  '  O, 
Mr.  De  la  Pluche,  I'm  so  delighted  to  make  your  acquaintance. 
I  have  often  heard  of  you.' 

"  '  Who,'  says  I,  '  has  mentioned  my  insiggnificknt  igsistance 
to  the  fair  Lady  Hangelina  ?  ke/  botim^e  igstrame  poor  mwazv  1 ' 
(For  you  see  I've  not  studdied  'Pelham  '  for  nothink,  and  have 
lunt  a  few  French  phraces,  without  which  no  Gent  of  Fashn 
speaks  now.) 

"  '  O,'  replies  my  lady,  "  it  was  Papa  first ;  and  then  a  very, 
very  old  friends  of  yours.' 

"  '  Whose  name  is,'  says  I,  pusht  on  by  my  stoopid  curaw- 
saty 

"  '  Hoggins — Mary  Ann  Hoggins  ' — ansurred  my  lady  (lat 
fing  phit  to  splitt  her  little  sides).  '  She  is  my  maid,  Mr.  De 
la  Pluche,  and  I'm  afraid  you  are  a  very  sad,  sad  person.' 

"  '  A  mere  baggytell,'  says  I.  '  In  fommer  days  I  was 
equainted  with  that  young  woman  ;  but  haltered  suckmstancies 
have  sepparated  us  for  hever,  and  moiig  cure  is  irratreevably 
perdew  elsewhere.' 

"  '  Do  tell  me  all  about  it.  Who  is  it .?  When  was  it .'  We 
are  all  dying  to  know.' 

"  '  Since  about  two  minnits,  and  the  Ladys  name  begins  with 
a  Ha,^  says  I,  looking  her  tendarly  in  the  face,  and  conjring  up 
hall  the  fassanations  of  my  smile. 

"  '  Mr.  De  la  Pluche,'  here  said  a  gentleman  in  whiskers 
and  mistashes  standing  by,  '  hadn't  you  better  take  your  spurs 
out  of  the  Countess  of  Bareacres'  train  ? '  — '  Never  mind 
Mamma's  train  '  (said  Lady  Hangelina) :  '  this  is  the  great  Mr. 


io8  THE  DIARY  OF 

De  la  Pluche,  let  me  present  you  to  Captain  George  Silvertop. 
— The  Capting  bent  just  one  jint  of  his  back  very  slitely  ;  I 
retund  his  stare  with  equill  hottiness.  '  Go  and  see  for  Lady 
Bareacres'  carridge,  George,'  says  his  Lordship  ;  and  vispers  to 
me,  *a  cousin  of  ours — a  poor  relation.'  So  I  took  no  notis  of 
the,  feller  when  he  came  back,  nor  in  my  subsquint  visits  to 
Hill  Street,  where  it  seerns  a  knife  and  fork  was  laid  reglar  for 
this  shabby  Capting." 


"  Thusday  Night. — O  Hangelina,  Hangelina,  my  pashn  for 
yea  hogments  daily  !  I've  bean  with  her  two  the  Hopra.  I 
sent  her  a  bewtifle  Camellia  Jyponiky  from  Covn  Garding,  with 
a  request  she  would  wear  it  in  her  raving  Air.  I  woar  another 
in  my  butnole.  Evns,  what  was  my  sattusfackshn  as  I  leant 
hover  her  chair,  and  igsammined  the  house  with  my  glas  ! 

*'  She  was  as  sulky  and  silent  as  pawsble,  however — would, 
scarcely  speek  ;  although  I  kijoled  her  with  a  thowsnd  little  plesn- 
tries.  I  spose  it  was  because  that  wulgar  raskle  Silvertop  wood 
stay  in  the  box.  As  if  he  didn'  know  (Lady  B.'s  as  deaf  as  a  poast 
and  counts  for  nothink)  that  i^eople  sometimes  like  a  tatytatyy 


"  Friday. — I  was  sleeples  all  night.  I  gave  went  to  my 
feelings  in  the  folloring  lines — there's  a  hair  out  of  Balfe's 
Hopera  that  she's  fond  of.     I  edapted  them  to  that  mellady. 

"  She  was  in  the  droring-room  alone  with  Lady  B.  She 
was  wobbling  at  the  pyanna  as  I  hentered.  I  flung  the  con- 
vasation  upon  mewsick  ;  said  I  sung  myself  (I've  ad  lesns 
of  Signor  Twankydillo)  ;  and  on  her  rekwesting  me  to  favor 
her  with  somethink,  I  bust  out  with  my  pom  : 

"'WHEN  MOONLIKE  OER  THE  HAZURE  SEAS. 

"  '  When  Moonlike  oer  the  hazure  seas 

In  soft  effulgence  swells, 
When  silver  jews  and  balmy  breaze 

Bend  down  the  Lily's  bells  ; 
When  calm  and  deap,  the  rosy  sleap 

Has  lapt  your  soal  in  dreams, 
R  Hangaline  !   R  lady  mine  ! 

Dost  thou  remember Jeames? 

"  '  I  mark  thee  in  the  Marble  All, 

Where  Englands  loveliest  shine< 
I  say  the  fairest  of  them  hall 

Is  Lady  Hangeline. 
My  soul,  in  desolate  eclipse, 

With  recollection  teems — 
And  then  I  hask,  with  weeping  lips. 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames? 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  IQ^ 

"  '  Away  !   I  may  not  tell  thee  hall 

This  soughring  heart  endures— 
There  is  a  lonely  sperrit-call 

That  Sorrow  riever  cures  ; 
There  is  a  little,  little  Star, 

That  still  above  me  beams  ; 
It  is  the  Star  of  Hope — but  ar ! 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames  ? ' 

"  When  I  came  to  the  last  words,  '  Dost  thou  remember 
Je-e-e-ams  ? '  I  threw  such  an  igspresshn  of  unutterable  ten- 
derniss  into  the  shake  at  the  hend,  that  Hangelina  could  bear 
it  no  more.  A  burst  of  uncumtrollable  emotium  seized  her. 
She  put  her  ankercher  to  her  face  and  left  the  room.  I  heard 
her  laffing  and  sobbing  histerickly  in  the  bedwor. 

"  O  Hangelina — My  adord  one,  My  Arts  joy  !  " 


"  Bareacres,  me,  the  ladies  of  the  family,  with  their  sweet 
Southdown,  B's  eldest  son,  and  George  Silvertop,  the  shabby 
Capting  (who  seems  to  git  leaf  from  his  regimint  whenhever  he 
likes),  have  beene  down  into  Diddlesex  for  a  few  days,  enjying 
the  spawts  of  the  feald  there. 

"Never  having  done  much  in  the  gunning  line  (since  when 
a  hinnasent  boy,  me  and  Jim  Cox  used  to  go  out  at  Healing,  and 
shoot  sparrers  in  the  Edges  with  a  pistle) — I  was  reyther  dowtfle 
as  to  my  suxes  as  a  shot,  and  practusd  for  some  days  at  a 
stoughd  bird  in  a  shooting  gallery,  which  a  chap  histed  up  and 
down  with  a  string.  I  sugseaded  in  itting  the  hannimle  pretty 
well.  I  bought  Awker's  '  Shooting-Guide,'  two  double-guns  at 
Mantings,  and  selected  from  the  French  prints  of  fashn  the 
most  gawjus  and  ellygant  sporting  ebillyment.  A  lite  blue 
velvet  and  goold  cap,  woar  very  much  on  one  hear,  a  cravatt  of 
yaller  &  green  imbroidered  satting,  a  weskit  of  the  McGrigger 
plaid,  and  a  jacket  of  the  McWhirtertartn,  (with  large,  mother- 
apurl  butns,  engraved  with  the  coaches  &  osses,  and  sporting 
subjix.)  high  leather  gayters,  and  marocky  shooting  shoes,  was 
the  simple  hellymence  of  my  costewm,  and  I  flatter  myself  set 
hoff  my  figger  in  rayther  a  fayverable  way.  I  took  down  none 
of  my  own  pusnal  istablishmint  except  Fitzwarren,  my  hone 
mann,  and  my  grooms,  with  Desparation  and  my  curricle  osses, 
and  the  Fourgong  containing  my  dressing-case  and  close. 

"  I  was  heverywhere  introjuiced  in  the  county  as  the  great 
Railroad  Cappitlist,  who  was  to  make  Diddlesex  the  most 
prawsperous  districk  of  the  hempire.  The  squires  prest  forrards 
to  welcome  the  new  comer  amongst  'em ;  and  we  had  a  Hag- 
ricultural  Meating  of  the  Bareacres  tenantry,  where  I  made  a 
spech  drori-v.g  tears  from  heaveryi.     It  v.as  in  compliment  to  a 

h 


ITO  THE  DIARY  OF 

layborer  who  had  brought  up  sixteen  children,  and  lived  sixty 
years  on  the  istate  on  seven  bobb  a  week.  I  am  not  prowd, 
though  I  know  my  station.  I  shook  hands  with  that  mann  in 
lavinder  kidd  gloves.  I  told  him  that  the  purshuit  of  hagri- 
culture  was  the  noblist  hockupations  of  humannaty :  I  spoke 
of  the  yoming  of  Hengland,  who,  (under  the  command  of  my 
hancisters)  had  conquered  at  Hadjincourt  &  Cressy  ;  and  I  gave 
him  a  pair  of  new  velveteen  inagspressables,  with  two  and  six 
in  each  pocket,  as  a  reward  for  three  score  years  of  labor. 
Fitzwarren,  my  man,  brought  them  forrards  on  a  satting  ensil- 
ing. Has  I  sat  down  defning  chears  selewted  the  horator  \ 
the  band  struck  up  *  The  Good  Old  English  Gentleman.'  I 
looked  to  the  ladies  galry  ;  my  Hangelina  waived  her  ankasher 
and  kissed  her  cS:  ;  and  I  sor  in  the  distans  that  pore  Mary 
Hann  efected  evidently  to  tears  by  my  ellaquints." 


"  What  an  adwance  that  gal  has  made  since  she's  been  in 
Lady  Hangelina's  company  !  Sins  she  wears  her  young  lady's 
igsploded  gownds  and  retired  caps  and  ribbings,  there's  an 
ellygance  abowt  her  which  is  pufifickly  admarable  ;  and  which, 
haddid  to  her  own  natral  bewty  &  sweetniss,  creates  in  my 
boozum  serting  sensatiums.  *  *  *  Shor  !  I  miistn'tgwe  way  to 
fealinx  unwurthy  of  a  member  of  the  aristoxy.  What  can  she 
be  to  me  but  a  mere  recklection — a  vishn  of  former  ears .'' 

"  I'm  blest  if  I  didn  mistake  her  for  Hangelina  herself  yester- 
day. I  met  her  in  the  grand  Collydore  of  Bareacres  Castle.  I 
sor  a  lady  in  a  melumcolly  hattatude  gacing  outawinder  at  the 
setting  sun,  which  was  eluminating  the  fair  parx  and  gardings 
of  the  hancient  demean. 

"  '  Bewchus  Lady  Hangelina,'  says  I — '  A  penny  for  your 
Ladyship's  thought,'  says  I. 

"  '  Ho,  Jeames  !  Ho,  Mr.  De  la  Pluche  !  '  hansered  a  well- 
known  vice,  with  a  haxnt  of  sadnis  which  went  to  ray  art. 
'  You  know  what  my  thoughts  are,  well  enough.  I  was  think- 
ing of  happy,  happy  old  times,  when  both  of  us  were  poo — poo 
— oor,'  says  Mary  Hann,  busting  out  in  a  phit  of  crying,  a  thing 
I  can't  ebide.  I  took  her  and  tried  to  cumft  her  :  I  pinted  out 
the  diffrents  of  our  sitawashns  ;  igsplained  to  her  that  proppaty 
has  its  jewties  as  well  as  its  previletches,  and  that  7iiy  juty 
clearly  was  to  marry  into  a  noble  famly.  I  kep  on  talking  to 
her  (she  sobbing  and  going  hon  hall  the  time)  till  Lady  Hange- 
lina herself  came  up — '  The  real  Siming  Fewer,'  as  they  say  in 
the  play. 

"  There  they  stood  together — them  two  young  women.     I 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE-  HI 

don't  know  which  is  the  ansamest.  I  coocin  help  comparing, 
them  ;  and  I  coodnt  help  comparing  myself  to  a  certing  Han 
nimle  I've  read  of,  that  found  it  difficklt  to  make  a  choice  be- 
twiest  2  Bundles  of  A." 


"  That  ungrateful  beest  Fitzwarren — my  oan  man — a  feller 
I've  maid  a  fortune  for — a  feller  I  give  loo  lb.  per  hannum  to  ! 
— a  low  bred  Wallydyshamber  !  He  must  be  thinking  of  fall- 
ing \\\  love  too !  and  treating  me  to  his  imperence. 

"  He's  a  great  big  athlatic  feller — six  feet  i,  with  a  pair  of 
black  whiskers  like  air-brushes — with  a  look  of  a  Colonel  in  the 
harmy — a  dangerous  pawmpus -spoken  raskle  I  warrunt  you.  I 
was  coming  ome  from  shuiting  this  hafternoon — and  passing 
through  Lady  Hangelina's  flour-gardmg,  who  should  I  see  in 
the  summerouse,  but  Mary  Hann  pretending  to  em  an  ankyshl 
and  Mr.  Fitzwarren  paying  his  cort  to  her? 

"  'You  may  as  well  have  me,  Mary  Hann,'  says  he,  '  I've 
saved  money.  We'll  take  a  public-house  and  I'll  make  a  lady 
of  you.  I'm  not  a  purse-proud  ungrateful  fellow  like  Jeames — ■ 
who's  such  a  snob  ('  such  a  snobb  '  was  his  very  words  !)  that 
I'm  ashamed  to  wait  on  him — who's  the  laughing  stock  of  all 
the  gentry  and  the  housekeeper's  room  too — try  a  man,'  says 
he — '  don't  be  taking  on  about  such  a  humbug  as  Jeames.' 

"  Here  young  Joe  the  keaper's  sun,  who  was  carrying  my 
bagg,  bust  out  a  lafhng — thereby  causing  Mr.  Fitzwarren  to 
turn  round  and  intarupt  this  polite  convasation. 

"  I  was  in  such  a  rayge.  '  Quit  the  building,  Mary  Hann,' 
says  I  to  the  young  woman — '  and  you,  Mr.  Fitzwarren,  have 
the  goodness  to  remain.' 

"  '  I  give  you  warning,'  roars  he,  looking  black,  blue,  yallei 
— all  the  colors  of  the  ranebo. 

" '  Take  of^  your  coat,  you  imperent,  hungrateful  scoundrel,' 
says  I. 

"  '  It's  not  your  livery,'  says  he, 

"  '  Peraps  you'll  understand  me,  when  I  take  off  my  own,' 
says  I,  unbuttoning  the  motherapurls  of  the  MacWhirter  tartn. 
'  Take  my  jackit,  Joe,'  says  I  to  the  boy, — and  put  myself  in  a 

hattitude  about  which  there  was  no  mistayk. 

***** 

"  He's  2  stone  heavier  than  me — and  knows  the  use  of  his 
ands  as  well  as  most  men  ;  but  in  a  fite,  blood's  everything ;  the 
Snobb  can't  stanO  before  the  gentleman  ;  and  I  should  have 
killed  him,  I've  little  doubt,  but  they  came  and  stopt  the  fits 
6etwigst  us  before  we'd  had  more  than  2  rounds. 


112  THE  DIARY  OF 

"  I  punisht  the  raskle  tremenjusly  in  that  time,  though ;  and 
I'm  writing  this  in  my  own  sittn-room,  not  being  able  to  come 
down  to  dinner  on  account  of  a  black-eye  I've  got,  which  is 
sweld  up  and  disfiggrs  me  dreadfl." 

"  On  account  of  the  hofifle  black  i  which  I  reseaved  in  my 
rangcounter  with  the  hinfimus  Fitzwarren,  I  kep  my  roomb  for 
sevral  days,  with  the  rose-colored  curtings  of  the  apartniint 
closed,  so  as  to  form  an  agreeable  twilike ;  and  a  light-bloo 
sattin  shayd  over  the  injard  pheacher.  My  woons  was  thus 
made  to  become  me  as  much  as  pawsable  ;  and  (has  the  Poick 
well  observes  '  Nun  but  the  Brayv  desuvs  the  Fare  ')  I  cum- 
soled  myself  in  the  sasiaty  of  the  ladies  for  my  tempory  dis- 
figgarment. 

"  It  was  Mary  Hann  who  summind  the  House  and  put  an 
end  to  my  phistycoughs  with  Fitzwarren,  I  licked  him  and 
bare  him  no  mallis  :  but  of  corse  I  dismist  the  imperent  scoun- 
drill  from  my  suvvis,  apinting  Adolphus,  my  page,  to  his  post 
of  confidenshle  Valley. 

"  Mary  Hann  and  her  young  and  lovely  Mrs.  kep  paying 
me  continyoul  visits  during  my  retiremint.  Lady  Hangelina 
was  halways  sen.ding  me  messidges  by  her :  while  my  exlent 
friend,  Lady  Bareacres  (on  the  contry)  was  always  sending  me 
toakns  of  affeckshn  by  Hangelina.  Now  it  was  a  coolin  hi- 
lotium,  inwented  by  herself,  that  her  Ladyship  would  perscribe 
— then,  agin,  it  would  be  a  booky  of  flowers  (my  favrit  poUy 
hanthuses,  pellagoniums,  and  jyponikys),  which  none  but  the 
fair  &s  of  Hangelina  could  dispose  about  the  chamber  of  the 
liinvyleed.  Ho  !  those  dear  mothers  !  when  they  wish  to  find 
a  chans  for  a  galliant  young  feller,  or  to  ixtablish  their  dear 
gals  in  life,  what  awpertunities  they  z£////give  a  man  !  You'd 
have  phansied  I  was  so  hill  (on  account  of  my  black  hi,)  that  I 
couldnt  live  exsep  upon  chicking  and  spoon-meat,  and  jellies, 
and  blemonges,  and  that  I  couldnt  eat  the  latter  dellixies 
(which  I  ebomminate  onternoo,  prefurring  a  cut  of  beaf  or 
muttn  to  hall  the  kickpshaws  of  France,)  unless  Hangelina 
brought  them.  I  et  'em,  and  sacrafised  myself  for  her  deai 
sayk. 

"  I  may  stayt  here  that  in  privit  convasations  with  old  Lord 
B.  and  his  son,  I  had  mayd  my  proposals  for  Hangelina,  and 
was  axepted,  and  hoped  soon  to  be  made  the  appiest  gent  in 
Hengland. 

" '  You  must  break  the  matter  gcntlv  to  her,'  said  her  hex- 
lent  fatlicr.     '  Y'ou  have   my  warmest  wishes,  my  dear  Mr.  De 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUG  HE.  I13 

la  Pluche,  and  those  of  my  Lady  Bareacres  ;  but  I  am  not — 
not  quite  certain  about  Lady  Angelina's  feelings.  Girls  are 
wild  and  romantic.  They  do  not  see  the  necessity  of  prudent 
establishments,  and  I  have  never  yet  been  able  to  make  Ange- 
lina understand  the  embarrassments  of  her  family.  These  silly 
creatures  prate  about  love  and  a  cottage,  and  despise  advan- 
tages which  wiser  heads  than  theirs  know  how  to  estimate.' 

'"Do  you  mean  that  she  aint  fassanated  by  me?'  says  I, 
bursting  out  at  this  outrayjus  ideer. 

"  '  She  zvill  be,  my  dear  sir.  You  have  already  pleased  her, 
— your  admirable  manners  must  succeed  in  captivating  her,  and 
a  fond  father's  wishes  will  be  crowned  on  the  day  in  which 30U 
enter  our  family.' 

'"  Recklect,  gents,'  says  I  to  the  2  lords, — 'a  barging's  a 
barging — I'll  pay  hoff  Southdown's  Jews,  when  I'm  his  brother. 
As  a  straynger'  —  (this  I  said  in  a  sarcastickle  toan)  —  'I 
wouldn't  take  such  a  libhaty.  When  I'm  your  suninlor  I'll 
treble  the  valyou  of  your  estayt.  I'll  make  your  incumbrinces 
as  right  as  a  trivit,  and  restorthe  ouse  of  Bareacres  to  its  herly 
splender.  But  a  pig  in  a  poak  is  not  the  way  of  transacting 
bisniss  imployed  by  Jeames  De  la  Pluche,  Esquire.' 

"  And  I  had  a  right  to  speak  in  this  way,  I  was  one  of  the 
greatest  scrip-holders  in  Hengland  ;  and  calclated  on  a  kilossle 
fortune.  All  my  sliares  was  rising  immence.  Every  poast 
brot  me  noose  that  I  was  sevTal  thowsands  richer  than  the  day 
befor.  I  was  detummind  not  to  realize  till  the  proper  time, 
and  then  to  buy  istates ;  to  found  a  new  family  of  Delapluches, 
and  to  alie  myself  with  the  aristoxy  of  my  country. 

"  These  pints  I  reprasented  to  pore  Mary  Hann  hover  and 
hover  agiru  '  If  you'd  been  Lady  Hangelina,  my  dear  gal,'  says 
I,  '  I  would  have  married  you :  and  why  don't  1  ?  Because  my 
dooty  prewents  me.  I'm  a  marter  to  dooty ;  and  you,  my  pore 
gal,  must  cumsole  yorself  with  that  ideer.' 

"  There  seemed  to  be  a  consperracy,  too,  between  that 
Silvertop  and  Lady  Hangelina  to  drive  me  to  the  same  pint. 
*  What  a  plucky  fellow  you  were,  Pluche,'  says  he  (he  was 
rayther  more  familiar  tlian  I  liked),  in  your  fight  with  Fitzwar- 
ren  ! — to  engage  a  man  of  twice  your  strength  and  science, 
though  you  were  sure  to  be  beaten'  (this  is  an  etroashous 
folsood  :  I  should  have  finnisht  Fitz  in  10  minnits),  'for  th.e 
sake  of  poor  Mar3'^  Hann  I  That's  a  generous  fellow.  I  like 
to  see  a  man  risen  to  eminence  like  you,  liaving  his  heart  in  the 
right  place.     When  is  to  be  the  marriage,  my  boy  ? ' 

^"  Cap  ting  S.,' says   I.  'my  marridge  consunns  your  most 


114 


THE  DIARY  OF 


umble  servnt  a  precious  sight  more  than  you; ' — and  I  gev  hh<i 
to  understand  I  didn't  want  him  to  put  in  his  ore — I  wasn't 
afrayd  of  his  whiskers,  I  prommis  you,  Capting  as  he  was.  I'm 
a  British  Lion,  I  am  ;  as  brayv  as  Bonypert,  Hannible,  or 
Holiver  Crummle,  and  would  face  bagnits  as  well  as  any  Evy 
drigoon  of  *em  all." 

"Lady  Hangelina,  too,  igspawstulated  in  her  hartfl  way, 
'  Mr.  De  la  Pluche  (seshee),  why,  why  press  this  point .''  You 
can't  suppose  that  you  will  be  happy  with  a  person  like  me  ? ' 

"  'I  adoar  you,  charming  gal ! '  says  I.  "Never,  never  go 
to  say  any  such  thing.' 

"  '  You  adored  Mary  Ann  first,'  answers  her  ladyship  ;  '  you 
can't  keep  your  eyes  off  her  now.  If  any  man  courts  her  you 
grow  so  jealous  that  you  begin  beating  him.  You  will  break 
the  girl's  heart  if  you  don't  marry  her,  and  perhaps  some  one 
else's — but  you  don't  mind  that.^ 

"  '  Break  yours,  you  adoarible  creature  !  I'd  die  first !  And 
as  for  Mary  Hann,  she  will  git  over  it ;  people's  arts  ain't 
broakn  so  easy.  Once  for  all,  suckmstances  is  changed  be- 
twigst  me  and  er.  It's  a  pang  to  part  with  her '  (says  I,  my 
fine  hi's  filling  with  tears),  '  but  part  from  her  I  must.' 

"  It  was  curius  to  remark  abowt  that  singlar  gal,  Lady 
Hangelina,  that  melumcolly  as  she  was  when  she  was  talking  to 
me,  and  ever  so  disml — yet  she  kep  on  laffing  every  minute  like 
the  juice  and  all. 

"  '  What  a  sacrifice  ! '  says  she  ;  '  it's  like  Napoleon  giving 
up  Josephine.  What  anguish  it  must  cause  to  your  susceptible 
heart ! ' 

"  'It  does,^  says  I — Hagnies  ! '     (Another  laff.) 

"  '  And  if — if  I  don't  accept  you — ^you  will  invade  the  States 
of  the  Emperor,  my  papa,  and  I  am  to  be  made  the  sacrifice 
and  the  occasion  of  peace  between  you  ! ' 

"  '  I  don't  know  what  you're  eluding  to  about  Joseyfeen  and 
Hemperors  your  Pas  ;  but  I  know  that  your  Pa's  estate  is  over 
hedaneers  morgidged  ;  that  if  some  one  don't  elp  him,  he's  na 
better  than  an  old  pawper ;  that  he  owes  me  a  lot  of  money ;  and 
that  I'm:  the  man  that  can  sell  him  up  boss  &  foot ;  or  set  him 
up  agen — that's  what  I  know.  Lady  Hangelina,'  says  I,  with  a 
hair  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Put  that  in  your  ladyship's  pipe  and 
smoke  it.' 

"  And  so  I  left  her,  and  nex  day  a  serting  fashnable  paper 
enounced — 

"  *  Marriage  in  High  Life. — We  hear  that  a  matrimonial 
trnion  is  on  the  tapis  between  a  gentleman  who  has  made  9 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  115 

colossal  fortune  in  the  Railway  World,  and  the  only  daughter 
of  a  noble  earl,  whose  estates  are  situated  in  D-ddles-x,  An 
early  day  is  fixed  for  this  interesting  event.' " 


"  Contry  to  my  expigtations  (but  when  or  ow  can  we  reckn 
upon  the  fealinx  of  wimming  ?)  Mary  Hann  didn't  seem  to  be 
much  efected  by  the  hideer  of  my  marridge  with  Hangelina.  I 
was  rayther  disapinted  peraps  that  the  fickle  young  gal  reckum- 
siled  herself  so  easy  to  give  me  hup,  for  we  Gents  are  creechers 
of  vannaty  after  all,  as  well  as  those  of  the  hopsit  seeks  :  and 
betwigst  you  and  me  there  was  mominx,  when  I  almost  whisht 
that  I  had  been  borne  a  Myommidn  or  Turk,  when  the  Lor 
would  have  permitted  me  to  marry  both  these  sweet  beinx, 
wherehas  I  was  now  condemd  to  be  appy  with  ony  one. 

"  Meanwild  everythink  went  on  very  agreeable  betwigst  me 
and  my  defianced  bride.  When  we  came  back  to  town  I 
kemishnd  Mr.  Showery  the  great  Hoctionear  to  look  out  for  a 
town  manshing  sootable  for  a  gent  of  my  quallaty.  I  got  from 
the  Erald  Hoffis  (not  the  Mawning  Erald — no  no,  I'm  not 
such  a  Mough  as  to  go  tJietr  for  ackrit  infamation)  an  account 
of  my  famly,  my  harms  and  pedigry. 

"  I  bordered  in  Long  Hacre,  three  splendid  cqu'pidges,  on 
which  my  arms  and  my  adord  wife's  was  drawn  &  C[uartered  ; 
and  I  got  portricks  of  me  and  her  paynted  by  the  sellabrated 
Mr.  Shalloon,  being  resolved  to  be  the  gentleman  in  all  things, 
and  knowing  that  my  character  as  a  man  of  fashn  wasn't  com- 
pleat  unless  I  sat  to  that  dixtinguished  Hartist.  My  liken  is  I 
presented  to  Hangelina.  It's  not  considered  flattring — and 
though  she  parted  with  it,  as  you  will  hear,  mighty  willingly, 
there's  f//^  young  lady  (a  thousand  times  handsomer)  that  values 
it  as  the  happle  of  her  hi. 

"  Would  any  man  beleave  that  this  picture  was  soald  at  my 
sale  for  about  a  twenty-fifth  part  of  what  it  cost  me  ?  It  was 
bought  in  by  Maryhann,  though  :  '  O  dear  Jeames,'  says  she, 
often  (kissing  of  it  &  pressing  it  to  her  art),  '  it  isn't  %.  ansum 
enough  for  you,  and  hasn't  got  your  angellick  smile  and  the 
igspreshn  of  your  dear  dear  i's.' 

"  Hangelina's  pictur  was  kindly  presented  to  me  by  Countess 
B.,  her  mamma,  though  of  coarse  I  paid  for  it.  It  was  engraved 
for  the  '  Book  of  Bewty  '  the  same  year. 

"  With  such  a  perfusion  of  ringlits  I  should  scarcely  have 
known  her — but  the  ands,  feat,  and  i's,  was  very  like.  She  was 
painted  in  a  gitar  supposed  to  be  singing  one  of  my  little  mel- 


Il6  THE  DIARY  OF 

ladies;  and  her  brother  Southdown,  who  is  one  of  the  New 
England  poits,  wrote  the  foUering  stanzys  about  her  : — 

"LINES    UPON  MY  SISTER'S  PORTRAIT. 

BY    THE    LORD   SOUTHDOWN. 

"The  castle  towers  of  Bareacres  are  fair  upon  the  lea, 
Where  the  cliffs  of  bonny  Diddlesex  rise  up  from  out  the  sea : 
I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep  and  view'd  the  country  o'er, 
I  saw  the  lands  of  Bareacres  for  fifty  miles  or  more. 
I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep — it  is  a  sacred  place, — 
Wliere  floated  for  eight  hundred  years  the  banner  of  my  race  ; 
Argent,  a  dexter  sinople,  and  gules  an  azure  field, 
There  ne'er  was  nobler  cognizance  on  knightly  warrior's  shield. 

"  The  first  time  England  saw  the  shield  'twas  round  a  Norman  neck 
On  board  a  ship  from  Valery,  King  William  was  on  deck. 
A  Norman  lance  the  colors  wore,  in  Hastings'  fatal  fray — 
St.  Willibald  for  Bareacres!   'twas  double  gules  that  day! 
O  Heaven  and  sweet  St.  Willibald!   in  many  a  battle  since 
A  loyal-hearted  Bareacres  has  ridden  by  his  Prince  ! 
At  Acre  with  Plantagenet,  with  Edward  at  Poitiers, 
The  pennon  of  the  Bareacres  was  foremost  on  the  spears ! 

"  'Twas pleasant  in  the  battle-shock  to  hear  our  war-cry  ringing: 
O  grant  me,  sweet  St.  Willibald,  to  listen  to  such  singing ! 
Three  hundred  steel-clad  gentlemen,  we  drove  the  foe  before  us, 
And  thirty  score  of  British  bows  kept  tvv'anging  to  the  chorus! 
O  knights,  my  noble  ancestors  !   and  shall  I  never  hear 
Saint  Willibald  for  Bareacres  through  battle  ringing  clear? 
I'd  cut  me  off  this  strong  right  hand  a  single  hour  to  ride, 
And  strike  a  blow  for  Bareacres,  my  fathers,  at  your  side ! 

"  Dash  down,  dash  down,  yon  ^Mandolin,  beloved  sister  mine! 
Those  blushing  lips  may  never  sing  the  glories  of  our  line  : 
Our  ancient  castles  echo  to  the  clumsy  feet  of  churls, 
The  spinning  Jenny  houses  in  the  mansion  of  our  Earls. 
Sing  not,  sing  not,  my  Angeline  !   in  days  so  base  and  vile, 
'Twere  sinful  to  be  happy,  'twere  sacrilege  to  smile. 
I'll  hie  me  to  my  lonely  hall,  and  by  its  cheerless  hob 
I'll  muse  on  other  days,  and  wish — and  wish  I  were — A  Snob." 

*'  All  young  Hengland,  I'm  told,  considers  the  poim  bew- 
tifle.  They're  always  writing  about  batileaxis  and  shivvlery, 
these  young  chaps  ;  but  the  ideer  of  Southdown  in  a  shoot  of 
armer,  and  his  cuttin  hoff  his  '  strong  right  hand,'  is  rayther 
too  good  ;  the  feller  is  about  5  fit  hi, — as  ricketty  as  a  babby, 
with  a  vaist  like  a  gal ;  and  though  he  may  have  the  art  and 
curridge  of  Bengal  tyger,  I'd  back  my  smallest  cab-boy  to  lick 
him, — that  is,  if  I  ad  a  cab-boy.     But  io  !  my  cab-days  is  over. 

"  Be  still  my  liagnizing  Art!  I  now  am  about  to  hunfoald 
the  dark  payges  of  the  Istry  of  my  life  !  " 

"My  friends!  you've  seen  me  ither2  in  the  full  kerear  of 
Fortn,  prawsprus  but  not  hover  prowd  of  my  prawsperraty  ;  not 
dizzy  though  mounted  on  the  haypix  of  Good  Luck — feasting 
hall  the  great  (like  the  Good  Old'  Henglish  Gent  in  the  song, 


C.  JEAMES  BE  LA  PLUG  HE.  uy 

which  he  has  been  my  moddle  and  igsample  through  life),  but 
not  forgitting  the  small — No,  my  beayviour  to  my  granmother 
at  Healing  shows  that.  I  bot  her  a  new  donkey  cart  (what  the 
French  call  a  cart-blansh)  and  a  handsome  set  of  peggs  for 
anging  up  her  linning,  and  treated  Huncle  Bill  to  a  new  shoot 
of  close,  which  he  ordered  in  St.  Jeames's  Street,  much  to  the 
estonishment  of  my  Snyder  there,  namely  an  olhff-green  velvy- 
teen  jackit  and  smalclose,  and  a  crimsn  plush  weskoat  with 
glas-buttns.  These  pints  of  genarawsaty  in  my  disposishn  I 
never  should  have  eluded  to,  but  to  show  that  I  am  naturally 
of  a  noble  sort,  and  have  that  kind  of  galliant  carridge  which 
is  equel  to  either  good  or  bad  forting. 

"  What  was  the  substns  of  my  last  chapter  ?  In  that  every- 
think  was  prepayred  for  my  marridge  —  the  consent  of  the 
parents  of  my  Hangelina  was  gaynd,  the  lovely  gal  herself  was 
ready  (as  I  thought)  to  be  led  to  Himing's  halter — the  trooso 
was  bordered — the  wedding  dressis  were  being  phitted  hon — a 
weddinkake  weighing  half  a  tunn  was  a  gettn  reddy  by  Mesurs 
Gunter,  of  Buckley  Square  ;  there  was  such  an  account  for 
Shantilly  and  Honiton  laces  as  would  have  staggerd  henny- 
boddy  (I  know  they  did  the  Commissioner  when  I  came  hup 
for  my  Stiffikit),  and  has  for  Injar-shawls  I  bawt  a  dozen  sich 
fine  ones  as  never  was  given  away — no  not  by  Hiss  Iness  the 
Injan  Prins  Juggernaut  Tygore.  Thejuils  (a  pearl  and  dimind 
shoot)  were  from  the  establishmint  of  Mysurs  Storr  and  Mor- 
timer. The  honey-moon  I  intended  to  pass  in  a  continentle 
excussion,  and  was  in  treaty  for  the  ouse  at  Halberd-gate 
(hopsit  Mr.  Hudson's)  as  my  town-house.  I  waited  to  cum- 
clude  the  putchis  untie  the  Share-Markit  which  was  rayther 
deprest  (oing  I  think  not  so  much  to  the  atax  of  the  misrabble 
Times,  as  to  the  prodidjus  flams  of  the  Morning  Eralct)  was 
restored  to  its  elthy  toan.  I  wasn't  goin  to  part  with  scrip 
which  was  20  primmium  at  2  or  3  ;  and  bein  confidnt  that  the 
Markit  would  rally,  had  bought  very  largely  for  the  two  or  three 
new  accounts. 

"  This  will  explane  to  those  unfortnight  traydsmen  to  womb 
I  gayv  orders  for  a  large  igstent  ow  it  was  that  I  couldn't  pay 
their  accounts.  I  am  the  soal  of  onor — but  no  gent  can  pay 
when  he  has  no  money  : — it's  not  my  fault  if  that  old  screw 
Lady  Bareacres  cabbidged  three  hundred  yards  of  lace,  and 
kep  back  4  of  the  biggest  diminds  and  seven  of  the  largist  Injar 
Shawls — it's  not  ?«v  fault  if  the  tradespeople  didn  git  their  goods 
back,  and  that  Lady  B.  declared  they  were  lost.  I  began  the 
world  afresh  w;th  the  close  on   my  back,  and  thirteen  and   six 


Il8  THE  DIARY  OF 

in  money,  concealing  nothink,  giving  up  heverythink,  Onist 
and  undismayed,  and  tliough  beat,  witli  pluck  in  me  still,  and 
ready  to  begin  agin. 

"  Well — it  was  the  day  before  that  apinted  for  my  Unium. 
The  '  Ringdove  '  steamer  was  lying  at  Dover  ready  to  carry  us 
hoff.  The  Bridle  apartmince  had  been  bordered  at  Salt  Hill, 
and  subsquintly  at  Balong  sur  Mare — the  very  table-cloth  was 
laid  for  the  weddn  brexfst  in  111  Street,  and  the  Bride's  Right 
Reverend  Huncle,  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Bullocksmithy,  had 
arrived  to  sellabrayt  our  unium.  All  the  papers  were  full  of  it. 
Crowds  of  the  fashnable  world  went  to  see  the  trooso,  and 
admire  the  Carridges  in  Long  Hacre.  Our  travleng  charrat 
(light  bloo  lined  with  pink  satting,  and  vermillium  and  goold 
weals)  was  the  hadmaration  of  all  for  quiet  ellygns.  We  were 
to  travel  only  4,  viz.,  me,  my  lady,  my  vally,  and  Mary  Hann 
as  famdyshamber  to  my  Hangelina.  Far  from  oposing  our 
match,  this  worthy  gal  had  quite  givn  into  it  of  late,  and  laught 
and  joakt,  and  enjoyd  our  plans  for  the  fewter  igseedinkly. 

"  I'd  left  my  lovely  Bride  very  gay  the  night  before — aving 
a  multachewd  of  bisniss  on,  and  Stockbrokers'  and  bankers' 
accounts  to  settle  :  atsettrey  atsettrey.  It  was  layt  before  I  got 
these  in  border :  my  sleap  was  feavrish,  as  most  mens  is  when 
they  are  going  to  be  marrid  or  to  be  hanged.  I  took  my 
chocklit  in  bed  about  one  ;  tride  on  my  wedding  close,  and 
found  as  ushle  that  they  became  me  exeedingly. 

"  One  thing  distubbed  my  mind — two  weskts  had  been  sent 
home.  A  blush-white  satting  and  gold,  and  a  kinary  colored 
tabinet  imbridered  in  silver  :  which  should  I  wear  on  the  hos- 
picious  day  ?  This  hadgitated  and  perplext  me  a  good  deal. 
I  detummined  to  go  down  to  Hill  Street  and  cumsult  the  Lady 
whose  vvishis  were  henceforth  to  be  my  hallinal ;  and  wear 
whichever  she  phixt  on. 

"  There  was  a  great  bussel  and  distubbans  in  the  Hall  in 
111  Street :  which  I  etribyouted  to  the  eproaching  event.  The 
old  porter  stared  most  uncommon  when  I  kem  in — the  footman 
who  was  to  enounce  me  laft  I  thought — I  was  going  up  stairs — 

'"Her  ladyship's  not — not  at  home,''  says  the  man;  'and 
my  lady's  hill  in  bed.' 

"  '  Git  lunch,'  says  I,  '  I'll  wait  till  Lady  Hangelina  returns.' 

"  At  this  the  feller  loox  at  me  for  a  momint  with  his  cheex 
blown  out  like  a  bladder,  and  then  busts  out  in  a  reglar  guffau  ! 
the  porter  jined  in  it,  the  impident  old  raskle  :  and  Thomas 
says,  slapping  his  hand  on  his  thy,  without  the  least  respect--* 
^  I  say.  Huffy,  old  hoy  !  isn't  this  a  good  un  ? ' 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUG  HE.  ua 

"  *  Wadyermean,  you  infunnle  scoundrel,'  says  I,  '  hollaring 
and  laffing  at  me  ? ' 

"  '  Oh,  here's  Miss  Mary  Hann  coming  up,'  says  Thomas, 
'ask  her'' — and  indeed  there  came  my  little  Mary  Hann  trip- 
ping down  the  stairs — her  &s  in  her  pockits  ;  and  when  she 
saw  me,  she  began  to  blush  and  look  hod  &  then  to  grin  too. 

"  'In  the  name  of  Imperence,'  says  I,  rushing  on  Thomas, 
and  collaring  him  fit  to  throttle  him — '  no  raskle  of  a  flunky 
shall  insult  me,^  and  I  sent  him  staggerin  up  aginst  the  porter, 
and  both  of  'em  into  the  hall-chair  with  a  flcpp — when  Mary 
Hann,  jumping  down,  says, '  O  James  !  O  Mr.  Plush  !  read  this' 
— and  she  pulled  out  a  billy  doo. 

"  I  reckanized  the  and-writing  of  Hanoelina." 


"  Deseatful  Hangelina's  billy  ran  as  follows  : — 
"  '  I  had  all  along  hoped  that  you  would  have  relinquished 
pretensions  which  you  must  have  seen  w^ere  so  disagreeable  to 
me  ;  and  have  spared  me  the  painful  necessity  of  the  step  which 
I  am  compelled  to  take.  For  a  long  time  I  could  not  believe 
my  parents  were  serious  in  wishing  to  sacrifice  me,  but  have  in 
vain  entreated  them  to  spare  me.  I  cannot  undergo  the  shame 
and  misery  of  a  union  with  you.  To  the  very  last  hour  I 
remonstrated  in  vain,  and  only  now  anticipate,  by  a  few  hours, 
my  departure  from  a  home  from  which  they  themselves  were 
about  to  expel  me. 

"  '  When  you  receive  this,  I  shall  be  united  to  the  person 
to  whom,  as  you  are  aware,  my  heart  was  given  long  ago. 
My  parents  are  already  informed  of  the  step  I  have  taken. 
And  I  have  my  own  honor  to  consult,  even  before  their  bene- 
fit :  they  will  forgive  me,  I  hope  and  feel,  before  long. 

"  '  As  for  yourself,  may  I  not  hope  that  time  will  calm  your 
exquisite  feelings  too  ?  I  leave  Mary  Ann  behind  me  to  con- 
sole you.  She  admires  you  as  you  deserve  to  be  admired  and 
with  a  constancy  which  I  entreat  you  to  try  and  imitate.  Do, 
my  dear  Mr.  Plush,  try — for  the  sake  of  your  sincere  friend 
and  admirer, 

"'A. 

■'  P.S.  I  leave  the  wedding-dresses  behind  for  her :  the  dia- 
monds are  beautiful,  and  will  become  Mrs.  Plush  admirably.' 

"This  was  hall  ! — Confewshn  !  And  there  stood  the  foot- 
men sniggerin,  and  that  hojus  Mary  Hann  half  a  cryin,  half  a 
laffing  at  me  !     '  Who  has  she  gone  hoff  with  ?  '  rors  I ;  and 


,20  THE  DIARY  OF 

Mary  Hann  (smiling  with  one  hi)  just  touched  the  top  of  one 
of  the  Johns'  canes  who  was  goin  out  with  the  noats  to  put  hoff 
the  brekfst.     It  was  Silvertop  then  ! 

"  I  bust  out  of  the  house  in  a  stayt  of  diamoniacal  igsite- 
nient  ! 

"  The  stoary  of  that  ilorpmint  /have  no  art  to  tell.     Here 
it  is  from  the  Morning  Tatler  newspaper  : — 

"ELOPEMENT    IN    HIGH  LIFE. 

*'  THE  ONLY  AUTHENTIC  ACCOUNT. 

"  The  neighborhood  of  Berkeley  Square,  and  the  whole 
fa»shionable  world,  has  been  thrown  into  a  state  of  the  most 
painful  excitement  by  an  event  which  has  just  placed  a  noble 
family  in  great  perplexity  and  affliction. 

"It  has  long  been  known  among  the  select  nobility  and 
gentry  that  a  marriage  was  on  the  tapis  between  the  only 
daughter  of  a  Noble  Earl,  and  a  Gentleman  whose  rapid  for- 
tunes in  the  railway  world  have  been  the  theme  of  general 
remark.  Yesterday's  paper,  it  was  supposed,  in  all  human 
probability  would  have  contained  an  account  of  the  marriage 

of  James  De  la    PI — che,  Esq.,  and  the  Lady  Angelina , 

daughter  of  the  Right  Honorable  the  Earl  of  B — re — ores. 
The  preparations  for  this  ceremony  were  complete  :  we  had  the 
pleasure  of  inspecting  the  rich  trousseau  (prepared  by  Miss 
Twiddler,  of  Pall  Mall) ;  the  magnificent  jewels  from  the 
establishment  of  Messrs.  Storr  and  Mortimer ;  the  elegant 
marriage  cake,  which,  already  cut  up  and  portioned,  is,  alas  ! 
not  destined  to  be  eaten  by  the  friends  of  Mr.  De  la  PI — che  j 
the  superb  carriages,  and  magnificent  liveries,  which  had  been 
provided  in  a  style  of  the  most  lavish  yet  tasteful  sumptuosity. 
The  Right  Reverend  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Bullocksmithy  had 
arrived  in  town  to  celebrate  the  nuptials,  and  is  staying  at 
Mivart's.  What  must  have  been  the  feelings  of  that  venerable 
.prelate,  what  those  of  the  agonized  and  noble  parents  of  the 
Lady  Angelina — when  it  was  discovered,  on  the  day  previous 
to  the  wedding,  that  her  Ladyship  had  fled  the  paternal  man- 
sion !  To  the  venerable  Bishop  the  news  of  his  noble  niece's 
departure  might  have  been  fatal :  we  have  it  from  the  waiters  of 
Mivart's  that  his  Lordship  was  about  to  indulge  in  the  refresh- 
ment of  turtle  soup  when  the  news  was  brought  to  him  ; 
unmediate  apoplexy  was  apprehended  ;  but  Mr.  Macann,  the 
celebrated  surgeon  of  Westminster,  was  luckily  passing  through 
P)0nd  Street  at  the  time,  and  being  promptly  called  in,  bled 


C  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUG  HE.  I2i 

and  relieved  the  exemplary  patient.     His  Lordship  will  return 
to  the  Palace,  Bullocksmithy,  to-morrow. 

"  The  frantic  agonies  of  the  Right  Honorable  the  Earl  of 
Bareacres  can  be  imagined  by  every  paternal  heart.  Far  be  it 
from  us  to  disturb — impossible  is  it  for  us  to  describe  their  noble 
sorrow.  Our  reporters  have  made  inquiries  every  ten  minutes 
at  the  Earl's  mansion  in  Hill  Street,  regarding  the  health  of  the 
Noble  Peer  and  his  incomparable  Countess.  They  have  been 
received  with  a  rudeness  which  we  deplore  but  pardon.  One 
was  threatened  with  a  cane ;  another,  in  the  pursuit  of  his  offi- 
cial inquiries,  was  saluted  with  a  pail  of  water ;  a  third  gentle- 
man was  menaced  in  a  pugilistic  manner  by  his  Lordship's 
porter  ;  but  being  of  an  Irish  nation,  a  man  of  spirit  and  sinew, 
and  Master  of  Arts  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  the  gentleman 
of  our  establishment  confronted  the  menial,  and  having  severely 
beaten  him,  retired  to  a  neighboring  hotel  much  frequented  by 
the  domestics  of  the  surrounding  nobility,  and  there  obtained 
what  we  believe  to  be  the  most  accurate  particulars  of  this 
extraordinary  occurrence. 

"  George  Frederick  Jennings,  third  footman  in  the  establish- 
ment of  Lord  Bareacres,  stated  to  our  employe  as  follows : — 
Lady  Agelina  had  been  promised  to  Mr.  de  la  Pluche  for  near 
six  weeks.  She  never  could  abide  that  gentleman.  He  was 
the  laughter  of  all  the  servant's  hall.  Previous  to  his  elevation 
he  had  himself  been  engaged  in  a  domestic  capacity.  At  that 
period  he  had  offered  marriage  to  Mary  Ann  Hoggins,  who  was 
living  in  the  quality  of  ladies'-maid  in  the  family  where  Mr.  De 
la  P.  was  employed.  Miss  Hoggins  became  subsequently  lady's- 
maid  to  Lady  Angelina — the  elopement  was  arranged  between 
those  two.  It  was  Miss  Hoggins  who  delivered  the  note  which 
informed  the  bereaved  Mr.  Plush  of  his  loss. 

"  Samuel  Buttons,  page  to  the  Right  Honorable  the  Earl  of 
Bareacres,  was  ordered  on  Friday  afternoon  at  eleven  o'clock 
to  fetch  a  cabriolet  from  the  stand  in  Davies  Street.  He 
selected  the  cab  No.  19,796,  driven  by  George  Gregory  Macarty, 
a  one-eyed  man  from  Clonakilty,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cork, 
Ireland  {of  whom  more  anon),  and  waited,  according  to  his  instruc- 
tions, at  the  corner  of  Berkeley  Square  with  his  vehicle.  His 
young  lady,  accompanied  by  her  maid,  Miss  Mary  Ann  Hoggins, 
carrying  a  bandbox,  presently  arrived,  and  entered  the  cab 
with  the  box :  what  were  the  contents  of  that  box  we  have 
never  been  able  to  ascertain.  On  asking  her  Ladyship  whether 
he  should  order  the  cab  to  drive  in  any  particular  direction,  he 
was  told  to  drive  to  Madame  Crinoline's,  the  eminent  milliner 


122  THE  DIARY  OF 

in  Cavendish  Square.  On  requesting  to  know  whether  he 
should  accompany  her  Ladyship,  Buttons  was  peremptorily 
ordered  by  Miss  Hoggins  to  go  about  his  business. 

"  Having  now  his  clue,  our  reporter  instantly  went  in  search 
of  cab  19,796,  or  rather  the  driver  of  that  vehicle,  who  was  dis- 
covered with  no  small  difficulty  at  his  residence.  Whetstone 
Park,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  where  he  lives  with  his  family  of 
nine  children.  Having  received  two  sovereigns,  instead  doubt- 
less of  two  shillings  (his  regular  fare,  by  the  way,  would  have 
been  only  one-and-eightpence),  Macarty  had  not  gone  out  with 
the  cab  for  the  two  last  days,  passing  them  in  a  state  of  almost 
ceaseless  intoxication.  His  replies  were  very  incoherent  in  an- 
swer  to  the  queries  of  our  reporter ;  and,  had  not  that  gentle- 
man himself  been  a  compatriot,  it  is  probable  he  would  have 
refused  altogether  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  the  public. 

"  At  Madame  Crinoline's,  Miss  Hoggins  quitted  the  carriage, 
and  a  gentleman  entered  it,  Macarty  describes  him  as  a  very 
clever  gentleman  (meaning  tall)  with  black  mustaches,  Oxford- 
gray  trousers,  and  black  hat  and  a  pea-coat.  He  drove  the 
couple  to  the'Euston  Square  Station,  and  there  left  them.  How 
he  employed  his  time  subsequently  we  have  stated. 

"  At  the  Euston  Square  Station,  the  gentleman  of  our  estab- 
lishment learned  from  Frederick  Corduroy,  a  porter  there,  that 
a  gentleman  answering  the  above  description  had  taken  places 
to  Derby.  We  have  despatched  a  confidential  gentleman  thither, 
by  a  special  train,  and  shall  give  his  report  in  a  second  edition. 

SECOND    EDITION. 

"  [From  our  Reporter.) 

"  Newcastle,  Monday. 

"  I  am  just  arrived  at  this  ancient  town,  at  the  '  Elephant 
and  Cucumber  Hotel'  A  party  travelling  under  the  name  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  yo?ies,  the  gentleman  wearing  mustaches,  and 
having  with  them  a  blue  bandbox,  arrived  by  the  train  two 
hours  before  me,  and  have  posted  onwards  to  Scotland.  I 
have  ordered  four  horses,  and  write  this  on  the  hind  boot,  as 
they  are  putting  to. 

"THIRD    EDITION. 

"  Gretna  Green,  Alofiday  Evetiing. 
"  The  mystery  is  at  length  solved.     This  afternoon,  at  four 
o'clock,  the  Hymeneal  Blacksmith,  of  Gretna  Green,  celebrated 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUG  HE.  123 

the  marriage  between  George  Granby  Silvertop,  Esq.,  a  Lieu- 
tenant in  the  150th  Hussars,  third  son  of  General  John  Silver- 
top,  of  Silvertop  Hall,  Yorkshire,  and  lady  Emily  Silvertop, 
daughter  of  the  late  sister  of  the  present  Earl  of  Bareacres,  and 
the  Lady  Angelina  Amelia  Arethusa  Anaconda  Alexandrina 
Alicompania  Annemaria  Antoinetta,  daughter  of  the  last-named 
Earl  Bareacres. 

(^Here  follows  a  long  extract  from  the  Marriage  Service  in  the  Book  of 
Common  Prayer,  which  was  not  read  on  the  occasion,  and  need  not  be 
repeated  here. ) 

"  After  the  ceremony,  the  young  couple  partook  of  a  slight 
refreshment  of  sherry  and  water — the  former  the  Captain  pro- 
nounced to  be  execrable  ;  and,  having  myself  tasted  some 
glasses  from  the  very  same  bottle  with  which  the  young  and 
noble  pair  were  served,  I  must  say  I  think  the  Captain  was 
rather  hard  upon  mine  host  of  the  '  Bagpipes  Hotel  and  Post- 
ing-House,' whence  they  instantly  proceeded.  I  follow  them 
as  soon  as  the  horses  have  fed. 


"FOURTH    EDITION. 

"shameful  treatment  of  our  reporter. 

"  Whistlebinkie,  N.  B.  Monday,  midnight. 

"  I  arrived  at  this  romantic  little  villa  about  two  hours  after 
the  newly  married  couple,  whose  progress  I  have  the  honor  to 
trace,  reached  Whistlebinkie.  They  have  taken  up  their  resi- 
dence at  the  '  Cairngorm  Arms  ' — mine  is  at  the  other  hostelry, 
the  '  Clachan  of  Whistlebinkie.' 

"  On  driving  up  to  the  '  Cairngorm  Arms,'  I  found  a  gentle- 
man of  military  appearance  standing  at  the  door,  and  occupied 
seemingly  in  smoking  a  cigar.  It  was  very  dark  as  I  descended 
from  my  carriage,  and  the  gentleman  in  question  exclaimed, 
'  Is  it  you.  Southdown  my  boy  ?  You  have  come  too  late  ; 
unless  you  are  come  to  have  some  supper ; '  or  words  to  that 
effect.  I  explained  that  I  was  not  the  Lord  Viscount  South- 
down, and  politely  apprised  Captain  Silvertop  (for  I  justly 
concluded  the  individual  before  me  could  be  no  other)  of  his 
mistake. 

"  '  Who  the  deuce '  (the  Captain  used  a  stronger  term)  '  are 
you,  then  ? '  said  Mr.  Silvertop.  *  Are  you  Baggs  and  Tape- 
well,  my  uncle's  attorneys  ?  If  you  are,  you  have  come  too 
late  for  the  fair.' 


124 


THE  DIAR  V  OF 


"  I  briefly  explained  that  I  was  not  Baggs  and  Tape  well, 
but  that  my  name  was  J — ms,  and  that  I  was  a  gentleman  con- 
nected  with  the  establishment  of  the  Morjiing  2\itler  newspaper. 

"  '  And  what  has  brought  you  here,  Mr.  Morning  Tatler  ?  * 
asked  my  interlocutor,  rather  roughly.  My  answer  was  frank 
— that  the  disappearance  of  a  noble  lady  from  the  house  of  her 
friends  had  caused  the  greatest  excitement  in  the  metropolis, 
and  that  my  employers  were  anxious  to  give  the  public  every 
particular  regarding  an  event  so  singular. 

"  '  And  do  you  mean  to  say,  sir,  that  you  have  dogged  me 
all  the  way  from  London,  and  that  my  family  affairs  are  to  be 
published  for   the   readers  of  the  Morning  Tatler  newspaper  ? 

The  Morning  lailer  be (the  Captain  here  gave  utterance 

to  an  oath  which  I  shall  not  repeat)  and  you  too,  sir  :  you  im- 
pudent meddling  scoundrel.' 

"  '  Scoundrel,  sir  !  '  said  I.  '  Yes,'  replied  the  irate  gentle- 
man, seizing  me  rudely  by  the  collar — and  he  would  have  choked 
me,  but  that  my  blue  satin  stock  and  false  collar  gave  way,  and 
were  left  in  the  hands  of  this  gentlejnan.  '  Help,  landlord  ! '  I 
loudly  exclaimed,  adding,  I  believe,  'murder,' and  other  ex- 
clamations of  alarm.  In  vain  I  appealed  to  the  crowd,  which 
by  this  time  was  pretty  considerable  ;  they  and  the  unfeeling 
post-boys  only  burst  into  laughter,  and  called  out,  '  Give  it  him, 
Captain.'  A  struggle  ensued,  in  which  I  have  no  doubt  I 
should  have  had  the  better,  but  that  the  Captain,  joining  sud- 
denly in  the  general  and  indecent  hilarity,  which  was  doubled 
when  I  fell  down,  stopped  and  said,  '  Well,  Jims,  I  won't  fight 
on  my  marriage-day.  Go  into  the  tap,  Jims,  and  order  a  glass 
of  brandy-and-water  at  my  expense — and  mind  I  don't  see  your 
face  to-morrow  morning,  or  I'll  make  it  more  ugly  than  it  is.' 

"  With  these  gross  expressions  and  a  cheer  from  the  crowd, 
Mr.  Silvertop  entered  the  inn.  I  need  not  say  that  I  did  not 
partake  of  his  hospitality,  and  that  personally  I  despise  his  in- 
sults. I  make  them  known  that  they  may  call  down  the  indig- 
nation of  the  body  of  which  I  am  a  member,  and  throw  myself 
on  the  sympathy  of  the  public,  as  a  gentleman  shamefully 
assaulted  and  insulted  in  the  discharge  of  a  public  duty." 


"  Thus  you've  sean  how  the  flower  of  my  affeckshns  was 
tawn  out  of  my  busm,  and  my  art  was  left  bleading.  "Hange- 
tna  !  I  forgive  thee.  Mace  thou  be  appy !  If  ever  artfelti 
prayer  for  others  wheel  awailed  on  i,  the  beink  on  womb  you 
Irampled  addresses  those  subblygations  to  Evn  in  your  be-| ! 

"  I  went  liome  like  a  maniack,  after  hearing  the   anouncc' 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCHE.  125 

ment  of  Hangelina's  departer.  She'd  been  gone  twenty  hours 
when  I  heard  the  fatle  noose.  Purshoot  was  vain.  Suppose  I 
did  kitch  her  up,  they  were  married,  and  what  could  we  do  ? 
This  sensable  remark  I  made  to  Earl  Bareacres,  when  that  dis- 
tragted  nobleman  igspawstulated  with  me.  Er  who  was  to  have 
been  my  mother-in-lor,  the  Countiss,  I  never  from  that  momink 
sor  agin.  My  presnts,  troosoes,  juels,  &c.,  were  sent  back — 
with  the  igsepshn  of  the  diminds  and  Cashmear  shawl,  which 
her  Ladyship  coodn^tfitid.  Ony  it  was  wispered  that  at  the  nex 
buthday  she  was  seen  with  a  shawl  igsackly  of  the  same pattn. 
Let  er  keep  it. 

"  Southdown  was  phurius.  He  came  to  me  hafter  the 
ewent,  and  wanted  me  to  adwance  50  lb.,  so  that  he  might  per- 
shew  his  fewgitif  sister — but  I  wasn't  to  be  ad  with  that  sort  of 
chaugh — there  was  no  more  money  for  that  famly.  So  he  went 
away,  and  gave  huttrance  to  his  feelinx  in  a  poem,  which  ap- 
peared (price  2  guineas)  in  the  Bel  Asombly. 

"  All  the  juilers,  manchumakers,  lacemen,  coch  bilders, 
apolstrers,  hors  dealers,  and  weddencake  makers  came  pawring 
in  with  their  bills,  haggravating  feelings  already  woondid  be- 
yond enjurants.  That  madniss  didn't  seaze  me  that  night  was 
a  mussy.  Fever,  fewry,  and  rayge  rack'd  my  hagnized  braind, 
and  drove  sleap  from  my  throbbink  ilids.  Hall  night  I  follered 
Hangelinar  in  imadganation  along  the  North  Road.  I  wented 
cusses  &  mallydickshuns  on  the  hinfamus  Silvertop.  I  kickd 
and  rord  in  my  unhuttarable  whoe  !  I  seazd  my  pillar  :  I 
pitcht  into  it :  pummld  it,  strangled  it.  Ha  har  !  I  thought 
it  was  Silvertop  writhing  in  my  Jint  grasp  ;  and  taw  the  hor- 
dayshis  villing  lim  from  lim  in  the  terrible  strenth  of  my  de- 
spare  !  *  *  *  Let  me  drop  a  cutting  over  the  memries  of 
that  night.  When  my  boddy-suvnt  came  with  my  ot  water  in 
the  mawning,  the  livid  copse  in  the  charnill  was  not  payler  than 
the  gashly  De  la  Pluche  ! 

"  '  Give  me  the  Share-list,  Mandeville,'  I  micanickly  igs- 
claimed.  I  had  not  perused  it  for  the  past  3  days,  my  etention 
being  engayged  elseware.  Hevns  &  huth  ! — what  was  it  I  red 
there  ?  What  was  it  that  made  me  spring  outabed  as  if  sum- 
bady  had  given  me  cold  pig  ? — I  red  Rewin  in  that  Share-list 

— the  Pannick  was  in  full  hoparation  ! 

****** 

"  Shall  I  describe  that  kitastrafy  with  which  hall  Hengland 
is  familiar  ?  My  &  rifewses  to  cronnicle  the  misfortns  which 
lassarated  my  bleeding  art  in  Hoctober  last.  On  the  fust  of 
Hawgust  where  was  I .-'     Director  of  twenty-three  Companies  ; 

9 


126  THE  DIARY  OF 

older  of  scrip  hall  at  a  primmium,  and  worth  at  least  a  quarter 
of  a  millium.  On  Lord  Mare's  day,  my  Saint  Helenas  quotid 
at  14  pm,  were  down  at  ^  discount ;  my  Central  Ichaboes  at 
y^  discount ;  my  Table  Mounting  &  Hottentot  Grand  Trunk, 
no  where  3  my  Bathershins  and  Derrynane  Beg,  of  which  I'd 
bought  2000  for  the  account  at  17  primmium,  down  to  nix  ;  my 
Juan  Fernandez,  my  Great  Central  Oregons,  prostrit.  There 
was  a  momint  when  I  thought  I  shouldn't  be  alive  to  write  my 
own  tail !  " 

(Here  follow  in  Mr.  Plush's  MS.  about  twenty-four  pages  of 
railroad  calculations,  which  we  pretermit.) 

"  Those  beests.  Pump  &  Aldgate,  once  so  cringing  and 
umble,  wrote  me  a  threatnen  letter  because  I  overdrew  my  ac- 
count three-and-sixpence :  woodn't  advance  me  live  thousand 
on  25,000  worth  of  scrip  ;  kep  me  waiting  2  hours  when  I 
asked  to  see  the  house  ;  and  then  sent  out  Spout,  the  jewnior 
partner,  saying  they  wouldn't  discount  my  paper,  and  implawed 
me  to  clothes  my  account.  I  did  :  I  paid  the  three-and-six 
balliance,  and  never  sor  'em  mor. 

"  The  market  fell  daily.  The  Rewin  grew  wusser  and  wus- 
ser.  Hagnies,  Hagnies  !  It  wasn't  in  the  city  aloan  my  mis- 
fortns  came  upon  me.  They  beerded  me  in  my  own  ome. 
The  biddle  who  kips  watch  at  the  Halbany  wodn  keep  misfortn 
out  of  my  chambers  ;  and  Mrs.  Twiddler,  of  Pall  Mall,  and 
Mr.  Hunx,  of  Long  Acre,  put  egsicution  into  my  apartmince, 
and  swep  off  every  stick  of  my  furniture.  '  Wardrobe  &  furni- 
ture of  a  man  of  fashion.'  What  an  adwertisement  George  Rob- 
bins  did  make  of  it ;  and  what  a  crowd  was  collected  to  laff  at 
the  prospick  of  my  ruing !  My  chice  plait ;  my  seller  of  wine  ; 
my  picturs — that  of  myself  included  (it  was  Maryhann,  bless 
her !  that  bought  it,  unbeknown  to  me)  ;  all — all  went  to  the 
ammer.  That  brootle  Fitzwarren,  my  ex-vally,  womb  I  met, 
fimilliarly  slapt  me  on  the  sholder,  and  said,  'Jeames,  my  boy, 
you'd  best  go  into  suvvis  aginn.' 

*'  I  did  go  into  suvvis — the  wust  of  all  suvvices — I  went 
into  the  Queen's  Bench  Prison,  and  lay  there  a  misrabble  captif 
for  6  mortial  weeks.  Misrabble  shall  I  say?  no,  not  misrabble 
altogether  ;  there  was  sunlike  in  the  dunjing  of  the  pore  pris- 
ner.  I  had  visitors.  A  cart  used  to  drive  hup  to  the  prizn 
gates  of  Saturdays  ;  a  wash3^woman's  cart,  with  a  fat  old  lady  in 
it,  and  a  young  one.  Wiio  was  that  young  one  ?  Every  one 
who  has  an  art  can  gess,  it  was  my  blue-eyed  blushing  hangel 
of  a  Mary  Hann  !  '  Shall  we  take  him  out  in  the  linnen-bas- 
ket  grandmamma  ? '   Mary  Hann  said.      Bless  her,  she'd  ai 


C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUG  HE.  127 

ready  learned  to  say  grandmamma  quite  natral  ;  but  I  didn't 
go  out  that  way;  I  went  out  by  the  door  a  whitewashed  man. 
Ho,  what  a  feast  there  was  at  Healing  the  day  I  came  out ! 
I'd  thirteen  shillings  left  when  I  bought  the  gold  ring,  1  wasn't 
prowd.  I  turned  the  mangle  for  three  weeks ;  and  then  Uncle 
Bill  said,  '  Well,  there  is  some  good  in  the  feller  j '  and  it  was 
agreed  that  we  should  marry." 

The  Plush  manuscript  finishes  here  :  it  is  many  weeks  since 
we  saw  the  accomplished  writer,  and  we  have  only  just  learned 
his  fate.  We  are  happy  to  state  that  it  is  a  comfortable  and 
almost  a  prosperous  one. 

The  Honorable  and  Right  Reverend  Lionel  Thistlewood, 
Lord  Bishop  of  Bullocksmithy,  was  mentioned  as  the  uncle 
of  Lady  Angelina  Silvertop.  Her  elopement  with  her  cousin 
caused  deep  emotion  to  the  venerable  prelate :  he  returned  to 
the  palace  at  Ikillocksmithy,  of  which  he  had  been  for  thirty 
years  the  episcopal  ornament,  and  where  be  marijied  three 
wives,  who  lie  buried  in  his  Cathedral  Church  of  St.  Boniface, 
Bullocksmithy. 

The  admirable  man  has  rejoined  those  whom  he  loved.  As 
he  was  preparing  a  charge  to  his  clergy  in  his  study  after 
dinner,  the  Lord  Bishop  fell  suddenly  down  in  a  fit  of  apoplexy ; 
his  butler,  bringing  in  his  accustomed  dish  of  devilled  kidneys 
for  supper,  discovered  the  venerable  form  extended  on  the 
Turkey  carpet  with  a  glass  of  Madeira  in  his  hand  ;  but  life 
was  extinct :  and  surgical  aid  was  therefore  not  particularly 
useful. 

All  the  late  prelate's  wives  had  fortunes,  which  the  admirable 
man  increased  by  thrift,  the  judicious  sale  of  leases  which  fell 
in  during  his  episcopacy,  &c.  He  left  three  hundred  thousand 
pounds — divided  between  his  nephew  and  niece — not  a  greater 
sum  than  has  been  left  by  several  deceased  Irish  prelates. 

What  Lord  Southdown  has  done  with  his  share  we  are  not 
called  upon  to  state.  He  has  composed  an  epitaph  to  the 
Martyr  of  Bullocksmithy,  which  does  him  infinite  credit.  But 
we  are  happy  to  state  that  Lady  Angelina  Silvertop  1  les  'nted 
five  hundred  pounds  to  her  faithful  and  affectionate  ,  errant, 
Mary  Ann  Hoggins,  on  her  marriage  with  Mr.  James  Plush,  to 
whom  her  Ladyship  also  made  a  handsome  present — namely, 
the  lease,  good-will,  and  fixtures  of  the  "  Wheel  of  Fortune  " 
public-house,  near  Shepherd's  Market,  May  Fair :  a  house 
greatly  frequented  by  all  the  nobility's  footmen,  doing  a  genteel 
.stroke  of  business  in  the  neighborhood,  and  where,  as  we  have 
heard,  the  "  Butler's  Club  "  is  held. 


t28         THE  DIARY  OF  C.  JEAMES  DE  LA  PLUCffE. 

Here  Mr.  Plush  lives  happy  in  a  blooming  and  interesting 
wife  :  reconciled  to  a  middle  sphere  of  life,  as  he  was  to  a 
humbler  and  a  higher  one  before.  He  has  shaved  off  his 
whiskers,  and  accommodates  himself  to  an  apron  with  perfect 
good-numor.  A  gentleman  connected  with  this  establishment 
dined  at  the  "  Wheel  of  Fortune  "  the  other  day,  and  collected 
the  above  particulars.  Mr.  Plush  blushed  rather,  as  he  brought 
in  the  first  dish,  and  told  his  story  very  modestly  over  a  pint 
of  excellent  port.  He  had  only  one  thing  in  life  to  complain 
of,  he  said — that  a  witless  version  of  his  adventures  had  been 
produced  at  the  Princess's  theatre,  "without  with  your  leaf  or 
by  your  leaf,"  as  he  expressed  it.  "Has  for  the  rest,"  the 
worthy  fellow  said,  "  I'm  appy — praps  betwixt  you  and  me  I'm 
in  my  proper  spear.  I  enjy  my  glass  of  beer  or  port  (with 
your  elth  &  my  suvvice  to  you,  sir.)  quite  as  much  as  my  clarrit 
in  my  prawsprus  days.  I've  a  good  busniss,  which  is  likely  to 
be  better.  If  a  man  can't  be  appy  with  such  a  wife  as  my 
Mary  Hann,  he's  a  beest ;  and  when  a  christning  takes  place 
in  our  family,  will  you  give  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Fimch  and 
ask  him  to  be  godfather." 


LETTERS    OF    JEAMES. 


JEAMES  ON  TIME  BARGINGS, 

Peraps  at  this  present  momink  of  Railway  Hagetation  and 
unsafety  the  following  little  istory  of  a  young  friend  of  mine 
may  hact  as  an  olesome  warning  to  hother  week  and  hirresolute 
young  gents. 

"  Young  Frederick  Timmins  was  the  horphan  son  of  a 
respectable  cludgyman  in  the  West  of  Hengland.  Hadopted 
by  his  uncle,  Colonel  T ,  of  the  Hoss-Mareens,  and  regard- 
less of  expence,  this  young  man  was  sent  to  Heaton  Collidge, 
and  subsiquintly  to  Hoxford,  where  he  was  very  nearly  being 
Senior  Rangier.  He  came  to  London  to  study  for  the  lor. 
His  prospix  was  bright  indead  ;  and  He  lived  in  a  secknd  fiore 
in  Jerming  Street,  having  a  gluteal  inkum  of  two  hundred  lbs. 
jDcr  hannum, 

"  With  this  andsum  enuity  it  may  be  supposed  that  Fred- 
erick wanted  for  nothink.  Nor  did  he.  He  was  a  moral  and 
v/ell-educated  young  man,  who  took  care  of  his  close  ;  pollisht 
his  hone  tea-party  boots ;  cleaned  his  kidd-gloves  with  injer 
rubber;  and,  when  not  invited  to  dine  out,  took  his  meals 
reglar  at  the  Hoxford  and  Cambridge  Club — where  (unless 
somebody  treated  him)  he  was  never  known  to  igseed  his  alf- 
pint  of  Marsally  Wine. 

"  Merrits  and  vuttues  such  as  his  coodnt  long  pass  unper- 

seavd  in  the  world.     Admitted  to  the  most  fashnabble  parties, 

it  wasn't  long  befor  sevral  of  the  young  ladies  viewed  him  with 

a  favorable  i ;  one,  ixpecially,  the  lovely  Miss  Hemily  Mullig- 

atawney,  daughter  of  the  Heast-Injar  IJerector  of  that  name. 

As  she  was  the  richest  gal  of  all  the  season,  of  corse  Frederick 

fell   in   love  with  her.     His  haspirations  were  on   the   pint  of 

being  crowndid  with   success  ;  and  it  was   agreed  that  as  soon 

as  he  was  called  to  the  bar,  when  he  would  sutnly  be  apinted 

a  Judge,  or  a  revising  barrister,  or  Lord  Chanslor,  he  should 

lead  her  to  the  halter. 

(129) 


130  LETTERS  OF  JEAMES. 

"Wliat  life  could  be  more  desirable  than  Frederick's?  He 
gave  up  his  mornings  to  perfeshnl  studdy,  under  Mr.  Bluebag, 
the  heminent  pleader ;  he  devoted  his  hevenings  to  helegant 
sosiaty  at  his  Clubb,  or  with  his  hadord  Hemily.  He  had  no 
cares  ;  no  detts  ;  no  egstravigancies  ;  he  never  was  known  to 
ride  in  a  cabb,  unless  one  of  his  tip-top  friends  lent  it  him  ;  to 
go  to  a  theayter  unless  he  got  a  border ;  or  to  henter  a  tavern 
or  smoke  a  cigar.  If  prosperraty  was  hever  chocked  out,  it  was 
for  that  young  nian. 

"  But  suckmstanccs  arose.  Fatle  suckmstances  for  pore 
Frederick  Timmins.     The  Railway  Hoperations  began. 

"  For  some  time,  immerst  in  lor  and  love,  in  the  hardent 
hoccupations  of  his  cheembers,  or  the  sweet  sosiaty  of  his 
Hemily,  Frederick  took  no  note  of  railroads.  He  did  not 
reckonize  the  jigantlc  revalution  which  with  hiron  strides  was 
a  walkin  over  the  countr}\  But  they  began  to  be  talked  of 
even  in  his  quiat  haunts.  Heven  in  the  Hoxford  and  Cam- 
bridge Clubb,  fellers  were  a  speculatin.  Tom  Thumper  (of 
Brasen  Nose)  cleared  four  thousand  lb. ;  Bob  Bullock  (of 
Hexeter),  who  had  lost  all  his  proppaty  gambling,  had  set 
himself  up  again  ;  and  Jack  Deuceace,  who  had  won  it,  had 
won  a  small  istate  besides  by  lucky  specklations  in  the  Share 
Markit. 

'■'' Hevery  body  won.  'Why  shouldn't  I  ? '  thought  pore 
Fred  ;  and  having  saved  loo  lb.,  he  began  a  writin  for  shares 
— using,  like  an  ickonominicle  feller  as  he  was,  the  Clubb 
paper  to  a  prodigious  igstent.  All  the  Railroad  directors,  his 
friends,  helped  him  to  shares — the  allottments  came  tumbling 
in — he  took  the  primmiums  by  fifties  and  hundreds  a  day.  His 
desk  was  cramd  full  of  bank  notes  :  his  brane  world  with 
igsitement. 

"  He  gave  up  going  to  the  Temple,  and  might  now  be  seen 
hall  day  about  Capel  Court.  He  took  no  more  hinterest  in 
lor ;  but  his  whole  talk  was  of  railroad  lines.  His  desk  at  Mr. 
Eluebag's  was  filled  full  of  prospectisises,  and  that  legal  gent 
wrote  to  Fred's  uncle,  to  say  he  feared  he  was  neglectin  his 
bisniss. 

"  Alass  !  he  was  neglectin  it,  and  all  his  sober  and  industerous 
habits.  He  begann  to  give  dinners,  and  thought  nothin  of 
partys  to  Greenwich  or  Richmond.  He  didn't  see  his  Hemily 
near  so  often  :  although  the  hawdacious  and  misguided  young 
man  might  have  done  so  much  more  heasily  now  than  before  : 
for  now  lie  kep  a  Broom  ! 

"But  there's  a  tumminus  to  hevery  Railway.     Fred's  was 


JEAMES  ON  TIME  B ARCINGS.  131 

approachin  :  in  an  evil  liour  lie  began  making  time-bargings. 
Let  this  be  a  warning  to  all  young  fellers,  and  Fred's  huntimely 
hend  hoperate  on  them  in  a  moral  pint  of  vu  ! 

"  You  all  know  under  what  favrabble  suckemstanses  the 
Great  Hafrican  Line,  the  Grand  Niger  Junction,  or  Gold  Coast 
and  Timbuctoo  (Provishnal)  Hatmospheric  Railway  came  out 
four  weeks  ago  :  deposit  ninepence  per  share  of  20/.  (six 
elephant's  teeth,  twelve  tons  of  palm-oil,  or  four  healthy  niggers, 
African  currenc}') — the  shares  of  this  helegeble  investment 
rose  to  I,  2,  3,  in  the  Markit.  A  happy  man  was  Fred  when, 
after  paying  down  100  ninepences  (3/.  15-5".),  he  sold  his  shares 
for  250/.  He  gave  a  dinner  at  the  "Star  and  Garter"  that 
very  day.     I  promise  you  there  was  no  Marsally  i/ure. 

"  Nex  day  they  were  up  at  3^4^.  This  put  Fred  in  a  rage  : 
they  rose  to  5,  he  was  in  afewry.  '  What  an  ass  I  was  to  sell, 
said  he,  '  when  all  this  money  was  to  be  won  ! ' 

" '  And  so  you  wei-e  an  Ass,'  said  his  partiklar  friend,  Col 
onel  Claw,  K.  X.  R.,  a  director  of  the  line,  '  a  double-eared  Ass, 
My  dear  fellow,  the  shares  will  be  at  15  next  week.  Will  you 
give  me  your  solemn  word  of  honor  not  to  breathe  to  mortal 
man  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  ? ' 

"  '  Honor  bright,'  says  Fred. 

'• '  Hudson  has  joined  the  Line.'  Fred  didn't  say  a 
word  more,  but  went  tumbling  down  to  the  City  in  his  Broom. 
You  know  the  state  of  the  streats.     Cla\x  zuent  by  water. 

" '  Buy  me   one   thousand    Hafricans  for   the   30th,'  cries 

Fred,  busting  into  his  broker's  ;  and  they  were  done  for  him 

at  47yi. 

***** 

"  Can't  you  guess  the  rest  ?  Haven't  you  seen  the  Share 
List  ?  which  says  : — • 

"  '  Great  Africans,  paid  ()d. ;  price  \i  par.' 

"  And  that's  what  came  of  my  pore  dear  friend  Timmins's 
time-barging. 

"  What'U  become  of  him  I  can't  say  ;  for  nobody  has  seen 
him  since.  Hislodgins  in  Jerming  Street  is  to  let.  His  brokers 
in  vain  deplores  his  absence.  His  Uncle  has  declared  his 
marriage  with  his  housekeeper ;  and  the  Morning  Erald  (that 
emusing  print)  has  a  paragraf  yesterday  in  the  fashnabble  news, 
headed  '•  Marriage  in  High  Life. — The  rich  and  beautiful  INIiss 
Jklulligatawney,  of  Portland  Place  is  to  be  speedily  united  to 
Colonel  Claw.  K.  X.  R.' 

"  jEAMES.'f 


132  LETTERS  OF  JEAMES- 


JEAMES  ON  THE  GAUGE  QUESTION. 

You  will  scarcely  praps  reckonize  in  this  little  skitch  tha 
haltered  liniments  of  i,  with  woos  face  the  reders  of  your 
valluble  mislny  were  once  fimiliar, — the  unfortnt  Jeames  de  la 
Pluche,  fomly  so  selabrated  in  the  fashnabble  suckles,  now  the 
pore  Jeames  Plush,  landlord  of  the  "  Wheel  of  Fortune  "  public 
house.  Yes,  that  is  me  ;  that  is  my  haypun  which  I  wear  as 
becomes  a  publican — those  is  the  checkers  which  hornyment  the 
pillows  of  my  dor,  I  am  like  the  Roman  Genral,  St.  Cenatus, 
equal  to  any  emudgency  of  Fortun.  I,  who  have  drunk  Sham- 
pang  in  my  time,  aint  now  abov  droring  a  \  pint  of  Small 
Bier,  As  for  my  wife — that  Angel — I've  not  ventured  to  depigt 
her.  Fansy  her  a  sittn  in  the  Bar.  smilin  like  a  sunflower — and, 
ho,  dear  Fundi  I  happy  in  nussing  a  deer  little  darlint  totsy- 
wotsy  of  a  Jeames,  with  my  air  to  a  curl,  and  my  i's  to  a  T ! 

"I  never  thought  I  should  have  been  injuiced  to  write  any- 
thing but  a  Bill  agin,  much  less  to  edress  you  on  Railway  Sub- 
jix — which  with  all  my  sole  I  abaw.  Railway  letters,  obbigations 
to  pay  hup,  gluteal  inquirys  as  to  my  Salissator's  name,  &c., 
&c.,  I  dispize  and  scorn  artily.  But  as  a  man,  an  usbnd,  a 
father,  and  a  freebon  Brittn,  my  jewty  compels  me  to  come  for- 
woods,  and  igspress  my  opinion  upon  that  nashnal  iieivsa?tce — 
the  break  of  Gage. 

"An  enteresting  ewent  in  a  noble  family  with  which  I  once 
very  nearly  had  the  honer  of  being  kinected,  acurd  a  few  weex 

sins,  when  the  Lady  Angelina  S ,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of 

B cres,  presented  the  gallant   Capting,  her  usband,  with  a 

Son  &  hair.  Nothink  would  satasfy  her  Ladyship  but  that  her 
old  and  attacht  famdyshamber,  my  wife  Mary  Hann   Plush, 

should  be  presnt  upon  this  hospicious  occasion.     Capting  S ■ 

■was  not  jellus  of  me  on  account  of  my  former  attachment  to  his 
Lady.  I  cunsented  that  my  Mary  Hann  should  attend  her, 
and  me,  my  wife,  and  our  dear  babby  acawdingly  set  out  for  our 
noable  frend's  residence,  Honeymoon  Lodge,  near  Cheltenham. 

"  Sick  of  all  Railroads  myself,  I  wisht  to  poast  it  in  a  Chay 
and  4,  but  Mary  Hann,  with  the  hobstenacy  of  her  Sex,  was 
bent  upon  Railroad  travelling,  and  I  yealded,  like  all  husbinds. 
We  set  out  by  the  Great  Westn,  in  an  eavle  Hour. 

"We  didnt  take  much  liiggitch — my  wife's  things  in  the 
ushal  bandboxes — mine  in  a  potmancho.     Our  dear  little  Jamci 


JEAMES  ON  THE  GAUGE  QUESTION:  133 

Angelo's  (called  so  in  complament  to  his  noble  Godmamma) 
craddlc,  and  a  small  supply  of  a  few  100  weight  of  Topsan- 
bawtems,  Farinashious  food,  and  Lady's  fingers,  for  that  dear 
child,  who  is  now  6  months  old,  with  2Lperdidgiis  appatite.  Like- 
wise we  were  charged  with  a  bran  new  Medsan  chest  for  my 
lady,  from  Skivary  &  Morris,  containing  enough  rewbub, 
Daffy's  Alixir,  Godfrey's  cawdle,  with  a  few  score  of  parsles 
for  Lady  Hangelina's  family  and  owsehold  ;  about  2000  spessy- 
mins  of  Babby  linning  from  Mrs.  Flummary's  in  Regent  Street, 
a  Chayny  Cresning  bowl  from  old  Lady  Bareacres  (big  enough 
to  immus  a  Halderman),  &  a  case  marked  '  Glass,'  from  her 
ladyship's  meddicle  man,  which  were  stowed  away  together; 
had  to  this  an  ormylew  Cradle,  with  rose-colored  Satting  &  Pink 
lace  hangings,  held  up  by  a  gold  tuttle-dove,  &c.  We  had,  in- 
gluding  James  Hangelo's  rattle  &  my  umbrellow,  73  packidges 
in  all. 

"  We  got  on  very  well  as  far  as  Swindon,  where,  in  the 
Splendid  Refreshment  room,  there  was  a  galaxy  of  lovely  gals 
in  cottn  velvet  spencers,  who  serves  out  the  scop,  and  i  of  whom 
maid  an  impresshn  upon  this  Art  which  I  shoodn't  like  Mary 
Hann  to  know — and  here,  to  our  infanit  disgust,  we  changed 
carridges.  I  forgot  to  say  that  we  were  in  the  secknd  class, 
having  with  us  James  Hangelo,  and  23  other  light  harticles. 

"  Fust  inconveniance  ;  and  almost  as  bad  as  break  of  gage. 
I  cast  my  hi  upon  the  gal  in  cottn  velvet,  and  wanted  some 
soop,  of  coarse  ;  but  seasing  up  James  Hangelo  (who  was  layin 
his  dear  little  pors  on  an  Am  Sangwidg)  and  seeing  my 
igspresshn  of  hi — '  James,'  says  Mary  Hann,  '  instead  of  looking 
at  that  young  lady — and  not  so  very  young,  neither — be  pleased 
to  look  to  our  packidges,  &  place  them  in  the  other  carridge.' 
I  did  so  with  an  evy  Art.  I  eranged  them  23  articles  in  the 
opsit  carridg,  only  missing  my  umberella  &  baby's  rattle  ;  and 
just  as  I  came  back  for  my  baysn  of  soop,  the  beast  of  a  bell 
rings,  the  whizzling  injians  proclayms  the  time  of  our  depart- 
ure.— &  farewell  soop  and  cottn  velvet.  Mary  Hann  was  sulky. 
She  said  it  was  my  losing  the  umberella.  If  it  had  been  a 
iotton  velvet  umberel/a  I  could  have  understood.  James  Hangelo 
sittn  on  my  knee  was  evidently  unwell ;  without  his  coral :  & 
for  20  miles  that  blessid  babby  kep  up  a  rawring,  which  caused 
all  the  passingers  to  simpithize  with  him  igseedingly. 

"  We  arrive  at  Gloster,  and  there  fansy  my  disgust  at  bein 
ableeged  to  undergo  another  change  of  carridges  !  Fancy  me 
holding  up  moughs,  tippits,  cloaks,  and  baskits,  and  James 
Hangelo  rawring  still  like  mad,  and  pretending  to  shuperintend 


134  LETTERS  OF  JEAMES. 

the  carrying  over  our  luggage  from  the  broad  gage  to  the 
narrow  gage.  '  Mary  Hann/  says  I,  rot  to  desperation,  '  I 
shall  throttle  this  darling  if  he  goes  on.'  '  Do,'  says  she — '  and 
go  into  the  rcfrcsJwient  room,  says  she — a  snatchin  the  babby 
out  of  my  arms.  '  Do  go,'  says  she,  'youre  not  fit  to  look  after 
luggage,'  and  she  began  lulling  James  Hangelo  to  sleep  with 
one  hi,  while  she  looked  after  the  packets  with  the  other.  '  Now 
Sir  1  if  you  please,  mind  that  packet ! — pretty  darling — easy 
with  that  box.  Sir,  its  glass — pooooty  poppet — where's  the  deal 
case,  marked  arrowroot,  No.  24? '  she  cried,  reading  out  of  a 
list  she  had. — And  poor  little  James  went  to  sleep.  The  porters 
were  bundling  and  carting  the  various  harticles  with  no  more 
ceremony  than  if  each  package  had  been  of  cannon-ball. 

"At  last--bang  goes  a  package  marked  '  Glass,'  and  con- 
taining the  Chayny  bowl  and  Lady  Bareacres'  mixture,  into  a 
large  white  bandbox,  with  a  crash  and  a  smash.  '  It's  My 
Lady's  box  from  Crinoline's  ! '  cries  Mary  Hann  ;  and  she  puts 
down  the  child  on  the  bench,  and  rushes  forward  to  inspect  the 
dammidge.  You  could  hear  the  Chayny  bowls  clinking  inside  ; 
and  Lady  B.'s  mixture  (which  had  the  igsack  smell  of  cherry 
brandy)  was  dribbling  out  over  the  smashed  bandbox  contain- 
ing a  white  child's  cloak,  trimmed  with  Blown  lace  and  lined 
with  white  satting. 

"  As  James  was  asleep,  and  I  was  by  this  time  uncommon 

hungry,  I  thought  I  would  go  into  the  Refreshment  Room  and 

just  take  a  little  soup  ;  so  I  wrapped  him  up  in  his  cloak  and 

laid  him  by  his  mamma,  and  went  off.     There's  not  near  such 

good  attendance  as  at  Swindon. 

******* 

"  We  took  our  places  in  the  carriage  in  the  dark,  both  of  us 
covered  with  a  pile  of  packages,  and  Mary  Hann  so  sulky  that 
she  would  not  speak  for  some  minutes.  At  last  she  spoke 
out — 

"  '  Have  you  all  the  small  parcels  ? 

"  'Twenty-three  in  all,'  says  L 

"  *  Then  give  me  the  baby.' 

"  '  Give  you  what  ? '  says  \. 

"  *  Give  me  the  baby.' 

"  *  What,  haven't  y-y-yoooo  got  him  ?  '  says  I. 

******* 

"O  Mussy !  You  should  have  heard  her  sreak  1  We'd  left 
him  oil  the  Icd^^e  at  Glosfer. 

"It  all  came  of  the  break  of  gage." 


MR.  JEAMES  again:  135 


MR.  JEAMES  AGAIN. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Punch, — As  nevvmarus  inquiries  have  been 
maid  both  at  my  privit  ressddence,  '  ITie  Wheel  of  Fortune 
Otel,'  and  at  your  Hoffis,  regarding  the  fate  of  that  dear  babby, 
James  Hangelo,  whose  primmiture  dissappearnts  caused  such 
hagnies  to  his  distracted  parents,  I  must  begg,  dear  sir,  tlie 
permission  to  oclcupy  a  part  of  your  valublecollams  once  more, 
and  hease  the  public  mind  about  my  blessid  boy. 

"  Wictims  of  that  nashnal  cuss,  the  Broken  Gage,  me  and 
Mrs.  Plush  was  left  in  the  train  to  Cheltenham,  soughring  from 
that  most  disagreeble  of  complaints,  a  halmost  broken  Art,  The 
skreems  of  Mrs.  Jeames  might  be  said  almost  to  out-Y  the 
squeel  of  the  dying,  as  we  rusht  into  that  fashnable  Spaw,  and 
my  pore  Mary  Hann  found  it  was  not  Baby,  but  Bundles  I  had 
in  my  lapp. 

"  When  the  Old  Dowidger  Lady  Bareacres,  who  was  waiting 
heagerly  at  the  train,  herd  that  owing  to  that  ^bawminable 
brake  of  Gage  the  luggitch,  her  Ladyship's  Cherrybrandy  box, 
the  cradle  for  Lady  Hangelina's  baby,  the  lace,  crockary  and 
chany,  was  rejuiced  to  one  immortial  smash  ;  the  old  cat  howld 
at  me  and  pore  dear  Mary  Hann,  as  if  it  was  huss,  and  not  the 
infunnle  Brake  of  Gage,  was  to  blame ;  and  as  if  we  ad  no 
misfortns  of  our  hown  to  deplaw.  She  bust  out  about  my 
stupid  imparence ;  called  Mary  Hann  a  good  for  nothink 
creecher,  and  wep,  and  abewsd,  and  took  on  about  her  broken 
Chayny  Bowl,  a  great  deal  more  than  she  did  about  a  dear  little 
Christian  child.  '  Don't  talk  to  me  abowt  your  bratt  of  a 
babby'  (seshe)  ;  '  where's  my  bowl  ? — where's  my  bewtiffle  Pint 
lace .''  —  All  in  rewins  through  your  stupiddaty,  you  brute, 
you ! ' 

"  '  Bring  your  haction  against  the  Great  Western,  Maam,' 
says  I,  quite  riled  by  this  crewel  and  unfealing  hold  wixen. 
*  Ask  the  pawters  at  Gloster,  why  your  goods  is  spiled — it's  not 
the  first  time  theyve  been  asked  the  question.  Git  the  gage 
haltered  against  the  next  time  you  send  for  medsan — and  mean- 
wild  buy  some  at  the  "  Plow " — they  keep  it  very  good  and 
strong  there,  I'll  be  bound.  Has  for  us,  we're  going  back  to 
the  cussid  station  at  Gloster,  in  such  of  our  blessid  child.' 

"  '  You  don't  mean  to  say,  young  woman,'  seshe,  '  that 
you're  not  going  to  Lady  Hangelina  :  what's  her  dear  boy  to 
do  ?  who's  to  nuss  it  ? ' 


136  LETTERS  OF  JEAMES. 


U  I 


You  nuss  it,  Maam/  says  I.  'Me  and  Mary  Hann 
return  this  momint  by  the  Fly.'  And  so  (whishing  her  a 
suckastic  ajew)  Mrs.  Jeames  and  I  lejD  into  a  one  oss  weakle, 
and  told  the  driver  to  go  like  mad  back  to  Gloster. 

"  I  can"t  describe  my  pore  gals  hagny  juring  our  ride.  She 
sat  in  the  carridge  as  silent  as  a  milestone,  and  as  madd  as  a 
march  Air.  When  we  got  to  Gloster  she  sprang  hout  of  it  as 
wild  as  a  Tigris,  and  rusht  to  the  station,  up  to  the  fatle 
Bench. 

"  '  My  child,  my  child,'  shreex  she,  in  a  boss,  hot  voice. 

*  Where's  my  infant .''  a  little  bewtifle  child,  with  blue  eyes, — • 
dear  Mr.  Policeman,  give  it  me — a  thousand  guineas  for  it.' 

"  '  Faix,  Mam,'  says  the  man,  a  Hirishman, '  and  the  divvie 
a  babby  have  I  seen  this  day  except  thirteen  of  my  own — and 
you're  welcome  to  any  one  of  thetn,  and  kindly.' 

"  *  As  if  his  babby  was  equal  to  ours,'  as  my  darling  Mary 
Hann  said,  after^vards.  All  the  station  was  scrouging  round 
us  by  this  time — pawters  &  clarx  and  refreshniint  people  and 
all.  'What's  this  year  row  about  that  there  babby?'  at  last 
says  the  Inspector,  stepping  hup.  I  thought  my  wife  was 
going  to  jump  into  his  harms.     '  Have  you  got  him  ? '  says  she. 

"  '  Was  it  a  child  in  a  blue  cloak  ? '  says  he. 

"  '  And  blue  eyes  ! '  says  my  wife. 

*"Iput  a  label  on  him  and  sent  him  on  to  Bristol  j  he's 
there  by  this  time.  The  Guard  of  the  Mail  took  him  and  put 
him  into  a  letter-box,'  says  he  :  '  he  went  20  minutes  ago.  We 
found  him  on  the  broad  gauge  line,  and  sent  him  on  by  it,  in 
course,'  says  he.  '  And  it'll  be  a  caution  to  you,  young  woman, 
for  the  future,  to  label  your  children  along  with  the  rest  of 
your  luggage.' 

"  If  my  piguniary  means  had  been  such  as  once  they  was, 
you  may  emadgine  I'd  have  ad  a  speshle  train  and  been  hoff 
like  ;-'noak.  As  it  was,  we  was  obliged  to  wait  4  mortial  hours 
for  tiie  next  train  (4  ears  they  seemed  to  us),  and  then  away 
we  went. 

"  'My  boy !  my  little  boy  ! '  says  poor  choking  Mary  Hann, 
when  we  got  there.  *  A  parcel  in  a  blue  cloak  ? '  says  the  man. 
'  No  body  claimed  him  here,  and  so  we  sent  him  back  by  the 
mail.  An  Irish  nurse  here  gave  him  some  supper,  and  he's  at 
Paddington  by  this  time.     Yes,'  says  he,  looking  at  the  clock, 

*  he's  been  there  these  ten  minutes.' 

"  But  seeing  my  poor  wife's  distracted  histarricle  state,  this 
good-naterd  man  says,  '  I  think,  my  dear,  there's  a  way  to  ease 
your  mind.     We'll  know  in  five  minutes  how  he  is.' 


MR.  JEAMES  again:  I,y 

"  *  Sir,'  says  she,  '  don't  make  sport  of  me.' 

*"No,  my  dear,  we'll  telegraph  him.' 

"  And  he  began  hopparating  on  that  singlar  and  ingenus 
elecktricle  inwention,  which  aniliates  time,  and  carries  intella- 
gence  in  the  twinkling  of  a  peg-post. 

'"I'll  ask,'  says  he,  'for  child  marked  G.  W.  273.' 

"  Back  comes  the  telegraph  with  the  sign  '  All  right.' 

"  '  Ask  what  he's  doing,  sir,'  says  my  wife,  quite  amazed. 
Back  comes  the  answer  in  a  Jiffy — 

" '  C.  R.  Y.  I.  N.  G.' 

"  This  caused  all  the  bystanders  to  laugh  excep  my  pore 
Mary  Hann,  who  puU'd  a  very  sad  face. 

"  The  good-naterd  feller  presently  said,  '  he'd  have  another 
trile  ; '  and  what  d'ye  think  was  the  answer  ?  I'm  blest  if  it 
wasn't — 

"  '  P.  A.  P.' 

"  He  was  eating  pap  !  There's  for  you — there's  a  rogue 
for  you — there's  a  March  of  Intaleck  !  Mary  Hann  smiled  now 
for  the  fust  time.  He'll  sleep  now,'  says  she.  And  she  sat 
down  with  a  full  hart.        *  *  *  * 

"  If  hever  that  good-naterd  Shooperintendent  comes  to 
London,  he  need  never  ask  for  his  skore  at  the  '  Wheel  of 
Fortune  Otel,'  I  promise  you — where  me  and  my  wife  and 
James  Hangelo  now  is  ;  and  where  only  yesterday  a  gent  came 
in  and  drew  a  pictur  of  us  in  our  bar. 

"  And  if  they  go  on  breaking  gages  ;  and  if  the  child,  the 
most  precious  luggidge  of  the  Henglishman,  is  to  be  bundled 
about  this  year  way,  why  it  won't  be  for  want  of  warning,  both 
from  Professor  Harris,  the  Commission,  and  from 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Funch's  obeajent  servant, 

Jeames  Plush.* 


THE 
TREMENDOUS   ADVENTURES 

OF 

MAJOR    GAHAGAN. 


THE 

TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

OF 

MAJOR    GAHAGAN 


Chapter  I. 

"truth  is  strange,  stranger  than  fiction." 

I  THINK  it  but  right  that  in  making  my  appearance  before 
the  public  I  should  at  once  acquaint  them  with  my  titles  and 
name.  My  card,  as  I  leave  it  at  the  houses  of  the  nobility,  my 
friends,  is  as  follows  : — 


MAJOR 

GOLIAII  O'GRADY  GAHAGAN,  H.E.I.C.S., 

Commanding 

Battalion  of 
Irregular  Horse, 

AHMEDNUGGAR. 

Seeing,  I  say,  this  simple  visiting  ticket,  the  world  will  avoid 
any  of  those  awkward  mistakes  as  to  my  person,  which  have 
been  so  frequent  of  late.  There  has  been  no  end  to  the  blun- 
ders  regarding  this  humble  title  of  mine,  and  the  confusion 
thereby  created.  When  I  published  my  volume  of  poems,  for 
instance,  the  Mornitig  Post  newspaper  remarked  "  that  the 
Lyrics  of  the  Heart,  by  Miss  Gahagan,  may  be  ranked  among 
the   sweetest  fiowrets   of  the  present   spring  season."     The 

10 


142  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

Quarterly  Review,  commenting  upon  my  "  Observations  on  the 
Pons  Asinorum "  (4to.  London,  1836),  called  me  "  Doctor 
Gahagan,"  and  so  on.  It  was  time  to  put  an  end  to  these  mis- 
takes, and  I  have  taken  the  above  simple  remedy. 

I  was  urged  to  it  by  a  very  exalted  personage.  Dining  in 
August  last  at  the  palace  of  the  T — Ir-es  at  Paris,  the  lovely 
young  Duch-ss  of  Orl — ns  (who,  though  she  does  not  speak 
English,  understands  it  as  well  as  I  do),  said  to  me  in  the 
softest  Teutonic,  "  Lieber  Herr  Major,  haben  sie  den  Ahmed- 
nuggarischen-jager-battalion   gelassen  ?  "      "  Warum    denn  .?  " 

said  I,  quite  astonished  at  her  R — 1  H ss's  question.     The 

P — cess  then  spoke  of  some  trifle  from  my  pen,  which  was 
simply  signed  Goliah  Gahagan. 

There  was,  unluckily,  a  dead  silence  as  H.  R.  H.  put  this 
question. 

"  Comment  done  ?  "  said  H.  M.  Lo-is  Ph-l-ppe,  looking 
gravely  at  Count  Mole  ;    "  le  cher  Major  a  quitte   I'armee  ! 

Nicolas  done  sera  maitre  de  I'lnde  !  "     H.  M and  the  Pr. 

M-n-ster  pursued  their  conversation  in  a  low  tone,  and  left  me, 
as  may  be  imagined,  in  a  dreadful  state  of  confusion.  I  blushed 
and  stuttered,  and  murmured  out  a  few  incoherent  words  to  ex- 
plain— but  it  would  not  do — I  could  not  recover  my  equanimity 
during  the  course  of  the  dinner ;  and  while  endeavoring  to  help 
an  English  duke,  my  neighbor,  \.o poulet  a  f  Austerlitz,  fairly  sent 
seven  mushrooms  and  three  large  greasy  crotites  over  his  whisk- 
ers and  shirt-frill.     Another  laugh  at  my  expense.     "  Ah  !  M. 

le    Major,"   said   the    Q •  of   the  B-lg — ns,   archly,  "  vous 

n'aurez  jamais  votre  brevet  de  Colonel."     Her  M y's  joke 

will  be  better  understood  when  I  state  that  his  Grace  is  the 
brother  of  a  Minister. 

I  am  not  at  liberty  to  violate  the  sanctity  of  private  life,  by 
mentioning  the  names  of  the  parties  concerned  in  this  little 
anecdote.  I  only  wish  to  have  it  understood  that  I  am  a  gentle- 
man, and  live  at  least  in  ^^r<?;// society.      Verbuni  sat. 

But  to  be  serious.  I  am  obliged  always  to  write  the  name 
of  Goliah  in  full,  to  distinguish  me  from  my  brother,  Gregory 
Gahagan,  who  was  also  a  Major  (in  the  King's  service),  and 
whom  I  killed  in  a  duel,  as  the  public  most  likely  knows.  Poor 
Greg  !  a  very  trivial  dispute  was  the  cause  of  our  quarrel,  which 
never  would  have  originated  but  for  the  similarity  of  our  names. 
The  circumstance  was  this  :  I  had  been  lucky  enough  to  render 
the  Nawaub  of  Lucknow  some  trifling  service  (in  the  notorious 
affair  of  Choprasjee  Muckjee),  and  his  Highness  sent  down  a 
gold  toothpick-case  directed  to  Captain  G.  Gahagan,  which  I 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN:  I4J 

of  course  thought  was  for  me :  my  brother  madly  claimed  it ; 
we  fought,  and  the  consequence  was,  that  in  about  three  min- 
utes he  received  a  slasli  on  the  right  side  (cut  6),  which  effectu- 
ally did  his  business  : — he  was  a  good  swordsman  enough — I 
was  THE  BEST  in  the  universe.  The  most  ridiculous  part  of  the 
affair  is,  that  the  toothpick-case  was  his  after  all — he  had  left 
it  on  the  Nawaub's  table  at  tiffin.  I  can't  conceive  what  mad- 
ness promjDted  him  to  fight  about  such  a  paltry  bauble ;  he  had 
much  better  have  yielded  it  at  once,  when  he  saw  I  was  de- 
termined to  have  it.  From  this  slight  specimen  of  my  adven- 
tures, the  reader  will  perceive  that  my  life  has  been  one  of 
no  ordinary  interest  ;  and,  in  fact,  I  may  say  that  I  have  led  a 
more  remarkable  life  than  any  man  in  the  service — I  have  been 
at  more  pitched  battles,  led  more  forlorn  hopes,  had  more  suc- 
cess among  the  fair  sex,  drunk  harder,  read  more,  and  been  a 
handsomer  man  than  any  officer  now  serving  her  Majesty. 

When  I  first  went  to  India  in  1802,  I  was  a  raw  cornet  of 
seventeen,  with  blazing  red  hair,  six  feet  four  in  height,  athletic 
at  all  kinds  of  exercises,  owing  money  to  my  tailor  and  every- 
body else  who  would  trust  me,  possessing  an  Irish  brogue,  and 
my  full  pay  of  120/.  a  year.  I  need  not  say  that  with  all  these 
advantages  I  did  that  which  a  number  of  clever  fellows  have 
done  before  me — I  fell  in  love,  and  proposed  to  marry  im- 
mediately. 

But  how  to  overcome  the  difficulty  ? — It  is  true  that  I  loved 
Julia  Jowler — loved  her  to  madness  ;  but  her  father  intended 
her  for  a  Member  of  Council  at  least,  and  not  for  a  beggarly 
Irish  ensign.  It  was,  however,  my  fate  to  make  the  passage  to 
India  (on  board  of  the  "  Samuel  Snob"  East  Indiaman,  Cap- 
tain Duffy,)  with  this  lovely  creature,  and  my  misfortune  in- 
stantaneously to  fall  in  love  with  her.  We  were  not  out  of  the 
Channel  before  I  adored  her,  worshipped  the  deck  which  she 
trod  upon,  kissed  a  thousand  times  the  cuddy-chair  on  which 
she  used  to  sit.  The  same  madness  fell  on  every  man  in  the 
ship.  The  two  mates  fought  about  her  at  the  Cape  ;  the  sur- 
geon, a  sober,  pious  Scotchman,  from  disappointed  affection, 
took  so  dreadfully  to  drinking  as  to  threaten  spontaneous  com- 
bustion ;  and  old  Colonel  Lilywhite,  carrying  his  wife  and  seven 
daughters  to  Bengal,  swore  that  he  would  have  a  divorce  from 
Mrs.  L.,  and  made  an  attempt  at  suicide  ;  the  captain  himself 
told  me,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  he  hated  his  hitherto- 
adored  Mrs.  Duffy,  although  he  had  had  nineteen  children  by 
her. 

We  used  to  call  her  the  witch — there  was  magic  in  hei 


144 


THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 


beauty  and  in  her  voice.  I  was  spell-bound  when  I  looked  at 
her,  and  stark  staring  mad  when  she  looked  at  me  !  O  lustrous 
black  eyes  ! — O  glossy  night-black  ringlets  ! — O  lips  ! — O  dainty 
frocks  of  white  muslin  ! — O  tiny  kid  slippers  ? — though  old  and 
gouty,  Gahagan  sees  you  still  !  I  recollect,  off  Ascension,  she 
looked  at  me  in  her  particular  way  one  day  at  dinner,  just  as  I 
happened  to  be  blowing  on  a  piece  of  scalding  hot  green  fat. 
I  was  stupefied  at  once — I  thrust  the  entire  morsel  (about  half 
a  pound)  into  my  mouth.  I  made  no  attempt  to  swallow,  or  to 
masticate  it,  but  left  it  there  for  many  minutes,  burning,  burn- 
ing !  I  had  no  skin  to  my  palate  for  seven  weeks  after,  and 
lived  on  rice-water  during  the  rest  of  the  voyage.  The  anecdote 
is  trivial,  but  it  shows  the  power  of  Julia  Jowler  over  me. 

The  writers  of  marine  novels  have  so  exhausted  the  subject 
of  storms,  shipwrecks,  mutinies,  engagements,  sea-sickness,  and 
so  forth,  that  (although  I  have  experienced  each  of  these  in 
many  varieties)  I  think  it  quite  unnecessary  to  recount  such 
trifling  adventures ;  suffice  it  to  say,  that  during  our  five 
months'  tmjcf,  my  mad  passion  for  Julia  daily  increased  ;  so 
did  Colonel  Lilywhite's  ;  so  did  the  doctor's,  the  mate's — that 
of  most  part  of  the  passengers,  and  a  considerable  number  of 
the  crew.  For  myself,  I  swore — ensign  as  I  was — I  would  win 
her  for  my  wife  ;  I  vowed  that  I  would  make  her  glorious  with 
my  sword — that  as  soon  as  I  had  made  a  favorable  impres- 
sion on  my  commanding  officer  (which  I  did  not  doubt  to 
create),  I  would  lay  open  to  him  the  state  of  my  affections,  and 
demand  his  daughter's  hand.  With  such  sentimental  outpour- 
ings did  our  voyage  continue  and  conclude. 

We  landed  at  the  Sunderbunds  on  a  grilling  hot  day  in 
December,  1802,  and  then  for  the  moment  Julia  and  I  separated. 
She  was  carried  off  to  her  papa's  arms  in  a  palankeen,  sur- 
rounded by  at  least  forty  hookahbadars  ;  whilst  the  poor  ccr.iet, 
attended  but  by  two  dandies  and  a  solitary  beasty  (by  which 
unnatural  name  these  blackamoors  are  called),  made  his  way 
humbly  to  join  the  regiment  at  head-quarters. 

The  — th  Regiment  of  Bengal  Cavalry,  then  under  the 
command  of  Lieut. -Colonel  Julius  Jowler,  C.  B.,  was  known 
throughout  Asia  and  Europe  by  the  proud  title  of  the  Bundel- 
cund  Invincibles — so  great  was  its  character  for  bravery,  so 
remarkable  were  its  services  in  that  delightful  district  of  India. 
Major  Sir  George  Gutch  was  next  in  command,  and  Tom 
Thrupp,  as  kind  a  fellow  as  ever  ran  a  Mahratta  through  the 
body,  was  second  Major.  We  were  on  the  eve  of  that  remark- 
able war  which  was  speedily  to  spread  throughout  the  whole  of 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  145 

India,  to  call  forth  the  valor  of  a  Wellesley,  and  the  indomitable 
gallantry  of  a  Gahagan  ;  which  was  illustrated  by  our  victories 
at  Ahmednuggar  (where  I  was  the  first  over  the  barricade  at 
the  storming  of  the  Pettah)  ;  at  Arnaum,  where  I  slew  with  my 
own  sword  twenty-three  matchlock-men,  and  cut  a  dromedary 
in  two  ;  and  by  that  terrible  day  of  Assaye,  where  Wellesley 
would  have  been  beaten  but  for  me — me  alone  :  I  headed  nine- 
teen charges  of  cavalry,  took  (aided  by  only  four  men  of  my 
own  troop)  seventeen  field-pieces,  killing  the  scoundrelly 
French  artillerymen  ;  on  that  day  I  had  eleven  elephants  shot 
under  me,  and  carried  away  Scindiah's  nose-ring  with  a  pistol- 
ball.  Wellesley  is  a  Duke  and  a  Marshal,  I  but  a  simple  Major 
of  Irregulars.  Such  is  fortune  and  war  !  But  my  feelings  carry 
me  away  from  my  narrative,  which  had  better  proceed  with 
more  order. 

On  arriving,  I  sa)%  at  our  barracks  at  Dum  Dum,  I  for  the 
first  time  put  on  the  beautiful  uniform  of  the  Invincibles:  a 
light-blue  swallow-tailed  jacket  with  silver  lace  and  wings,  orna- 
mented with  about  3,000  sugar-loaf  buttons,  rhubarb-colored 
leather  inexpressibles  (tights),  and  red  morocco  boots  with 
silver  spurs  and  tassels,  set  off  to  admiration  the  handsome 
persons  of  the  officers  of  our  corps.  We  wore  powder  in  those 
clays  ;  and  a  regulation  pigtail  of  seventeen  inches,  a  brass 
helmet  surrounded  by  leopard-skin,  with  a  bearskin  top  and  a 
horsetail  feather,  gave  the  head  a  fierce  and  chivalrous  appear- 
ance, which  is  far  more  easily  imagined  than  described. 

Attired  in  this  magnificent  costume,  I  first  presented  myself 
before  Colonel  Jowler.  He  was  habited  in  a  manner  precisely 
similar,  but  not  being  more  than  five  feet  in  height,  and  weigh- 
ing at  least  fifteen  stone,  the  dress  he  wore  did  not  become  him 
quite  so  much  as  slimmer  and  taller  men.  Flanked  by  his 
tall  Majors,  Thrapp  and  Gutch,  he  looked  like  a  stumpy  skittle- 
ball  between  two  attenuated  skittles.  The  plump  little  Colonel 
received  me  with  vast  cordiality,  and  I  speedily  became  a  prime 
favorite  with  himself  and  the  other  officers  of  the  corps. 
Jowler  was  the  most  hospitable  of  men  ;  and  gratifying  my  ap- 
petite and  my  love  together,  I  continually  partook  of  his  din- 
ners, and  feasted  on  the  sweet  presence  of  Julia. 

I  can  see  now,  what  I  would  not  and  could  not  perceive  in 
those  early  days,  that  this  Miss  Jowler  —  on  whom  I  had 
lavished  my  first  and  warmest  love,  whom  I  had  endowed  with 
all  perfection  and  purity — was  no  better  than  a  little  impudent 
flirt,  who  played  with  my  feelings,  because  during  the  monotony 
of  a  sea-voyage  she  had  no  other  toy  to  play  with ;  and  who 


146  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

deserted  others  for  me,  and  me  for  others,  just  as  her  whim  01 
her  interest  might  guide  her.  She  had  not  been  three  weeks 
at  head-quarters  when  half  the  regiment  was  in  love  with  her. 
Each  and  all  of  the  candidates  had  some  favor  to  boast  of,  or 
some  encouraging  hopes  on  which  to  build.  It  was  the  scene 
of  the  "  Samuel  Snob  "  over  again,  only  heightened  in  interest 
by  a  number  of  duels.  The  following  list  will  give  the  reader 
a  notion  of  some  of  them  : — 

I.    Cornet  Galiagan Ensign  Hicks,  of  the  Sappers  and  Miners. 

Hicks  received  a  ball  in  his  jaw,  and  was 
half  choked  by  a  quantity  of  carroty 
whisker  forced  down  his  throat  with  th« 
ball. 

3.  _  Capt  MacgilUcuddy,  B,  N.  I Comet  Gahagan.     I  was  run  through  the 

body,  but  the  sword  passed  between  the 
ribs,  and  injured  me  very  slightly. 

3.  Capt.  Macgillicuddy,  B.  N.I Mr.  Mulligatawny,  B.  C.  S.,  Deputy-As- 
sistant Vice  Sub-Controller  of  the  Bog- 
gley  wollah  Indigo  grounds,  Kamgolly 
branch. 

Macgillicuddy  should  have  stuck  to  sword's-play,  and  he  might 
have  come  off  his  second  duel  as  well  as  in  his  first ;  as  it  was, 
the  civilian  placed  a  ball  and  a  part  of  Mac's  gold  repeater  in 
his  stomach.  A  remarkable  circumstance  attended  this  shot, 
an  account  of  which  I  sent  home  to  the  "  Philosophical  Trans- 
actions :  "  the  surgeon  had  extracted  the  ball,  and  was  going 
off,  thinking  that  all  was  well,  when  the  gold  repeater  struck 
thirteen  in  poor  Macgillicuddy's  abdomen.  I  suppose  that  the 
works  must  have  been  disarranged  in  some  way  by  the  bullet, 
for  the  repeater  was  one  of  Barraud's,  never  known  to  fail  be- 
fore, and  the  circumstance  occurred  at  seven  o'clock.* 

I  could  continue,  almost  ad  infinitum,  an  account  of  the  wars 
which  this  Helen  occasioned,  but  the  above  three  specimens 
will,  I  should  think,  satisfy  the  peaceful  reader.  I  delight  not  in 
scenes  of  blood,  heaven  knows,  but  I  was  compelled  in  the 
course  of  a  few  weeks,  and  for  the  sake  of  this  one  woman,  to 
fight  nine  duels  myself,  and  I  know  that  four  times  as  many 
more  took  place  concerning  her. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  Jowler's  wife  was  a  half-caste  woman, 
who  had  been  born  and  bred  entirely  in  India,  and  whom  the 

*  So  admirable  are  the  performances  of  these  watches,  which  will  stand  in  any  climate, 
that  I  repeatedly  heard  poor  Macgillicuddy  relate  the  following  fact.  The  hours,  as  it  is 
known,  count  in  Italy  from  one  to  twenty-four:  the  day  H [etc  landed  at  Naples  his  re* 
^catcr  runi;  the  Italian  hours,/rom  one  to  twenty •J'our  ;  as  soon  as  he  Crossed  tlie  Alp« 
It  only  sounded  as  usual. — G.  O'G.  G. 


OF  MAJOR  G  A  HAG  AN.  1 47 

Colonel  had  married  from  the  house  of  her  mother,  a  native. 
There  were  some  singular  rumors  abroad  regarding  this  lady's 
history  :  it  was  reported  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  native 
Rajah,  and  had  been  carried  off  by  a  poor  English  subaltern 
in  Lord  Clive's  time.  The  young  man  was  killed  very  soon 
after,  and  left  his  child  with  its  mother.  The  black  Prince 
forgave  his  daughter  and  bequeathed  to  her  a  handsome  sum 
of  money.  I  suppose  that  it  was  on  this  account  that  Jowler 
married  Mrs.  J.,  a  creature  who  had  not,  I  do  believe,  a  Chris- 
tian name,  or  a  single  Christian  quality  :  she  was  a  hideous, 
bloated,  yellow  creature,  with  a  beard,  black  teeth,  and  red 
eyes  :  she  was  fat,  lying,  ugly,  and  stingy — she  hated  and  was 
hated  by  all  the  world,  and  by  her  jolly  husband  as  devoutly 
as  by  any  other.  She  did  not  pass  a  month  in  the  year  with 
him,  but  spent  most  of  her  time  with  her  native  friends.  I 
wonder  how  she  could  have  given  birth  to  so  lovely  a  creature 
as  her  daughter.  This  woman  was  of  course  with  the  Colonel 
when  Julia  arrived,  and  the  spice  of  the  devil  in  her  daughter's 
composition  was  most  carefully  nourished  and  fed  by  her.  If 
Julia  had  been  a  flirt  before,  she  was  a  downright  jilt  now  ;  she 
set  the  whole  cantonment  by  the  ears  ;  she  made  wives  jealous 
and  husbands  miserable  ;  she  caused  all  those  duels  of  which 
I  have  discoursed  already,  and  yet  such  was  the  fascination  of 
THE  WITCH  that  I  still  thought  her  an  angel.  I  made  court  to 
the  nasty  mother  in  order  to  be  near  the  daughter ;  and  I 
listened  untiringly  to  Jowler's  interminable  dull  stories,  because 
I  was  occupied  all  the  time  in  watching  the  graceful  movements 
of  Miss  Julia. 

But  the  trumpet  of  war  was  soon  ringing  in  our  ears  ;  and  on 
the  battle-field  Gahagan  is  a  man  !  The  Bundelcund  Invinci- 
bles  received  orders  to  march,  and  Jowler,  Hector  like,  donned 
his  helmet  and  prepared  to  part  from  his  Andromache.  And 
now  arose  his  perplexity  :  what  must  be  done  with  his  daughter, 
his  Julia  ?  He  knew  his  wife's  peculiarities  of  living,  and  did 
not  much  care  to  trust  his  daughter  to  her  keeping  ;  but  in 
vain  he  tried  to  find  her  an  asylum  among  the  respectable 
ladies  of  his  regiment.  Lady  Gutch  offered  to  receive  her,  but 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  Mrs.  Jowler  ;  the  surgeon's 
wife,  Mrs.  Sawbone,  would  have  neither  mother  nor  daughter  ; 
there  was  no  help  for  it,  Julia  and  her  mother  must  have  a 
house  together,  and  Jowler  knew  that  his  wife  would  fill  it  with 
her  odious  blackamoor  friends. 

I  could  not,  however,  go  forth  satisfied  to  the  campaign  until 
I  learned  from  Julia  my  fate.     I  watched  twenty  opportunities 


148  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

to  see  her  alone,  and  wandered  about  the  Colonel's  bungalow 
as  an  informer  does  about  a  pubUg  house,  marking  the  in- 
comings and  the  outgoings  of  the  family,  and  longing  to  seize 
the  moment  when  Miss  Jowler,  unbiassed  by  her  mother  or  her 
papa,  might  listen,  perhaps,  to  my  eloquence,  and  melt  at  the 
tale  of  my  love. 

But  it  would  not  do — old  Jowler  seemed  to  have  taken  all 
of  a  sudden  to  such  a  fit  of  domesticity,  that  there  was  no 
finding  him  out  of  doors,  and  his  rhubarb-colored  wife  (I 
believe  that  her  skin  gave  the  first  idea  of  our  regimental 
breeches),  who  before  had  been  gadding  ceaselessly  abroad, 
and  poking  her  broad  nose  into  every  menage  in  the  canton- 
ment, stopped  faithfully  at  home  with  her  spouse.  My  only 
chance  was  to  beard  the  old  couple  in  their  den,  and  ask  them 
at  once  for  their  cub. 

So  I  called  one  day  at  titifin  : — old  Jowler  was  always  happy 
to  have  my  company  at  this  meal  ;  it  amused  him,  he  said,  to 
see  me  drink  Hodgson's  pale  ale  (I  drank  two  hundred  and 
thirty-four  dozen  the  first  year  I  was  in  Bengal) — and  it  was 
no  small  piece  of  fun,  certainly,  to  see  old  Mrs.  Jowler  attack 
the  currie-bhaut  \ — she  was  exactly  the  color  of  it,  as  I  have  had 
already  the  honor  to  remark,  and  she  swallowed  the  mixture 
with  a  gusto  which  was  never  equalled,  except  by  my  poor 
friend  Dando  d propos  d'hiiitres.  She  consumed  the  first  three 
platefuls  with  a  fork  and  spoon,  like  a  Christian  ;  but  as  slie 
warmed  to  her  work,  the  old  hag  would  throw  away  her  silver 
implements,  and  dragging  the  dishes  towards  her,  go  to  work 
with  her  hands,  flip  the  rice  into  her  mouth  with  her  fingers, 
and  stow  away  a  quantity  of  eatables  sufficient  for  a  sepoy 
company.  But  why  do  I  diverge  from  the  main  point  of  my 
story  "i 

Julia,  then,  Jowler,  and  Mrs.  J.,  were  at  luncheon  :  the  dear 
girl  was  in  the  act  to  sabler  a  glass  of  Hodgson  as  I  entered. 
"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Gagin  ?  "  said  the  old  hag,  leeringly. 
"  Eat  a  bit  of  currie-bhaut," — and  she  thrust  the  dish  towards 
me,  securing  a  heap  as  it  passed.  "  What !  Gagy  my  boy,  how 
do,  how  do  ?  "  said  the  fat  Colonel.  "What !  run  through  the 
body  ? — got  well  again — have  some  Hodgson — run  through 
your  body  too  !  " — and  at  this,  I  may  say,  coarse  joke  (alluding 
to  the  fact  in  these  hot  climates  the  ale  oozes  out  as  it  were 
from  the  pores  of  the  skin)  old  Jowler  laughed  :  a  host  of 
swarthy  chopdars,  kitmatgars,  sices,  consomahs,  and  bobbychies 
laughed  too,  as  they  provided  me,  unasked,  with  the  grateful 
fluid.  Swallowing  six  tumblers  of  it,  I  paused  nervously  for  a 
moment,  and  then  said — 


OF  MAyOR  CANAGAAT.  149 

"Bobbachy,  consomah,  ballybaloo  hoga." 

The  black  ruffians  took  the  hint,  and  retired. 

"Colonel  and  Mrs.  Jowler,"  said  I  solemnly,  "we  are 
alone  ;  and  you.  Miss  Jowler,  you  are  alone  too ;  that  is — I 
mean — I  take  this  opportunity  to — (another  glass  of  ale,  if  you 
please,) — to  express,  once  for  all,  before  departing  on  a  dan- 
gerous campaign  " — (Julia  turned  pale) — "  before  entering,  I 
say,  upon  a  war  which  may  stretch  in  the  dust  my  high-raised 
hopes  and  me,  to  express  my  hopes  while  life  still  remains  to 
me,  and  to  declare  in  the  face  of  heaven,  earth,  and  Colonel 
Jowler,  that  I  love  you,  Julia  !  "  The  Colonel,  astonished,  let 
fall  a  steel  fork,  which  stuck  quivering  for  some  minutes  in  the 
calf  of  my  leg;  but  I  heeded  not  the  paltry  interruption. 
"Yes,  by  yon  bright  heaven,''  continued  I,  "I  love  you,  Julia  ! 
I  respect  my  commander,  I  esteem  your  excellent  and  beaute- 
ous mother  ;  tell  me,  before  I  leave  you,  if  I  may  hope  for  a 
return  of  my  affection.  Say  that  you  love  me,  and  1  will  do 
such  deeds  in  this  coming  war,  as  shall  make  you  proud  of  the 
name  of  your  Gahagan." 

The  old  woman,  as  I  delivered  these  touching  words,  stared, 
snapped  and  ground  her  teeth,  like  an  enraged  monkey.  Julia 
was  now  red,  now  white  ;  the  Colonel  stretched  forward,  took 
the  fork  out  of  the  calf  of  my  leg,  wiped  it,  and  then  seized  a 
bundle  of  letters  which  I  had  remarked  by  his  side. 

"  A  cornet !  "  said  he,  in  a  voice  choking  with  emotion ;  "  a 
pitiful,  beggarly  Irish  cornet  aspire  to  the  hand  of  Julia  Jowler  ! 
Gag — Gahagan,  are  you  mad,  or  laughing  at  us  ?  Look  at 
these  letters,  young  man — at  these  letters,  I  say — one  hundred 
and  twenty-four  epistles  from  every  part  of  India  (not  including 
one  from  the  Governor-General,  and  six  from  his  brother,  Col- 
onel Wellesley,) — one  hundred  and  twenty-four  proposals  for 
the  hand  of  Miss  Jowler!  Cornet  Gahagan,"  he  continued, 
"  I  wish  to  think  well  of  you  :  you  are  the  bravest,  the  most 
modest,  and,  perhaps,  the  handsomest  man  in  our  corps  ;  but 
you  have  not  got  a  single  rupee.  You  ask  me  for  Julia,  and 
you  do  not  possess  even  an  anna ! " — (Here  the  old  rogue 
grinned,  as  if  he  had  made  a  capital  pun.) — "No,  no,"  said  he, 
waxing  good-natured  ;  "  Gagy  my  boy,  it  is  nonsense  !  Julia 
love,  retire  with  your  mamma  ;  this  silly  young  gentleman  will 
remain  and  smoke  a  pipe  with  me." 

I  took  one ;  it  was  the  bitterest  chillum  I  ever  smoked  in  my 

life. 

♦  *  *  *  # 

I  am  not  going  to  give  here  an  account  of  my  military  sef 


ISO 


THE  TREMEN-DOUS  ADVENTURES 


vices  ;  they  will  appear  in  my  great  national  autobiography,  in 
forty  volumes,  which  I  am  now  preparing  for  the  press.  I  was 
with  my  regiment  in  all  Wellesley's  brilliant  campaigns ;  then 
taking  dawk,  I  travelled  across  the  country  north-eastward,  and 
had  the  honor  of  fighting  by  the  side  of  Lord  Lake  at  Laswa- 
ree,  Deeg,  Furrukabad,  Futtyghur,  and  BhurtjDore  :  but  I  will 
not  boast  of  my  actions — the  military  man  knows  them,  MY 
SOVEREIGN  appreciates  them.  If  asked  \vho  was  the  bravest 
man  of  the  Indian  army,  there  is  not  an  officer  belonging  to  it 
who  would  not  cry  at  once,  Gahagan.  The  fact  is,  I  was  des- 
perate :  I  cared  not  for  life,  deprived  of  Julia  Jowler. 

With  Julia's  stony  looks  ever  before  my  eyes,  her  father's 
stern  refusal  in  my  ears,  I  did  not  care,  at  the  close  of  the  cam- 
paign, again  to  seek  her  company  or  press  my  suit.  We  were 
eighteen  months  on  service,  marching  and  countermarching, 
and  lighting  almost  every  other  day  ;  to  the  world  I  did  not 
seem  altered  ;  but  the  world  only  saw  the  face,  and  not  the 
seared  and  blighted  heart  within  me.  My  valor,  always  des- 
perate, now  reached  to  a  pitch  of  cruelty ;  I  tortured  my  grooms 
and  grass-cutters  for  the  most  trifling  offence  or  error, — I  never 
in  afction  spared  a  man, — I  sheared  off  three  hundred  and 
nine  heads  in  the  course  of  that  single  campaign. 

Some  influence,  equally  melai^choly,  seemed  to  have  fallen 
upon  poor  old  Jowler.  About  six  months  after  we  had  left 
Dum  Dum,  he  received  a  parcel  of  letters  from  Benares 
(whither  his  wife  had  retired  with  her  daughter),  and  so  deeply 
did  they  seem  to  weigh  upon  his  spirits,  that  he  ordered  eleven 
men  of  his  regiment  to  be  flogged  within  two  days  ;  but  it  was 
against  the  blacks  that  he  chiefly  turned  his  wrath.  Our  fel- 
lows, in  the  heat  and  hurry  of  the  campaign,  were  in  the  habit 
of  dealing  rather  roughly  with  their  prisoners,  to  extract  treas- 
ure from  them  :  they  used  to  pull  their  nails  out  by  the  root, 
to  boil  them  in  kedgeree  pots,  to  flog  them  and  dress  their 
wounds  with  cayenne  pepper,  and  so  on.  Jowler,  when  he 
heard  of  these  proceedings,  which  before  had  always  justly 
exasperated  him  (he  was  a  humane  and  kind  little  man),  used 
now  to  smile  fiercely  and  say,  "  D —  the  black  scoundrels  I 
Serve  them  right,  serve  them  right !  " 

One  day,  about  a  couple  of  miles  in  advance  of  the  column, 
I  had  been  on  a  foraging  party  with  a  few  dragoons,  and  was 
returning  peaceably  to  camp,  when  of  a  sudden  a  troop  of 
Mahrattas  burst  on  us  from  a  neighboring  mango-tope,  in  which 
they  had  been  hidden  :  in  an  instant  three  of  my  men's  sad- 
dles were  empty  and  I  was  left  with  but  seven  more  to  make 


OF  MAJOR  GAHA  CAN.  1 5  j 

head  against  at  least  thirty  of  tliese  vagabond  black  horsemen. 
I  never  saw  in  my  life  a  nobler  figure  than  the  leader  of  the 
troop — mounted  on  a  splendid  black  Arab  :  he  was  as  tall, 
very  nearly,  as  myself  ;  he  wore  a  steel  cap  and  a  shirt  of  mail, 
and  carried  a  beautiful  French  carbine,  which  had  already  done 
execution  upon  two  of  my  men.  I  saw  that  our  only  chance 
of  safety  lay  in  the  destruction  of  this  man.  I  shouted  to  him 
in  a  voice  of  thunder  (in  the  Hindustanee  tongue  of  course), 
"  Stop,  dog,  if  you  dare,  and  encounter  a  man  !  " 

In  reply  his  lance  came  whirling  in  the  air  over  my  head, 
and  mortally  transfixed  poor  Foggarty  of  ours,  who  was  be- 
hind me.  Grinding  my  teeth  and  swearing  horribly,  I  drew 
that  scimitar  which  never  yet  failed  its  blow,*  and  rushed  at 
the  Indian.  He  came  down  at  full  gallop,  his  own  sword  mak- 
ing ten  thousand  gleaming  circles  in  the  air,  shrieking  his  cry 
of  battle. 

The  contest  did  not  last  an  instant.  With  my  first  blow  I 
cut  off  his  sword-arm  at  the  wrist ;  my  second  I  levelled  at 
his  head.  I  said  that  he  wore  a  steel  cap,  with  a  gilt  iron 
spike  of  six  inches,  and  a  hood  of  chain  mail.  I  rose  in  my 
stirrups  and  delivered  '■^  St.  George;'"  my  sword  caught  the 
spike  exactly  on  the  point,  split  it  sheer  in  two,  cut  crashing 
through  the  steel  cap  and  hood,  and  was  only  stopped  by  a 
ruby  which  he  wore  in  his  back-plate.  His  head,  cut  clean  in 
two  between  the  eyebrows  and  nostrils,  even  between  the  twa 
front  teeth,  fell  one  side  on  each  shoulder,  and  he  galloped 
on  till  his  horse  was  stopped  by  my  men,  who  were  not  a  little 
amused  at  the  feat. 

As  I  had  expected,  the  remaining  ruffians  fled  on  seeing 
their  leader's  fate.  I  took  home  his  helmet  by  way  of  curios- 
itv,  and  we  made  a  single  prisoner,  who  was  instantly  carried 
before  old  Jowler. 

We  asked  the  prisoner  the  name  of  the  leader  of  the  troop  ; 
he  said  it  was  Chowder  Loll. 

"  Chowder  Loll !  "  shrieked  Colonel  Jowler.  "  O  fate  !  thy 
hand  is  here  !  "  He  rushed  wildly  into  his  tent — the  next  day 
applied  for  leave  of  absence.  Gutch  took  the  command  of  the 
regiment,  and  I  saw  him  no  more  for  some  time. 

^  ^  ^  ^  TV  ^ 

As  I  had  distinguished  myself  not  a  little  during  the  war, 
General  Lake  sent  me  up  with  despatches  to  Calcutta,  where 
Lord   Wellesley   received  me   with   the    greatest   distinction. 

*  In  my  affair  with  Macgillicuddy,  I  was  fool   enough  to  go  out  with  small-swords  :-* 
miserable  weapons,  only  fit  for  tailors. — G.  O'G.  G. 


152 


THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 


Fancy  my  surprise,  on  going  to  a  ball  at  Government  House, 
to  meet  my  old  friend  Jowler  ;  my  trembling,  blushing,  thrilling 
delight,  when  I  saw  Julia  by  his  side  ! 

Jowler  seemed  to  blush  too  when  he  beheld  me.  I  thought 
of  my  former  passages  with  his  daughter.  "  Gagy  my  boy," 
says  he,  shaking  hands,  "glad  to  see  you.  Old  friend,  Julia — 
come  to  tiffin — Hodgson's  pale — brave  fellow  Gagy."  Julia 
did  not  speak,  but  she  turned  ashy  pale,  and  fixed  upon  me  her 
awful  eyes  !  I  fainted  almost,  and  uttered  some  incoherent 
words.  Julia  took  my  hand,  gazed  at  me  still,  and  said, 
*'  Come  !  "     Need  I  say  I  went  ? 

I  will  not  go  over  the  pale  ale  and  currie-bhaut  again  ;  but 

this  I  know,  that  in  half  an  hour  I  was  as  much  in  love  as  I 

ever  had  been  :  and  that  in  three  weeks  I — yes,  I — was  the 

accepted  lover  of  Julia  !  I  did  not  pause  to  ask  where  were  the 

one  hundred   and   twenty-four  offers  ?  why  I,  refused   before, 

should  be  accepted  now  ?     I  only  felt  that  I  loved  her,  and  was 

happy ! 

***** 

One  night,  one  memorable  night,  I  could  not  sleep,  and, 
with  a  lover's  pardonable  passion,  wandered  solitary  through 
the  city  of  palaces  until  I  came  to  the  house  which  contained 
my  Julia.  I  peeped  into  the  compound — all  was  still ;  I  looked 
into  the  verandah — all  was  dark,  except  a  light — yes,  one  light 
— and  it  was  in  Julia's  chamber  !  My  heart  throbbed  almost 
to  stifling.  I  would — I  would  advance,  if  but  to  gaze  upon 
her  for  a  moment,  and  to  bless  her  as  she  slept.  I  did  look,  I 
did  advance  ;  and,  O  heaven !  I  saw  a  lamp  burning,  Mrs. 
Jow.  in  a  night-dress,  with  a  very  dark  baby  '\w  her  arms,  and 
Julia  looking  tenderly  at  an  ayah,  who  was  nursing  another. 

"  Oh,  mamma,"  said  Julia,  "  what  would  that  fool  Gahagan 
say  if  he  knew  all  ?  " 

"  He  docs  knozv  all!  shouted  I,  springing  forward,  and  tear- 
ing down  the  tatties  from  the  window.  Mrs.  Jow.  ran  shrieking 
out  of  the  room,  Julia  fainted,  the  cursed  black  children  squalled, 
and  their  d — d  nurse  fell  on  her  knees,  gabbling  some  infernal 
jargon  of  Hindustanee.  Old  Jowler  at  this  juncture  entered 
with  a  candle  and  a  drawn  sword. 

"  Liar  !  scoundrel  !  deceiver  !  "  shouted  I.  "  Turn,  ruffian, 
and  defend  yourself !  "  But  old  Jowler,  when  he  saw  me, 
only  whistled,  looked  at  his  lifeless  daughter,  and  slowly  left 
the  room. 

Why  continue  the  tale  1  I  need  not  now  account  for  Jow- 
ler's  gloom  on  receiving  his  letters  from  Benares — for  his  e:e 


OF  MAJOR  G  A  HAG  an:  153 

clamation  upon  the  death  of  the  Indian  chief — for  his  desire  to 
marry  his  daughter;  the  woman  I  was  wooing  was  no  longei 
Miss  Julia  Jowler,  she  was  Mrs.  Chowder  Loll ! 


Chapter  II, 

ALLYGHUR  AND   LASWAREE. 


I  SAT  down  to  write  gravely  and  sadly,  for  (since  the  appear- 
ance of  some  of  my  adventures  in  a  monthly  magazine)  un- 
principled men  have  endeavored  to  rob  me  of  the  only  good 
I  possess,  to  question  the  statements  that  I  make,  and,  them- 
selves without  a  spark  of  honor  or  good  feeling,  to  steal  from 
me  that  which  is  my  sole  wealth — my  character  as  a  teller  of 

THE  TRUTH. 

The  reader  will  understand  that  it  is  to  the  illiberal  stric- 
tures of  a  profligate  press  I  now  allude  ;  among  the  London 
journalists,  none  (luckily  for  themselves)  have  dared  to  ques- 
tion the  veracity  of  my  statements  :  they  know  me,  and  they 
know  that  I  am  m  London.  If  I  can  use  the  pen,  I  can  also 
wield  a  more  manly  and  terrible  weapon,  and  would  answer 
their  contradictions  with  my  sword  !  No  gold  or  gems  adorn 
the  hilt  of  that  war-worn  scimitar  ;  but  there  is  blood  upon  the 
blade — the  blood  of  the  enemies  of  my  country,  and  the  malign- 
ers  of  my  honest  fame.  There  are  others,  however — the  dis- 
grace of  a  disgraceful  trade — who,  borrowing  from  distance  a 
despicable  courage,  have  ventured  to  assail  me.  The  infamous 
editors  of  the  Kelso  Champion,  the  Bungay  Beacon,  the  llpperary 
Argus,  and  the  Stoke  Pogis  Sejitincl,  and  other  dastardly  organs 
of  the  provincial  press,  have,  although  differing  in  politics, 
agreed  upon  this  one  point,  and,  with  a  scoundrelly  unanimity, 
vented  a  flood  of  abuse  upon  the  revelations  made  by  me. 

They  say  that  I  have  assailed  private  characters,  and  wil- 
fully perverted  history  to  blacken  the  reputation  of  public  men. 
I  ask,  was  any  one  of  these  men  in  Bengal  in  the  year  1803  .'' 
Was  any  single  conductor  of  any  one  of  these  paltry  prints  ever 
in  Bundelcund  or  the  Rohilla  country  ?  Does  this  exquisite 
Tipperary  scribe  know  the  difference  between  Hurrygurrybang 
and  Burrumtollah  ?  Not  he  !  and  because,  forsooth,  in  those 
strange  and  distant  lands  strange  circumstances  have  taken 
place,  it  is  insinuated  that  the  relater  is  a  liar :  nay,  that  the 
very  places  themselves  have  no  existence  but  in  my  imagina- 


'54 


THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 


tion.  Fools ! — but  I  will  not  waste  my  anger  upon  them,  and 
proceed  to  recount  some  other  portions  of  my  personal  his- 
tory. 

It  is,  I  presume,  a  fact  which  even  these  scribbling  assassins 
will  not  venture  to  deny,  that  before  the  commencement  of  the 
campaign  against  Scindiah,  the  English  General  formed  a  camp 
at  Kanouge  on  the  Jumna,  where  he  exercised  that  brilliant 
little  army  which  was  speedily  to  perform  such  wonders  in  the 
Dooab.  It  will  be  as  well  to  give  a  slight  account  of  the 
causes  of  a  war  which  was  speedily  to  rage  through  some  of  the 
fairest  portions  of  the  Indian  continent. 

Shah  Allum,  the  son  of  Shah  Lollum,  the  descendant  by 
the  female  line  of  Nadir  Shah  (that  celebrated  Toorkomaun 
adventurer,  who  had  wellnigh  hurled  Bajazet  and  Selim  the 
Second  from  the  throne  of  Bagdad) — Shah  Allum,  I  say,  al- 
though nominally  the  Emperor  of  Delhi,  was  in  reality  the  slave 
of  the  various  warlike  chieftains  who  lorded  it  by  turns  over 
the  country  and  the  sovereign,  until  conquered  and  slain  by 
some  more  successful  rebel.  Chowder  Loll  Masolgee,  Zubber- 
dust  Khan,  Dowsunt  Row  Scindiah,  and  the  celebrated  Bob- 
bachy  Jung  Bahawder,  had  held  for  a  time  complete  mastery  in 
Delhi.  The  second  of  these,  a  ruthless  Afghan  soldier,  had 
abruptly  entered  the  capital ;  nor  was  he  ejected  from  it  until 
he  had  seized  upon  the  principal  jewels,  and  likewise  put  out 
the  eyes  of  the  last  of  the  unfortunate  family  of  Afrasi^ib. 
Scindiah  came  to  the  rescue  of  the  sightless  Shah  Allum,  and 
though  he  destroyed  his  oppressor,  only  increased  his  slavery ; 
holding  him  in  as  painful  a  bondage  as  he  had  suffered  under 
the  tyrannous  Afghan. 

As  long  as  these  heroes  were  battling  among  themselves,  or 
as  long  rather  as  it  appeared  that  they  had  any  strength  to  fight 
a  battle,  the  British  Government,  ever  anxious  to  see  its  ene- 
mies by  the  ears,  by  no  means  interfered  in  the  contest.  But 
the  French  Revolution  broke  out,  and  a  host  of  starving  sans- 
culottes appeared  among  the  various  Indian  States,  seeking  for 
military  service,  and  inflaming  the  minds  of  the  various  native 
princes  against  the  British  East  India  Company.  A  number  of 
these  entered  into  Sclndiah's  ranks :  one  of  them.  Perron,  was 
commander  of  his  army  ;  and  though  that  chief  was  as  yet 
quite  engaged  in  his  hereditary  quarrel  with  Jeswunt  Row  Hol- 
kar,  and  never  thought  of  an  invasion  of  the  British  territory, 
the  Company  all  of  a  sudden  discovered  that  Shah  Allum,  his 
sovereign,  was  shamefully  ill-used,  and  determined  to  re-estab- 
lish the  ancient  splendor  of  his  throne. 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN:  l-j 

Of  course  it  was  sheer  benevolence  for  poor  Shah  Allum 
that  prompted  our  governors  to  take  these  kindly  measures  in 
his  favor.  I  don't  know  how  it  happened  that,  at  the  end  of 
the  war,  the  poor  Shah  was  not  a  whit  better  off  than  at  the 
beginning ;  and  that  though  Holkar  was  beaten,  and  Scindiah 
annihilated,  Shah  Allum  was  much  such  a  puppet  as  before. 
Somehow,  in  the  hurry  and  confusion  of  this  struggle,  the  oyster 
remained  with  the  British  Government,  who  had  so  kindly  of- 
fered to  dress  it  for  the  Emperor,  while  his  Majesty  was  obliged 
to  be  contented  with  the  shell. 

The  force  encamped  at  Kanouge  bore  the  title  of  the  Grand 
Army  of  the  Ganges  and  the  Jumna ;  it  consisted  of  eleven 
regiments  of  cavalry  and  twelve  battalions  of  infantry,  and  was 
commanded  by  General  Lake  in  person. 

Well,  on  the  ist  of  September  we  stormed  Perron's  camp 
at  All^^ghur ;  on  the  fourth  we  took  that  fortress  by  assault ; 
and  as  my  name  was  mentioned  in  general  orders,  I  may  as 
well  quote  the  Commander-in-Chief's  words  regarding  me — they 
will  spare  me  the  trouble  of  composing  my  own  eulogium  : — 

"  The  Commander-in-Chief  is  proud  thus  publicly  to  de- 
clare his  high  sense  of  the  gallantry  of  Lieutenant  Gahagan,  of 
the cavalry.  In  the  storming  of  the  fortress,  although  un- 
provided with  a  single  ladder,  and  accompanied  but  by  a  few 
brave  men,  Lieutenant  Gahagan  succeeded  in  escalading  the 
inner  and  fourteenth  wall  of  the  place.  Fourteen  ditches  lined 
with  sword-blades  and  poisoned  chevaux-de-frise,  fourteen  walls 
bristling  with  innumerable  artillery  and  as  smooth  as  looking- 
glasses,  were  in  turn  triumphantly  passed  by  that  enterprising 
officer.  His  course  was  to  be  traced  by  the  heaps  of  slaugh- 
tered enemies  lying  thick  upon  the  platforms  ;  and  alas  !  by  the 
corpses  of  most  of  the  gallant  men  who  followed  him  ! — when 
at  length  he  effected  his  lodgment,  and  the  dastardly  enemy, 
who  dared  not  to  confront  him  with  arms,  let  loose  upon  him 
the  tigers  and  lions  of  Scindiah's  menagerie.  This  meritorious 
officer  destroyed,  with  his  own  hand,  four  of  the  largest  and 
most  ferocious  animals,  and  the  rest,  awed  by  the  indomitable 
majesty  of  British  valor,  shrank  back  to  their  dens.  Thomas 
Higgory,  a  private,  and  Runty  Goss,  havildar,  were  the  only 
two  vvJio  remained  out  of  the  nine  hundred  who  followed  Lieu- 
tenant Gahagan.     Honor  to  them  !     Honor  and  tears  for  the 

brave  men  who  perished  on  that  awful  day  ! '' 

***** 

I  have  copied  this,  word  for  word,  from  the  Bengal  Hurkaru 
of  September  24,  1803  :  and  anybody  who  has  the  slightest 
doubt  as  to  the  statement,  may  refer  to  the  paper  itself. 


156  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

And  here  I  must  pause  to  give  thanks  to  Fortune,  which  so 
niarveliously  preserved  me,  Sergeant-Major  Higgory,  and  Runty 
Goss.  Were  I  to  say  that  any  valor  of  ours  had  carried  us  un- 
hurt through  this  tremendous  combat,  the  reader  would  laugh 
me  to  scorn.  No  :  though  my  narrative  is  extraordinary,  it  is 
nevertheless  authentic  ;  and  never,  never  would  I  sacrifice  truth 
for  the  mere  sake  of  effect.  The  fact  is  this  : — the  citadel  of 
Allyghur  is  situated  upon  a  rock,  about  a  thousand  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea,  and  is  surrounded  by  fourteen  walls,  as  his 
Excellency  was  good  enough  to  remark  in  his  despatch.  A 
man  who  would  mount  these  without  scaling-ladders,  is  an  ass  ; 
he  who  would  say  he  mounted  them  without  such  assistance,  is 
a  liar  and  a  knave.  We  had  scaling-ladders  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  assault,  although  it  was  quite  impossible  to  carry 
them  beyond  the  first  line  of  batteries.  Mounted  on  them, 
however,  as  our  troops  were  falling  thick  about  me,  I  saw  that 
we  must  ignominiously  retreat,  unless  some  other  help  could  be 
found  for  our  brave  fellows  to  escalade  the  next  wall.  It  was 
about  seventy  feet  high.  I  instantly  turned  the  guns  of  wall 
A  on  wall  B,  and  peppered  the  latter  so  as  to  make,  not  a  breach, 
but  a  scaling  place  ;  the  men  mounting  in  the  holes  made  by 
the  shot.  By  this  simple  stratagem,  I  managed  to  pass  each 
successive  barrier — for  to  ascend  a  wall  which  the  General  was 
pleased  to  call  "  as  smooth  as  glass "  is  an  absurd  impossi- 
bility :  I  seek  to  achieve  none  such ; — 

"  I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man. 
Who  dares  do  more,  is  neither  more  nor  less." 

Of  course,  had  the  enemy's  guns  been  commonly  well 
served,  not  one  of  us  would  ever  have  been  alive  out  of  the 
three  ;  but  whether  it  was  owing  to  fright,  or  to  the  excessive 
smoke  caused  by  so  many  pieces  of  artillery,  arrive  we  did. 
On  the  platforms,  too,  our  work  was  not  quite  so  difhcult  as 
might  be  imagined — killing  these  fellows  was  sheer  butchery. 
As  soon  as  we  appeared,  they  all  turned  and  fled  helter-skelter, 
and  the  reader  may  judge  of  their  courage  by  the  fact  that  out 
of  about  seven  hundred  men  killed  by  us,  only  forty  had 
wounds  in  front,  the  rest  being  bayoneted  as  they  ran. 

And  beyond  all  other  pieces  of  good  fortune  was  the  very 
letting  out  of  these  tigers  ;  which  was  the  dernier  resort  oi  Bour- 
nonville,  the  second  commandant  of  the  fort.  I  had  observed 
this  man  (conspicuous  for  a  tri-colored  scarf  which  he  wore) 
upon  every  one  of  the  walls  as  we  stormed  them,  and  running 
away  the  very  first  among  the  fugitives.     He  had  all  the  keys 


OF  MAJOR  G A  HAG  AN  l^y 

of  the  gates ;  and  in  his  tremor,  as  he  opened  the  mdnagerie 
portal,  left  the  vhole  bunch  in  the  door,  which  I  seized  when 
the  animals  were  overcome.  Runty  Goss  then  opened  them 
one  by  one,  our  troops  entered,  and  the  victorious  standard  of 
my  country  floated  on  the  walls  of  AUyghur ! 

When  the  General,  accompanied  by  his  staff,  entered  the 
last  line  of  fortifications,  the  brave  old  man  raised  me  from  the 
dead  rhinoceros  on  which  I  was  seated,  and  pressed  me  to  hi? 
breast.  But  the  excitement  which  had  borne  me  through  the 
fatigues  and  perils  of  that  fearful  day  failed  all  of  a  sudden, 
and  I  wept  like  a  child  upon  his  shoulder. 

Promotion,  in  our  army,  goes  unluckily  by  seniority;  nor  is 
it  in  the  power  of  the  General-in-Chief  to  advance  a  Caesar,  if 
he  finds  him  in  the  capacity  of  a  subaltern  ;  my  reward  for  the 
above  exploit  was,  therefore,  not  very  rich.  His  Excellency 
had  a  favorite  horn  snuff-box  (for,  though  exalted  in  station,  he 
was  in  his  habits  most  simple)  :  of  this,  and  about  a  quarter  of 
an  ounce  of  high-dried  Welsh,  which  he  always  took,  he  made 
me  a  present,  saying,  in  front  of  the  line,  "  Accept  this,  Mr. 
Gahagan,  as  a  token  of  respect  from  the  first  to  the  bravest 
ofificer  in  the  army." 

Calculating  the  snuff  to  be  worth  a  halfpenny,  I  should  say 
that  fourpence  was  about  the  value  of  this  gift :  but  it  has  at 
least  this  good  effect — it  serves  to  convince  any  person  who 
doubts  my  story,  that  the  facts  of  it  are  really  true.  I  have  left 
it  at  the  ofiice  of  my  publisher,  along  with  the  extract  from  the 
Bengal  Hurkarn,  and  anybody  may  examine  both  by  applying 
in  the  counting-house  of  Mr.  Cunningham.*  That  once  popu- 
lar expression,  or  proverb,  "  Are  you  up  to  snuff  ?  "  arose  out 
of  the  above  circumstance  ;  for  the  officers  of  my  corps,  none 
of  whom,  except  myself,  had  ventured  on  the  storming-party, 
used  to  twit  me  about  this  modest  reward  for  my  labors. 
Never  mind  !  when  they  want  me  to  storm  a  fort  again,  I  shall 
know  better. 

Well,  immediately  after  the  capture  of  this  important  for- 
tress, Perron,  who  had  been  the  life  and  soul  of  Scindiah's 
army,  came  in  to  us,  with  his  family  and  treasure,  and  was 
passed  over  to  the  French  settlements  at  Chandernagur.  Bour- 
quien  took  his  command,  and  against  him  we  now  moved.  The 
morning  of  the  nth  of  September  found  us  upon  the  plains  of 
Delhi. 

•  The  Major  certainly  offered  to  leave  an  old  snuff-box  at  Mr.  Cunningham's  office ) 
but  it  contained  no  extract  from  a  newspaper,  and  does  not  quite  prove  that  he  killed  a 
rilinoceros  and  stormed  fourteen  iutrenchments  at  the  siege  of  AllvghuTt 

II 


158  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

It  was  a  burning  hot  day,  and  we  were  all  refreshing  our- 
selves after  the  morning's  march,  when  I,  who  was  on  the  ad' 
vanced  joiquet  along  with  O'Gawler  of  the  King's  Dragoons, 
was  made  aware  of  the  enemy's  neighborhood  in  a  very  singu- 
lar manner.  O'Gawler  and  I  were  seated  under  a  little  canopy 
of  horse-cloths,  which  we  had  formed  to  shelter  us  from  the 
intolerable  heat  of  the  sun,  and  were  discussing  with  great 
delight  a  few  Manilla  cheroots,  and  a  stone  jar  of  the  most  ex- 
quisite, cool,  weak,  refreshing  sangaree.  We  had  been  piaying 
cards  the  night  before,  and  O'Gawler  had  lost  to  me  seven 
hundred  rupees.  I  emptied  the  last  of  the  sangaree  into  the 
two  pint  tumblers  out  of  which  we  were  drinking,  and  holding 
mine  up,  said,  "  Here's  better  luck  to  you  next  time,  O'Gaw- 
ler 1  " 

As  I  spoke  the  words — whish  ! — a  cannon-ball  cut  the  tum- 
bler clean  out  of  my  hand,  and  plumped  into  poor  O'Gawler's 
stomach.  It  settled  him  completely,  and  of  course  I  never  got 
my  seven  hundred  rupees.     Such  are  the  uncertainties  of  war ! 

To  strap  on  my  sabre  and  my  accoutrements — to  mount  my 
Arab  charger — to  drink  off  what  O'Gawler  had  left  of  the  san- 
garee— and  to  gallop  to  the  General,  was  the  work  of  a  moment. 
I  found  him  as  comfortably  at  tiffin  as  if  he  were  at  his  own 
house  in  London. 

"  General,"  said  I,  as  soon  as  I  got  into  his  paijamahs  (or 
tent),  "  you  must  leave  your  lunch  if  you  want  to  fight  the 
enemy." 

'•The  enemy — psha !  Mr.  Gahagan,  the  enemy  is  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river." 

"  I  can  only  tell  your  Excellency  that  the  enemy's  guns  will 
hardly  carry  five  miles,  and  that  Cornet  O'Gawler  was  this 
moment  shot  dead  at  my  side  with  a  cannon-ball." 

"  Ha  !  is  it  so  ? "  said  his  Excellency,  rising,  and  laying 
down  the  drumstick  of  a  grilled  chicken.  "Gentlemen,  re- 
member that  the  eyes  of  Europe  are  upon  us,  and  follow  me  !  " 

Each  aide-de-camp  started  from  table  and  seized  his  cocked 
hat ;  each  British  heart  beat  high  at  the  thoughts  of  the  coming 
melee.  We  mounted  our  horses,  and  galloped  swiftly  after  the 
brave  old  General ;  I  not  the  last  in  the  train,  upon  my  famous 
black  charger. 

It  was  perfectly  true,  the  enemy  were  posted  in  force  within 
three  miles  of  our  camp,  and  from  a  hillock  in  the  advance  to 
which  we  galloped,  we  were  enabled  with  our  telescopes  to  see 
the  whole  of  his  imposing  line.  Nothing  can  better  describe  it 
tlian  this  : — 


OF  MAJOR  G  AH  AG  AN.  155 

A 


—A  is  the  enemy,  and  the  dots  represent  the  hundred  and 
twenty  pieces  of  artillery  which  defended  his  line.  He  was, 
moreover,  intrenched  ;  and  a  wide  morass  in  his  front  gave  him 
an  additional  security. 

His  Excellency  for  a  moment  surveyed  the  line,  and  then 
said,  turning  round  to  one  of  his  aides-de-camp,  "  Order  up 
Major-General  Tinkler  and  the  cavalry." 

"  Here,  does  your  Excellency  mean  ? "  said  the  aide-de- 
camp, surprised,  for  the  enemy  had  perceived  us,  and  the 
cannon-balls  were  flying  about  as  thick  as  peas. 

''Here,  sir  f'  said  the  old  General,  stamping  with  his  foot 
in  a  passion,  and  the  A.  D.  C.  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
galloped  away.  In  five  minutes  we  heard  the  trumpets  in  our 
camp,  and  intwenty  more  the  greater  part  of  the  cavalry  had 
joined  us. 

Up  they  came,  five  thousand  men,  their  standards  flapping 
in  the  air,  their  long  line  of  polished  jack-boots  gleaming  in  the 
golden  sunlight.     "  And  now  we  are  here,"  said  Major-General 

Sir  Theophilus  Tinkler,  "what  next.?"     "Oh,  d it,"  said 

the  Commander-in-Chief,  "charge,  charge — nothing  like  charge 
ing  —  galloping  —  guns  —  rascally  black  scoundrels  —  charge, 
charge  !  "  And  then  turning  round  to  me  (perhaps  he  was 
glad  to  change  the  conversation),  he  said,  "  Lieutenant  Gaha- 
gan,  you  will  stay  with  me." 

And  well  for  him  I  did,  for  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  the 
battle  was  gained  by  vie.  I  do  not  mean  to  insult  the  reader  by 
pretending  that  any  personal  exertions  of  mine  turned  the  day, 
— that  I  killed,  for  instance,  a  regiment  of  cavalry  or  swallowed 
a  battery  of  guns, — such  absurd  tales  would  disgrace  both  the 
bearer  and  the  teller.  I,  as  is  well  known,  never  say  a  single 
word  which  cannot  be  proved,  and  hate  more  than  all  other 
vices  the  absurd  sin  of  egotism  ;  I  simply  mean  that  my  advice 
to  the  General,  at  a  quarter  past  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
of  that  day,  won  this  great  triumph  for  the  British  army. 

Gleig,  Mill  and  Thorn  have  all  told  the  tale  of  this  war, 
though  somehow  ihey  have  omitted  all  mention  of  the  hero  of 
it.  General  Lake,  for  the  victory  of  that  day,  became  Lord 
Lake  of  Laswaree.     Laswaree  !    and  vdio,  forsooth,  was  the 


i6o  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

real  conqueror  of  Laswaree?  I  can  lay  my  hand  upon  my 
heart  and  say  that  /was.  If  any  proof  is  wanting  of  the  fact, 
let  me  give  it  at  once,  and  from  the  highest  military  testimony 
in  the  world — I  mean  that  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon. 

In  the  month  of  March,  1817,  I  was  a  passenger  on  board 
the  "  Prince  Regent,"  Captain  Harris,  which  touched  at  St. 
Helena  on  its  passage  from  Calcutta  to  England.  In  company 
with  the  other  officers  on  board  the  ship,  I  paid  ray  respects  to 
the  illustrious  exile  of  Longwood,  who  received  us  in  his  garden, 
where  he  was  walking  about,  in  a  nankeen  dress,  and  a  large 
broad-brimmed  straw-hat,  with  General  Montholon,  Count  Las 
Casas,  and  his  son  Emanuel,  then  a  little  boy ;  who  I  dare  say 
does  not  recollect  me,  but  who  nevertheless  played  with  my 
sword-knot  and  the  tassels  of  my  Hessian  boots  during  the 
whole  of  our  interview  with  his  Imperial  Majesty. 

Our  names  were  read  out  (in  a  pretty  accent,  by  the  way  !) 
by  General  Montholon,  and  the  Emperor,  as  each  was  pro- 
nounced, made  a  bow  to  the  owner  of  it,  but  did  not  vouchsafe 
a  word.  At  last  Montholon  came  to  mine.  The  Emperor 
looked  me  at  once  in  the  face,  took  his  hands  out  of  his  pockets, 
put  them  behind  his  back,  and  coming  up  to  me  smiling,  pro- 
nounced the  following  words  : — 

"Assaye,  Delhi,  Deeg,  Futtyghur?" 

I  blushed,  and  taking  off  my  hat  with  a  bow,  said —  Sire, 
c'est  moi." 

"  Parbleu  !  je  le  savais  bien,"  said  the  Emperor,  holding 
out  his  snuff-box.  "En  usez-vous,  Major?"  I  took  a  large 
pinch  (which,  with  the  honor  of  speaking  to  so  great  a  man, 
brought  the  tears  into  my  eyes),  and  he  continued  as  nearly  as 
possible  in  the  following  words  : — 

"  Sir,  you  are  known  ;  you  come  of  an  heroic  nation.  Your 
third  brother,  the  Chef  de  Bataillon,  Count  Godfrey  Gahagan, 
was  in  my  Irish  brigade." 

Gahagan. — ''  Sire,  it  is  true.  He  and  my  countrymen  in 
your  Majesty's  service  stood  under  the  green  flag  in  the  breach 
of  Lurgos,  and  beat  Wellington  back.  It  was  the  only  time, 
as  your  Majesty  knows,  that  Irishmen  and  Englishmen  were 
beaten  in  that  war." 

Napoleon  (looking  as  if  he  would  say,  "  D —  your  candor, 
Major  Gahagan  "). — "  Well,  well ;  it  was  so.  Your  brother  was 
a  Count,  and  died  a  General  in  my  service." 

Gahagan. — "  He  was  found  lying  upon  the  bodies  of  nine 
and-twenty  Cossacks  at  Borodino.  They  were  all  dead,  and 
bore  the  Gahagan  mark." 

Napoleon  (to  Montholon), — "  C'est  vrai,  Montholon  :  je  vous 


OF  MAJOR  GAffAGA^r.  l6l 

donne  ma  parole  d'honneur  la  plus  sacree,  que  c'est  vrai.  lis 
ne  sont  pas  d'autres,  ces  terribles  Ga'gans.  You  must  know 
that  Monsieur  gained  the  battle  of  Delhi  as  certainly  as  I  did 
that  of  Austerlitz.  In  this  way  : — Ce  belitre  de  Lor  Lake,  after 
calling  up  his  cavalry,  and  placing  them  in  front  of  Holkar's 
batteries,  qui  balayient  la  plaine,  was  for  charging  the  enemy's 
batteries  with  his  horse,  who  would  have  been  ecrases,  mitrail- 
les,  foudroyes  to  a  man  but  for  the  cunning  of  ce  grand  rogue 
que  vous  voyez." 

Montholon. — "  Coquin  de  Major,  va  ! " 

Napoleon. — "  Montholon  !  tais-toi.  When  Lord  Lake,  with 
his  great  bull-headed  English  obstinacy,  saw  the  fdchfuse 
position  into  which  he  had  brought  his  troops,  he  was  for  dying 
on  the  spot,  and  would  infallibly  have  done  so — and  the  loss  of 
his  army  would  have  been  the  ruin  of  the  East  India  Company 
— and  the  ruin  of  the  English  East  India  Company  would  have 
established  my  empire  (bah !  it  was  a  republic  then  !)  in  the 
East — but  that  the  man  before  us,  Lieutenant  Goliah  Gahagan, 
was  riding  at  the  side  of  General  Lake." 

Montholon  (with  an  accent  of  despair  and  fury). — "  Gredin  ! 
cent  mille  tonnerres  de  Dieu  !  " 

Napoleon  (benignantly). — "  Calme-toi,  mon  fidele  ami.  What 
will  you  ?  It  was  fate.  Gahagan,  at  the  critical  period  of  the 
battle,  or  rather  slaughter  (for  the  English  had  not  slain  a  man 
of  the  enemy),  advised  a  retreat." 

Montholon. — "  Le  lache  !  Un  Frangals  meurt,  mais  il  ne 
recule  jamais." 

Napoleon. — "  Sti/pide  f  Don't  you  see  why  the  retreat  was 
ordered  ? — don't  you  know  that  it  was  a  feint  on  the  part  of 
Gahagan  to  draw  Holkar  from  his  impregnable  intrenchments  ? 
Don't  you  know  that  the  ignorant  Indian  fell  into  the  snare, 
and  issuing  from  behind  the  cover  of  his  guns,  came  down  with 
his  cavalry  on  the  plains  in  pursuit  of  Lake  and  his  dragoons  ? 
Then  it  was  that  the  Englishmen  turned  upon  him  ;  the  hardy 
children  of  che  north  swept  down  his  feeble  horsemen,  bore 
them  back  to  their  guns,  which  were  useless,  entered  Holkar's 
intrenchments  along  with  his  troops,  sabred  the  jirtiller}anen  at 
their  pieces,  and  won  the  battle  of  Delhi !  " 

As  the  Emperor  spoke,  his  pale  cheek  glowed  red,  his 
eye  flashed  fire,  his  deep  clear  voice  rung  as  of  old  when  he 
pointed  out  the  enemy  from  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Pyra- 
mids, or  rallied  his  regiments  to  the  charge  upon  the  death- 
strewn  plains  of  Wagram.  I  have  had  many  a  proud  moment 
in  my  life  but  never  such  a  proud  one  as  this ;  and  I  would 


i62  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

readily  pardon  the  word  "  coward,"  as  applied  to  me  by  Mon- 
tholon,  in  consideration  of  the  testimony  which  his  master  bore 
in  my  favor. 

"  Major,"  said  the  Emperor  to  me  in  conclusion,  "why  had 
I  not  such  a  man  as  you  in  my  service  ?  I  would  have  made 
you  a  Prince  and  a  Marshal !  "  and  here  he  fell  into  a  reverie, 
of  which  I  knew  and  respected  the  purport.  He  was  thinking, 
doubtless,  that  I  might  have  retrieved  his  fortunes  ;  and  indeed 
I  have  very  little  doubt  that  I  might. 

Very  soon  after,  coffee  was  brought  by  Monsieur  Marchand, 
Napoleon's  valet  de  chambre,  and  after  partaking  of  that  bever- 
age, and  talking  upon  the  politics  of  the  day,  the  Emperor 
withdrew,  leaving  me  deeply  impressed  by  the  condescension 
he  had  shown  in  this  remarkable  interview. 


Chapter   III. 

A  PEEP  INTO  SPAIN ACCOUNT   OF  THE  ORIGIN  AND  SERVICES  OF 

THE  AHMEDNUGGAR  IRREGULARS. 

Head-Quarters,  Morella,  Sept.  \ijth,  1838. 

I  HAVE  been  here  for  some  months,  along  with  my  young 
friend  Cabrera :  and  in  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  war — daily  on 
guard  and  in  the  batteries  for  sixteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty- 
four,  with  fourteen  severe  wounds  and  seven  musket-balls  in 
my  body — it  may  be  imagined  that  I  have  had  little  time  to 
think  about  the  publication  of  my  memoirs.  Inter  arnia  silent 
leges — in  the  midst  of  fighting  be  hanged  to  writing  !  as  the 
poet  says  ;  and  I  never  would  have  bothered  myself  with  a  pen, 
had  not  common  gratitude  incited  me  to  throw  off  a  few  pages. 

Along  with  Oraa's  troops,  who  have  of  late  been  beleaguer- 
ing this  place,  there  was  a  young  Milesian  gentleman,  Mr. 
Toone  O'Connor  Emmett  Fitzgerald  Sheeny,  by  name,  a  law 
student,  and  member  of  Gray's  Inn,  and  what  he  c?\\t^  Bay  Ah 
of  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  Mr.  Sheeny  was  with  the  Queen's 
people,  not  in  a  military  capacity,  but  as  representative  of  an 
English  journal ;  to  which,  for  a  trifling  weekly  remuneration, 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  transmitting  accounts  of  the  movements 
of  the  belligerents,  and  his  own  opinion  of  the  politics  of  Spain. 
Receiving,  for  the  discharge  of  his  duty,  a  couple  of  guineas  a 
week  from  the  proprietors  of  the  journal  in  question,  he  was 
enabled,  as  I  need  scarcely  say,  to  make  such  a  show  in  Oraa's 
camp  as  only  a  Christino  general  ofhcer,  or  at  the  very  least  a 
colonel  of  a  regiment,  can  afford  to  keep  up. 


OF  MAJOR  G  A  HAG  an:  ^63 

In  the  famous  sortie  which  we  made  upon  the  twenty-third, 
I  was  of  course  among  the  foremost  in  the  melee ^  and  found  my- 
self, after  a  good  deal  of  slaughtering  (which  it  would  be  as  dis- 
agreeable as  useless  to  describe  here),  in  the  court  of  a  small 
inn  or  podesta,  which  had  been  made  the  head-quarters  of 
several  Queenite  officers  during  the  siege.  The  pesatero  or 
landlord  of  the  inn  had  been  despatched  by  my  brave  chapel- 
churies,  with  his  fine  family  of  children — the  ofhcers  quartered 
in  the  podesta  had  of  course  bolted ;  but  one  man  remained, 
and  my  fellows  were  on  the  point  of  cutting  him  into  ten 
thousand  pieces  with , their  borachios,  when  I  arrived  in  the 
room  time  enough  to  prevent  the  catastrophe.  Seeing  before 
me  an  individual  in  the  costume  of  a  civilian — a  white  hat,  a 
light-blue  satin  cravat,  embroidered  with  butterflies  and  other 
quadrupeds,  a  green  coat  and  brass  buttons,  and  a  pair  of  blue 
plaid  trousers,  I  recognized  at  once  a  countryman,  and  inter- 
posed to  save  his  life. 

In  an  agonized  brogue  the  unhappy  young  man  was  saying 
all  that  he  could  to  induce  the  chapel-churies  to  give  up  their 
intention  of  slaughtering  him ;  but  it  is  very  little  likely  that 
his  protestations  would  have  had  any  effect  upon  them,  had  not 
I  appeared  in  the  room,  and  shouted  to  the  ruffians  to  hold 
their  hand. 

Seeing  a  general  officer  before  them  (I  have  the  honor  to 
hold  that  rank  in  the  service  of  his  Catholic  Majesty),  and 
moreover  one  six  feet  four  in  height,  and  armed  with  that 
terrible  cabeciUa  (a  sword  so  called,  because  it  is  five  feet  long) 
which  is  so  well  known  among  the  Spanish  armies — seeing,  I 
say,  this  figure,  the  fellows  retired,  exclaiming,  ^^  Adios,  corpo  di 
bacco,  nosofros,'"  and  so  on,  clearly  proving  (by  their  words)  that 
they  would,  if  they  dared,  have  immolated  the  victim  whom  I 
had  thus  rescued  from  their  fury.  "  Villains  !  "  shouted  I,  hear- 
ing them  grumble,  "  away  !  quit  the  apartment !  "  Each  man, 
sulkily  sheathing  his  sombreco,  obeyed,  and  quitted  the  cama- 
rilla. 

It  was  then  that  Mr.  Sheeny  detailed  to  me  the  particulars 
to  which  I  have  briefly  adverted  ;  and,  informing  me  at  the 
same  time  that  he  had  a  family  in  England  who  would  feel 
obliged  to  me  for  his  release,  and  that  his  most  intimate  friend 
the  English  ambassador  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to 
revenge  his  fall,  he  directed  my  attention  to,  a  portmanteau 
passably  well  filled,  which  he  hoped  would  satisfy  the  cupidity 
of  my  troops.  I  said,  though  with  much  regret,  that  I  must 
subject  his  person  to  a  search  ;  and  hence  arose  the  circum- 
stance which  has  called  for  what  I  fear  you  will  consider  9 


164  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

somewhat  tedious  explanation.  I  found  upon  Mr.  Sheeny's 
person  three  sovereigns  in  English  money  (which  I  have  to  this 
day),  and  singularly  enough  a  copy  of  The  JVew  Afonthly 
Magazine,  containing  a  portion  of  my  adventures.  It  was  a 
toss-up  whether  I  should  let  the  poor  young  man  be  shot  or  no, 
but  this  little  circumstance  saved  his  life.  The  gratified  vanity 
of  authorship  induced  me  to  accept  his  portmanteau  and 
valuables,  and  to  allow  the  poor  wretch  to  go  free.  I  put  the 
Magazine  in  my  coat-pocket,  and  left  him  and  the  podesta. 

The  men,  to  my  surprise,  had  quitted  the  building,  and  it 
was  full  time  for  me  to  follow ;  for  I  found  our  sallying  party, 
after  committing  dreadful  ravages  in  Oraa's  lines,  were  in  full 
retreat  upon  the  fort,  hotly  pressed  by  a  superior  force  of  the 
enemy.  I  am  pretty  well  known  and  respected  by  the  men  of 
both  parties  in  Spain  (indeed  I  served  for  some  months  on  the 
Queen's  side  before  I  came  over  to  Don  Carlos) ;  and,  as  it  is 
my  maxim  never  to  give  quarter,  I  never  expect  to  receive  it 
when  taken  myself.  On  issuing  from  the  podesta  with  Sheeny's 
portmanteau  and  my  sword  in  my  hand,  I  was  a  little  disgusted 
and  annoyed  to  see  our  own  men  in  a  pretty  good  column 
retreating  at  double-quick,  and  about  four  hundred  yards  beyond 
me,  up  the  hill  leading  to  the  fort ;  while  on  my  left  hand,  and 
at  only  a  hundred  yards,  a  troop  of  the  Queenite  lancers  were 
clattering  along  the  road. 

I  had  got  into  the  very  middle  of  the  road  before  I  made 
this  discovery,  so  that  the  fellows  had  a  full  sight  of  me,  and 
whizz  !  came  a  bullet  by  my  left  whisker  before  I  could  say 
Jack  Robinson.  I  looked  round — there  were  seventy  of  the 
accursed  vialvados  at  the  least,  and  within,  as  I  said,  a  hundred 
yards.  Were  I  to  say  that  I  stopped  to  fight  seventy  men,  you 
would  write  me  down  a  fool  or  a  liar :  no,  sir,  I  did  not  fight,  I 
ran  away. 

I  am  six  feet  four — my  figure  is  as  well  known  in  the 
Spanish  army  as  that  of  the  Count  de  Luchana,  or  my  fierce 
little  friend  Cabrera  himself.  "  Gahagan  !  "  shouted  out  half 
a  dozen  scoundrelly  voices,  and  fifty  more  shots  came  rattling 
after  me.  I  was  running — running  as  the  brave  stag  before  the 
hounds — running  as  I  have  done  a  great  number  of  times 
before  in  my  life,  when  there  was  no  help  for  it  but  a  race. 

After  I  had  run  about  five  hundred  yards,  I  saw  that  I  had 
gained  nearly  tkree  upon  our  column  in  front,  and  that  likewise 
the  Christino  horsemen  were  left  behind  some  hundred  yards 
more  ;  with  the  exception  of  three,  who  were  fearfully  near  me. 
The  first  was  an  officer  without  a  lance  ;  he  had  fired  both  his 
pistols  at  me,  and  was  twenty  yards  in  advance  of  his  comrades ; 


OF  MAJOR  GAffAGAN'.  i6s 

there  was  a  similar  distance  between  the  two  lancers  who  rode 
behind  him.  I  determined  then  to  wait  for  No.  i,  and  as  he 
came  up  delivered  cut  3  at  his  horse's  near  leg — off  it  flew,  and 
down,  as  I  expected,  went  horse  and  man.  I  had  hardly  time 
to  pass  my  sword  through  my  prostrate  enemy,  when.  No.  2 
was  upon  me.  If  I  could  but  get  that  fellows'  horse,  thought 
I,  I  am  safe ;  and  I  executed  at  once  the  plan  which  I  hoped 
was  to  effect  my  rescue. 

I  had,  as  I  said,  left  the  podesta  with  Sheeny's  portmanteau, 
and,  unwilling  to  part  with  some  of  the  articles  it  contained — ■ 
some  shirts,  a  bottle  of  whiskey,  a  few  cakes  of  Windsor  soap, 
&c.,  &c. — I  had  carried  it  thus  far  on  my  shoulders,  but  now 
was  compelled  to  sacrifice  it  malgr'e  moi.  As  the  lancer  came 
up,  I  dropped  my  sword  from  my  right  hand,  and  hurled  the 
portmanteau  at  his  head,  with  aim  so  true,  that  he  fell  back  on 
his  saddle  like  a  sack,  and  thus  when  the  horse  galloped  up  to 
me,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  dismounting  the  rider  :  the  whiskey- 
bottle  struck  him  over  his  right  eye,  and  he  was  completely 
stunned.  To  dash  hjm  from  the  saddle  and  spring  myself  into 
it,  was  the  work  of  a  moment ;  indeed,  the  two  combats  had 
taken  place  in  about  a  fifth  part  of  the  time  which  it  has  taken 
the  reader  to  peruse  the  description.  But  in  the  rapidity  of 
the  last  encounter,  and  the  mounting  of  my  enemy's  horse,  I 
had  committed  a  very  absurd  oversight — I  was  scampering  away 
without  my  sivord I  What  was  I  to  do  ? — to  scamper  on,  to  be 
sure,  and  trust  to  the  legs  of  my  horse  for  safety  ! 

The  lancer  behind  me  gained  on  me  every  moment,  and  I 
could  hear  his  horrid  laugh  as  he  neared  me.  I  leaned  forward 
jockey  fashion  in  my  saddle,  and  kicked,  and  urged,  and  flogged 
with  my  hand,  but  all  in  vain.  Closer — closer — the  ^oint  of 
his  lance  was  within  two  feet  of  my  back.  Ah  !  ah  !  he  delivered 
the  point,  and  fancy  my  agony  when  I  felt  it  enter — through 
exactly  fifty-nine  pages  of  the  New  Moftthiy  Magazine.  Had  it 
not  been  for  that  Magazine,  I  should  have  been  impaled  with- 
out a  shadow  of  a  doubt.  Was  I  wrong  in  feeling  gratitude  .'' 
Had  I  not  cause  to  continue  my  contributions  to  that  peri- 
odical ! 

When  I  got  safe  into  Morella,  along  with  the  tail  of  the 
sallying  party,  I  was  for  the  first  time  made  acquainted  with  the 
ridiculous  result  of  the  lancer's  thrust  (as  he  delivered  his  lance, 
I  must  tell  you  that  a  ball  came  whizz  over  my  head  from  our 
fellows,  and  entering  at  his  nose,  put  a  stop  to  his  lancing  for 
the  future).  I  hastened  to  Cabrera's  quarter,  and  related  to 
him  some  of  my  adventures  during  the  day. 


l66  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

"  But,  General,"  said  he,  you  are  standing.  I  beg  you 
chiiidete  ruscio  (take  a  chair)." 

I  did  so,  and  then  for  the  first  time  was  aware  that  there 
was  some  foreign  subtance  in  the  tail  of  my  coat,  which  pre- 
vented my  sitting  at  ease.  I  drew  out  the  Magazine  which  I 
had  seized,  and  there,  to  my  wonder,  discovered  the  Christino 
lance  twisted  up  like  a  fish-hook,  or  a  pastoral  crook. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  said  Cabrera  (who  is  a  notorious  wag). 

"  Valdepenas  madrilenos,"  growled  out  Tristany. 

"  By  my  cachuca  di  caballero  (upon  my  honor  as  a  gentle- 
man)," shrieked  out  Ros  d'Eroles,  convulsed  with  laughter,  "  I 
will  send  it  to  the  Bishop  of  Leon  for  a  crozier." 

"  Gahagan  has  consecrated  it,"  giggled  out  Ramon  Cabrera  ; 
and  so  they  went  on  with  their  muchacas  for  an  hour  or  more. 
But,  when  they  heard  that  the  means  of  my  salvation  from  the 
lance  of  the  scoundrelly  Christino  had  been  the  Magazine 
containing  my  own  history,  their  laugh  was  changed  into  wonder. 
I  read  them  (speaking  Spanish  more  fluently  than  English) 
every  word  of  my  story.  "  But  how  is  this  ?  "  said  Cabrera. 
"  You  surely  have  other  adventures  to  relate  ?  " 

"  Excellent  Sir,"  said  I,  "  I  have  ;"  and  that  very  evening, 
as  we  sat  over  our  cups  of  tertullia  (sangaree),  I  continued  my 
narrative  in  nearly  the  following  words  : — 

"  I  left  off  in  the  very  middle  of  the  battle  of  Delhi,  which 
ended,  as  everybody  knows,  in  the  complete  triumph  of  the 
British  arms.  But  who  gained  the  battle  ?  Lord  Lake  is  called 
Viscount  Lake  of  Delhi  and  Laswaree,  while  Major  Gaha — 
nonsense,  never  mind  ///;«,  never  mind  the  charge  he  executed 
when,  sabre  in  hand,  he  leaped  the  six-foot  wall  in  the  mouth 
of  the  roaring  cannon,  over  the  heads  of  the  gleaming  pikes  ; 
when,  with  one  hand  seizing  the  sacred  peishcush,  or  fish — 
which  was  the  banner  always  borne  before  Scindiah, — he,  with 
his  good  sword,  cut  off  the  trunk  of  the  famous  white  elephant, 
which,  shrieking  with  agony,  plunged  madly  into  the  Mahratta 
ranks,  followed  by  his  giant  brethren,  tossing,  like  chaff  before 
the  wind,  the  affrighted  kitmatgars.  He,  meanwhile,  now 
plunging  into  the  midst  of  a  battalion  of  consomahs,  now 
cleaving  to  the  chine  a  screaming  and  ferocious  bobbachee,* 
rushed  on,  like  the  simoom  across  the  red  Zaharan  plain,  killing, 

with  his  own  hand,  a  hundred  and  forty-thr but  never  mind 

— ^  alone  ne  did  it  ;^  sufficient  be  it  for  him,  however,  that  the 

*  The  double-jointed  camel  of  Ractria,  which  the  classic  reader  may  recollect  is  men« 
tioned  by  Suidas  (in  liis  Commentary  on  the  Flight  •!  Darius),  is  so  called  by  tho 
Mahrattas. 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  167 

victory  was  won  :  he  cares  not  for  the  empty  honors  which  were 
awarded  to  more  fortunate  men  ! 

"  We  marched  after  the  battle  to  Delhi,  where  poor  blind 
old  Shah  Allum  received  us,  and  bestowed  all  kinds  of  honors 
and  titles  on  our  General.  As  each  of  the  officers  passed 
before  him,  the  Shah  did  not  fail  to  remark  my  person,*  and 
was  told  my  name. 

"  Lord  Lake  whispered  to  him  my  exploits,  and  the  old  man 
was  so  delighted  with  the  account  of  my  victory  over  the 
elephant  (whose  trunk  I  use  to  this  day),  that  he  said,  *  Let  him 
be  called  Gujputi,'  or  the  lord  of  elephants  ;  and  Gujputi  was 
the  name  by  which  I  was  afterwards  familiarly  known  among 
the  natives, — the  men,  that  is.  The  women  had  a  softer  appel- 
lation for  me,  and  called  me  '  Mushook,'  or  charmer. 

"  Well,  I  shall  not  describe  Delhi,  which  is  doubtless  well 
known  to  the  reader  ;  nor  the  siege  of  Agra,  to  which  place  we 
went  from  Delhi ;  nor  the  terrible  day  at  Laswaree,  which  went 
nigh  to  finish  the  war.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  we  were  victori- 
ous, and  that  I  was  wounded  ;  as  I  have  invariably  been  in  the 
two  hundred  and  four  occasions  when  I  have  found  myself  in 
action.  One  point,  however,  became  in  the  course  of  this  cam- 
paign quite  evident — that  something  must  be  done  for  Gahagan. 
The  country  cried  shame,  the  King's  troops  grumbled,  the  sepoys 
openly  murmured  that  their  Gujputi  was  only  a  lieutenant,  when 
he  had  performed  such  signal  services.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 
Lord  Wellesley  was  in  an  evident  quandary.  '  Gahagan,'  wrote 
he,  '  to  be  a  subaltern  is  evidently  not  your  fate — you  were  born 
for  command ;  but  Lake  and  General  Wellesley  are  good  officers, 
they  cannot  be  turned  out — I  must  make  a  post  for  you.  What 
say  you,  my  dear  fellow,  to  a  corps  of  irregular  horse 'i  ' 

"  It  was  thus  that  the  famous  corps  of  Ahmednuggar 
Irregulars  had  its  origin ;  a  guerilla  force,  it  is  true,  but  one 
which  will  long  be  remembered  in  the  annals  of  our  Indian 
campaigns. 

***** 

"  As  the  commander  of  this  regiment,  I  was  allowed  to  settle 
the  uniform  of  the  corps,  as  well  as  to  select  recruits.  These 
were  not  wanting  as  soon  as  my  appointment  was  made  known, 
but  came  flocking  to  my  standard  a  great  deal  faster  than  to 
the  regular  corps  in  the  Company's  service.  I  had  European 
officers,  of  course,  to  command  them,  and  a  few  of  my  country- 

_  *  There  is  some  trifling  inconsistency  on  the  Major's  part.     Shah  Allum  was  notoriouslj 
blind  :  how,  then,  could  he  have  seen  Gahagan?    The  thing  is  manifestly  impossible. 


l68  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

men  as  sergeants  ;  the  rest  were  all  natives,  whom  I  chose  of 
the  strongest  and  bravest  men  in  India  :  chiefly  Pitans,  Afghans, 
Hurrumzadehs,  and  Calliawns  :  for  these  are  well  known  to 
be  the  most  warlike  districts  of  our  Indian  territory. 

"  When  on  parade  and  in  full  uniform  we  made  a  singular 
and  noble  appearance,  I  was  always  fond  of  dress ;  and, 
in  this  instance,  gave  a  carte  blanche  to  my  taste,  and  invented 
the  most  splendid  costume  that  ever  perhaps  decorated  a  sol- 
dier. I  am,  as  I  have  stated  already,  six  feet  four  inches  in 
height,  and  of  matchless  symmetry  and  proportion.  My  hair 
and  beard  are  of  the  most  brilliant  auburn,  so  bright  as  scarcely 
to  be  distinguished  at  a  distance  from  scarlet.  My  eyes  are 
bright  blue,  overshadowed  by  bushy  eyebrows  of  the  color  of 
my  hair,  and  a  terrific  gash  of  the  deepest  purple,  which  goes 
over  the  forehead,  the  eyelid,  and  the  cheek,  and  finishes  at 
the  ear,  gives  my  face  a  more  strictly  military  appearance  than 
can  be  conceived.  When  I  have  been  drinking  (as  is  pretty 
often  the  case)  this  gash  becomes  ruby  bright,  and  as  I  have 
another  which  took  off  a  piece  of  my  under-lip,  and  shows  five 
of  my  front  teeth,  I  leave  you  to  imagine  that  '  seldom  lighted 
on  the  earth '  (as  the  monster  Burke  remarked  of  one  of  his 
unhappy  victims)  '  a  more  extraordinary  vision.'  I  improved 
these  natural  advantages  ;  and,  while  in  cantonment  during  the 
hot  winds  at  Chitty-bobbary,  allowed  my  hair  to  grow  very  long, 
as  did  my  beard,  which  reached  to  my  waist.  It  took  me  two 
hours  daily  to  curl  my  hair  in  ten  thousand  little  cork-screw 
ringlets,  which  waved  over  my  shoulders,  and  to  get  my  mus- 
taches well  round  to  the  corners  of  my  eyelids.  I  dressed  in 
loose  scarlet  trousers  and  red  morocco  boots,  a  scarlet  jacket, 
and  a  shawl  of  the  same  color  round  my  waist ;  a  scarlet  turban 
three  feet  high,  and  decorated  with  a  tuft  of  the  scarlet  feathers 
of  the  flamingo,  formed  my  head-dress,  and  I  did  not  allow  myself 
a  single  ornament,  except  a  small  silver  skull  and  cross-bones 
in  front  of  my  turban.  Two  brace  of  pistols,  a  Malay  creese, 
and  a  tulwar,  sharp  on  both  sides,  and  very  nearly  six  feet  in 
length,  completed  this  elegant  costume.  My  two  flags  were 
each  surmounted  with  a  real  skull  and  cross-bones,  and  orna- 
mented, one  with  a  black,  and  the  other  with  a  red  beard  (of 
enormous  length,  taken  from  men  slain  in  battle  by  me).  On 
one  flag  were  of  course  the  arms  of  John  Company ;  on  the 
other,  an  image  of  myself  bestriding  a  prostrate  elephant,  with 
the  simple  word  '  Gujputi  '  written  underneath  in  the  Nagaree, 
Persian  and  Sanscrit  characters.  I  rode  my  black  horse,  and 
looked,  by  the  immortal  gods,  like  Mars.     To  me  might  be 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAM  169 

applied  the  words  which  were  written   concerning  handsome 
General  Webb,  In  Marlborough's  time ;  — 

" '  To  noble  danger  he  conducts  the  way. 
His  great  example  all  his  troop  obey, 
Before  the  front  the  Major  sternly  ndes. 
With  such  an  air  as  Mars  to  battle  strides. 
Propitious  heaven  must  sure  a  hero  save 
Like  Paris  handsome,  and  like  Hector  brave !' 

"  My  officers  (Captains  Biggs  and  Mackanulty,  Lieutenants 
Glogger,  Pappendick,  Stuffl^,  &c.,  &c.,)  were  dressed  exactly  in 
the  same  way,  but  in  yellow ;  and  the  men  were  similarly 
equipped,  but  in  black.  I  have  seen  many  regiments  since, 
and  many  ferocious-looking  men,  but  the  Ahmednuggar  Irregu- 
lars were  more  dreadful  to  the  view  than  any  set  of  ruffians  on 
which  I  ever  set  eyes.  I  would  to  heaven  that  the  Czar  of 
Muscovy  had  passed  through  Cabool  and  Lahore,  and  that  I 
with  my  old  Ahmednuggars  stood  on  a  fair  field  to  meet  him ! 
Bless  you,  bless  you,  my  swart  companions  in  victory !  through 
the  mist  of  twenty  years  I  hear  the  booming  of  your  war-cry, 
and  mark  the  glitter  of  your  scimitars  as  ye  rage  in  the  thickest 
of  the  battle  !  * 

"  But  away  with  melancholy  reminiscences.  You  may  fancy 
what  a  figure  the  Irregulars  cut  on  a  field-day — a  line  of  five 
hundred  black-faced,  black-dressed,  black-horsed,  black-bearded 
men — Biggs,  Glogger,  and  the  other  officers  in  yellow,  gal- 
loping about  the  field  like  flashes  of  lightning;  myself  en- 
lightening them,  red,  solitary,  and  majestic,  like  yon  glorious 
orb  in  heaven. 

"  There  are  very  few  men,  I  presume,  who  have  not  heard 
of  Holkar's  sudden  and  gallant  incursion  into  the  Dooab,  in 
the  year  1804,  when  we  thought  that  the  victory  of  Laswaree 
and  the  brilliant  success  at  Deeg  had  completely  finished  him. 
Taking  ten  thousand  horse  he  broke  up  his  camp  at  Palimbang; 
and  the  first  thing  General  Lake  heard  of  him  was,  that  he  was 
at  Putna,  then  at  Rumpooge,  then  at  Doncaradam — he  was,  in 
fact,  in  the  very  heart  of  our  territory. 

"The  unfortunate  part  of  the  affair  was  this  : — His  Excel- 
lency, despising  the  Mahratta  chieftain,  had  allowed  him  to 
advance  about  two  thousand  miles  in  his  front,  and  knew  not 
in  the  slightest  degree  where  to  lay  hold  on  him.  Was  he  at 
Hazarubaug  ?    was  he  at  Bogly  Gunge  ?    nobody  knew,  and 

*  I  do  not  wish  to  brag  of  my  style  of  writing,  or  to  pretend  that  my  genius  as  a  writer 
has  not  been  equalled  in  former  times;  but  if,  in  the  works  of  Byron  Scott,  Goethe,  or  Vic- 
tor Hugo,  the  reader  can  find  a  more  beautiful  sentence  than  the  above,  I  will  be  obliged  to 
him,  that  is  all— I  simply  say,  '  will  be  oblised  to  him.—Q.  O'G.  G.,  M.  H.  E.  I.  C  S« 


Z-jO  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

for  a  considerable  period  the  movements  of  Lake's  cavalry 
were  quite  ambiguous,  uncertain,  promiscuous,  and  undeter* 
mined. 

"  Such,  briefly,  was  the  state  of  affairs  in  October,  1804. 
At  the  beginning  of  that  month  I  had  been  wounded  (a  trifling 
scratch,  cutting  off  my  left  upper  eyelid,  a  bit  of  my  cheek,  and 
my  under-lip),  and  I  was  obliged  to  leave  Biggs  in  command 
of  my  Irregulars  whilst  I  retired  for  my  wounds  to  an  English 
station  at  Furruckabad,  alias  FuUyghur — it  is,  as  every  two- 
penny postman  knows,  at  the  apex  of  the  Dooab,  We  have 
there  a  cantonment,  and  thither  I  went  for  the  mere  sake  of 
the  surgeon  and  the  sticking-plaster. 

"  Furruckabad,  then,  is  divided  into  two  districts  or  towns : 
the  lower  Cotwal,  inhabited  by  the  natives,  and  the  upper 
(which  is  fortified  slightly,  and  has  all  along  been  called  Futty- 
ghur,  meaning  in  Hindustanee  '  the-favorite-resort-of-the-white- 
faced-Feringhees-near-the-mango-tope-consecrated-to-Ram')  oc- 
cupied by  Europeans.  (It  is  astonishing,  by  the  way,  how 
comprehensive  that  language  is,  and  how  much  can  be  conveyed 
in  one  or  two  of  the  commonest  phrases.) 

"Biggs,  then,  and  my  men  were  playing  all  sorts  of  won- 
drous pranks  with  Lord  Lake's  army,  whilst  I  was  detained  an 
unwilling  prisoner  of  health  at  Futtyghur. 

"An  unwilling  prisoner,  however,  I  should  not  say.  The 
cantonment  at  Futtyghur  contained  that  which  would  have 
made  any  man  a  happy  slave.  Woman,  lovely  woman,  was 
there  in  abundance  and  variety !  The  fact  is,  that,  when  the 
campaign  commenced  in  1803,  the  ladies  of  the  army  all  con- 
gregated to  this  place,  where  they  were  left,  as  it  was  supposed, 
in  safety.  I  might,  like  Homer,  relate  the  names  and  qualities 
of  all.  I  may  at  least  mention  some  whose  memory  is  still  most 
dear  to  me.     There  was — 

"Mrs.  Major-General  Bulcher,  wife  of  Bulcher  of  the  in- 
fantry. 

"  Miss  Bulcher. 

"  Miss  Belinda  Bulcher  (whose  name  I  beg  the  printer  to 
put  in  large  capitals). 

"  Mrs.  Colonel  Vandegobbleschroy. 

"  Mrs.  Major  Macan  and  the  four  Misses  Ma^an. 

"The  Honorable  Mrs.  Burgoo,  Mrs.  Flix,  Hicks,  Wicks, 
and  many  more  too  numerous  to  mention.  The  flower  of  our 
camp  was,  however,  collected  there,  and  the  last  words  of 
Lord  Lake  to  me,  as  I  left  him,  were,  '  Gahagan,  I  commit 
those  women  to  your  charge.     Guard  them  with  your  life,  watch 


OF  MAJOR  GAHA  CAN.  1 7 1 

over  them  with  your  honor,  defend  them  with  the  matchless 
power  of  your  indomitable  arm." 

"Futtyghur  is,  as  I  have  said,  a  European  station,  and  the 
pretty  air  of  the  bungalows,  amid  the  clustering  topes  of  mango- 
trees,  has  often  ere  this  excited  the  admiration  of  the  tourist 
and  sketcher.  On  the  brow  of  a  hill — the  Burrumpooter  river 
rolls  majestically  at  its  base  ;  and  no  spot,  in  a  word,  can  be 
conceived  more  exquisitely  arranged,  both  by  art  and  nature, 
as  a  favorite  residence  of  the  British  fair.  Mrs.  Bulcher,  Mrs. 
Vandegobbleschroy,  and  the  other  married  ladies  above  men- 
tioned, had  each  of  them  delightful  bungalows  and  gardens  in 
the  place,  and  between  one  cottage  and  another  my  time  passed 
as  delightfully  as  can  the  hours  of  any  man  who  is  away  from 
his  darling  occupation  of  war. 

"  I  was  the  commandant  of  the  fort.  It  is  a  little  insignif- 
icant pettah,  defended  simply  by  a  couple  of  gabions,  a  very 
ordinary  counterscarp,  and  a  bomb-proof  embrasure.  On  the 
top  of  this  my  flag  was  planted,  and  the  small  garrison  of  forty 
men  only  were  comfortably  barracked  off  in  the  casemates 
within.  A  surgeon  and  two  chaplains  (there  were  besides  three 
reverend  gentlemen  of  amateur  missions,  who  lived  in  the 
town,)  completed,  as  I  may  say,  the  garrison  of  our  little  fort- 
alice,  which  I  was  left  to  defend  and  to  command. 

"  On  the  night  of  the  first  of  November,  in  the  year  1804,  I 
had  invited  Mrs.  Major-General  Bulcher  and  her  daughters, 
Mrs.  Vandegobbleschroy,  and,  indeed,  all  the  ladies  in  the  can- 
tonment, to  a  little  festival  in  honor  of  the  recovery  of  my 
health,  of  the  commencement  of  the  shooting  season,  and  indeed 
as  a  farewell  visit,  for  it  was  my  intention  to  take  dawk  the  very 
next  morning  and  return  to  my  regiment.  The  three  amateur 
missionaries  whom  I  have  mentioned,  and  some  ladies  in  the 
cantonment  of  very  rigid  religious  principles,  refused  to  appear 
at  my  little  party.  They  had  better  never  have  been  born  than 
have  done  as  they  did  :  as  you  shall  hear. 

"We  had  been  dancing  merrily  all  night,  and  the  supper 
(chiefly  of  the  delicate  condor,  the  luscious  adjutant,  and  other 
birds  of  a  similar  kind,  which  I  had  shot  in  the  course  of  the 
day)  had  been  ^vXy  feted  by  every  lady  and  gentleman  present  ; 
when  I  took  an  opportunity  to  retire  on  the  ramparts,  with  the 
interesting  and  lovely  Belinda  Bulcher.  I  was  occupied,  as  the 
French  say,  in  conter-ing  fleurettcs  to  this  sweet  young  creature, 
when,  all  of  a  sudden,  a  rocket  was  seen  whizzing  through  the 
air,  and  a  strong  light  was  visible  in  the  valley  below  the  little 
fort. 


172 


THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 


"  *  What,  fireworks  !     Captain  Gahagan,'  said  Belinda ; '  thb 

is  too  gallant.' 

'"Indeed,  my  dear  Miss  Bulcher,'  said  I,  'they  are  fire- 
works of  which  I  have  no  idea :  perhaps  our  friends  the  mis- 
sionaries  ' 

"  Look,  look  ! '  said  Belinda,  trembling,  and  clutching  tightly 
hold  of  my  arm  :  '  what  do  I  see  ?  yes — no — ^yes  !  it  is — our 
bungalow  is  in  flames  I ' 

"  It  was  true,  the  spacious  bungalow  occupied  by  Mrs. 
Major-General  was  at  that  moment  seen  a  prey  to  the  devour- 
ing element — another  and  another  succeeded  it — seven  bunga- 
lows, before  I  could  almost  ejaculate  the  name  of  Jack  Robin- 
son, were  seen  blazing  brightly  in  the  black  midnight  air ! 

"  I  seized  my  night-glass,  and  looking  towards  the  spot 
where  the  conflagration  raged,  what  was  my  astonishment  to 
see  thousands  of  black  forms  dancing  round  the  fires  ;  whilst 
by  their  lights  I  could  observe  columns  after  colunms  of  Indian 
horse,  arriving  and  taking  up  their  ground  in  the  very  middle 
of  the  open  square  or  tank,  round  which  the  bungalows  were 
built ! 

"  '  Ho,  warder ! '  shouted  I  (while  the  frightened  and  trem- 
bling Belinda  clung  closer  to  my  side,  and  pressed  the  stalwart 
arm  that  encircled  her  waist),  '  down  with  the  drawbridge  !  see 
that  your  masolgees'  (small  tumbrels  which  are  used  in  place 
of  large  artillery)  '  be  well  loaded :  you,  sepoys,  hasten  and 
man  the  ravelin  !  you,  choprasees,  put  out  the  lights  in  the  em- 
brasures !  we  shall  have  warm  work  of  it  to-night,  or  my  name 
is  not  Goliah  Gahagan.' 

"  The  ladies,  the  guests  (to  the  number  of  eighty-three),  the 
sepoys,  choprasees,  masolgees,  and  so  on,  had  all  crowded  on 
the  platform  at  the  sound  of  my  shouting,  and  dreadful  was  the 
consternation,  shrill  the  screaming,  occasioned  by  my  words. 
The  men  stood  irresolute  and  mute  with  terror !  the  women, 
trembling,  knew  scarcely  whither  to  fly  for  refuge.  '  Who  are 
yonder  ruffians  ? '  said  I.  A  hundred  voices  yelped  in  reply — 
some  said  the  Pindarees,  some  said  the  Mahrattas,  some  vowed 
it  was  Scindiah,  and  others  declared  it  was  Holkar — no  one 
knew. 

"  *  Is  there  any  one  here,'  said  I, '  who  will  venture  to  recon- 
noitre  yonder  troops  ? '     There  was  a  dead  pause. 

"  '  A  thousand  tomauns  to  the  man  who  will  bring  me  news 
of  yonder  army  ! '  again  I  repeated.  Still  a  dead  silence.  The 
fact  was  that  Scindiah  and  Holkar  both  were  so  notorious  for 
their  cruelty,  that  no  one  dared  venture  to  face  the  danger. 
*Oh  for  fifty  of  my  brave  Ahmednuggarees  1 '  thought  I. 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN,  173 

" '  Gentlemen,'  said  I,  *I  see  it — ^)'ou  are  cowards — none  of 
you  dare  encounter  the  chance  even  of  death.  It  is  an  encour- 
aging prospect :  know  you  not  that  the  ruffian  Holkar,  if  it  be 
he,  will  with  the  morrow's  dawn  beleaguer  our  little  fort,  and 
throw  thousands  of  men  against  our  walls  ?  know  you  not  that, 
if  we  are  taken,  there  is  no  quarter,  no  hope  ;  death  for  us— 
and  worse  than  death  for  these  lovely  ones  assembled  here  ?' 
Here  the  ladies  shrieked  and  raised  a  howl  as  I  have  heard  the 
jackals  on  a  summer's  evening.  Belinda,  my  dear  Belinda ! 
flung  both  her  arms  round  me,  and  sobbed  on  my  shoulder  (or 
in  my  waistcoat-pocket  rather,  for  the  little  witch  could  reach  no 
higher). 

"  '  Captain  Gahagan,'  sobbed  she,  *  Go — Go— Goggle — iah  /* 

"  '  My  soul's  adored  ! '  replied  I. 

"  '  Swear  to  me  one  thing.' 

"  '  I  swear.' 

"  '  That  if — that  if — the  nasty,  Iiorrid,  odious  black  Mah- 
ra-a-a-attahs  take  the  fort,  you  will  put  me  out  of  their  power.' 

"  I  clasped  the  dear  girl  to  my  heart,  and  swore  upon  my 
sword  that,  rather  than  she  should  incur  the  risk  of  dishonor, 
she  should  perish  by  my  own  hand.  This  comforted  her ;  and 
her  mother,  Mrs.  Major-General  Bulcher,  and  her  elder  sister, 
who  had  not  until  now  known  a  word  of  our  attachment,  (in- 
deed, but  for  these  extraordinary  circumstances,  it  is  probable 
that  we  ourselves  should  never  have  discovered  it),  were  under 
these  painful  circumstances  made  aware  of  my  beloved  Belinda's 
partiality  for  me.  Having  communicated  thus  her  wish  of  self- 
destruction,  I  thought  her  example  a  touching  and  excellent 
one,  and  proposed  to  all  the  ladies  that  they  should  follow  it, 
and  that  at  the  entry  of  the  enemy  into  the  fort,  and  at  a  signal 
given  by  me,  they  should  one  and  all  make  away  with  them- 
selves. Fancy  my  disgust  when,  after  making  this  proposition, 
not  one  of  the  ladies  chose  to  accede  to  it,  and  received  it 
with  the  same  chilling  denial  that  my  former  proposal  to  the 
garrison  had  met  with. 

"In  the  midst  of  this  hurry  and  confusion,  as  if  purposely 
to  add  to  it,  a  trumpet  was  heard  at  the  gate  of  the  fort,  and 
one  of  the  sentinels  came  running  to  me,  saying  that  a  Mahratta 
soldier  was  before  the  gate  with  a  flag  of  truce  ! 

"  I  went  down,  rightly  conjecturing,  as  it  turned  out,  that 
the  party,  whoever  they  might  be,  had  no  artillery;  and  re- 
ceived at  the  point  of  my  sword  a  scroll,  of  which  the  following 
is  a  translation : — 

t2 


174  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

"TO  GOLIAH  GAHAGAN  GUJPUTI. 

"  *  Lord  of  Elephants,  Sir, — I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you 
that  I  arrived  before  this  place  at  eight  o'clock  p.  m.  with  ten 
thousand  cavalry  under  my  orders.  I  have  burned,  since  my 
arrival,  seventeen  bungalows  in  Furruckabad  and  Futtyghur, 
and  have  likewise  been  under  the  painful  necessity  of  putting 
to  death  three  clergymen  (mollahs),  and  seven  English  officers, 
whom  I  found  in  the  village  ;  the  women  have  been  transferred 
to  safe  keeping  in  the  harems  of  my  officers  and  myself. 

" '  As  I  know  your  courage  and  talents,  I  shall  be  very 
happy  if  you  will  surrender  the  fortress,  and  take  service  as  a 
major-general  (hookahbadar)  in  my  army.  Should  my  proposal 
not  meet  with  your  assent,  I  beg  leave  to  state  that  to-morrow 
I  shall  storm  the  fort,  and  on  taking  it,  shall  put  to  death  every 
male  in  the  garrison,  and  every  female  above  twenty  years  of 
age.  For  yourself  I  shall  reserve  a  punishment,  which  for 
novelty  and  exquisite  torture  has,  I  flatter  myself,  hardly  ever 
been  exceeded.  Awaiting  the  favor  of  a  reply,  I  am,  Sir, 
"  '  Your  very  obedient  servant, 

"  '  Jeswunt  Row  Holkar. 

"  *  Camp  before  Fiittyghur,  Sept.   i,  1804. 
"  ♦  R.  S.  V.  P.' 

"  The  officer  who  had  brought  this  precious  epistle  (it  is 
astonishing  how  Holkar  had  aped  the  forms  of  English  cor- 
respondence), an  enormous  Pitan  soldier,  with  a  shirt  of  mail, 
and  a  steel  cap  and  cape,  round  which  his  turban  wound,  was 
leaning  against  the  gate  on  his  matchlock,  and  whistling  a 
national  melody.  I  read  the  letter,  and  saw  at  once  there  was 
no  time  to  be  lost.  That  man,  thought  I,  must  never  go  back 
to  Holkar.  Were  he  to  attack  us  now  before  we  were  pre- 
pared, the  fort  would  be  his  in  half  an  hour. 

"  Tying  my  white  pocket-handkerchief  to  a  stick,  I  flung 
open  the  gate  and  advanced  to  the  officer ;  he  was  standing,  I 
said,  on  the  little  bridge  across  the  moat.  I  made  him  a  low 
salaam,  after  the  fashion  of  the  country,  and,  as  he  bent  for- 
ward to  return  the  compliment,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  plunged 
forward,  gave  him  a  violent  blow  on  the  head,  which  deprived 
him  of  all  sensation,  and  then  dragged  him  within  the  wall, 
raising  the  drawbridge  after  me. 

"  I  bore  the  body  into  my  own  apartment ;  there,  swift  as 
thought,  I.  stripped  him  of  his  turban,  cammerbund,  peijam- 
mahs,  and  papooshes,  and,  putting  them  on  myself,  determined 
to  go  forth  and  reconnoitre  the  enemy." 


OF  MAJOR  CAHAGAN.  j^g 

1^  *  *  *  * 

Here  I  was  obliged  to  stop,  for  Cabrera,  Ros  d'Eroles,  and 
the  rest  of  the  staff,  were  sound  asleep  !  What  I  did  in  my 
reconnaissance,  and  how  I  defended  the  fort  of  Futtyghur,  I 
shall  have  the  honor  of  telling  on  another  occasion. 


Chapter  IV. 

THE   INDIAN   CAMP — THE   SORTIE    FROM    THE   FORT. 

Head-Quarters,  Morella,  Oct.  3,  1838. 

It  is  a  .balmy  night.  I  hear  the  merry  jingle  of  the  tam- 
bourine, and  the  cheery  voices  of  the  girls  and  peasants,  as 
they  dance  beneath  my  casement,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
clustering  vines.  The  laugh  and  song  pass  gayly  round,  and 
even  at  this  distance  I  can  distinguish  the  elegant  form  of 
Ramon  Cabrera,  as  he  whispers  gay  nothings  in  the  ears  of  the 
Andalusian  girls,  or  joins  in  the  thrilling  chorus  of  Riego's 
hymn,  which  is  ever  and  anon  vociferated  by  the  enthusiastic 
soldiery  of  Carlos  Quinto.  I  am  alone,  in  the  most  inacces- 
sible and  most  bomb-proof  tower  of  our  little  fortalice  ;  the 
large  casements  are  open — the  wind,  as  it  enters,  whispers  in 
my  ear  its  odorous  recollections  of  the  orange  grove  and  the 
myrtle  bower.  My  torch  (a  branch  of  the  fragrant  cedar-tree) 
flares  and  flickefs  in  the  midnight  breeze,  and  disperses  its 
scent  and  burning  splinters  on  my  scroll  and  the  desk  where  I 
write — meet  implements  for  a  soldier's  authorship  ! — it  is  car- 
tridge paper  over  which  my  pen  runs  so  glibly,  and  a  yawning 
barrel  of  gunpowder  forms  my  rough  writing-table.  Around 
me,  below  me,  above  me,  all — all  is  peace  !  I  think,  as  I  sit 
here  so  lonely,  on  my  country,  England  !  and  muse  over  the 
sweet  and  bitter  recollections  of  my  early  days  !  Let  me 
resume  my  narrative,  at  the  point  where  (interrupted  by  the 
authoritative  summons  of  war)  I  paused  on  the  last  occasion. 

I  left  off,  I  think — (for  I  am  a  thousand  miles  away  from 
proof-sheets  as  I  write,  and,  were  I  not  writing  the  simple 
TRUTH,  must  contradict  myself  a  thousand  times  in  the  course 
of  my  tale) — I  think,  I  say,  that  I  left  off  at  that  period  of  my 
Story,  when,  Holkar  being  before  Futtyghur,  and  I  in  com* 


tj6  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

manci  of  that  fortress,  I  had  just  been  compelled  to  make  away 
with  his  messenger  ;  and,  dressed  in  the  fallen  Indian's  accou- 
trements, went  forth  to  reconnoitre  the  force,  and,  if  possible, 
to  learn  the  intentions  of  the  enemy.  However  much  my  figure 
might  have  resembled  that  of  the  Pitan,  and,  disguised  in  his 
armor,  might  have  deceived  the  lynx-eyed  Mahrattas,  into 
whose  camp  I  was  about  to  plunge,  it  was  evident  that  a  single 
glance  at  my  fair  face  and  auburn  beard  would  have  undeceived 
the  dullest  blockhead  in  Holkar's  army.  Seizing,  then  a  bottle 
of  Burgess's  walnut  catsup,  I  dyed  my  face  and  my  hands,  and, 
with  the  simple  aid  of  a  flask  of  Warren's  jet,  I  made  my  hair 
and  beard  as  black  as  ebony.  The  Indian's  helmet  and  chain 
hood  covered  likewise  a  great  part  of  my  face,  and  I  hoped 
thus,  with  luck,  impudence,  and  a  complete  command  of  all 
the  Eastern  dialects  and  languages,  from  Burmah  to  Afghanis- 
tan, to  pass  scot-free  through  this  somewhat  dangerous  ordeal. 

I  had  not  the  word  of  the  night,  it  is  true — but  I  trusted  to 
good  fortune  for  that,  and  passed  boldly  out  of  the  fortress, 
bearing  the  flag  of  truce  as  before ;  I  had  scarcely  passed  on  a 
couple  of  hundred  yards,  when  lo  !  a  party  of  Indian  horse- 
men,  armed  like  him  I  had  just  overcome,  trotted  towards  me. 
One  was  leading  a. noble  white  charger,  and  no  sooner  did  he 
see  me  than,  dismounting  from  his  own  horse,  and  giving  the 
rein  to  a  companion,  he  advanced  to  meet  me  with  the  charger; 
a  second  fellow  likewise  dismounted  and  followed  the  first ; 
one  held  the  bridle  of  the  horse,  while  the  other  (with  a  multi- 
tude of  salaams,  aleikums,  and  other  genuflexions,)  held  the 
jewelled  stirrup,  and  kneeling,  waited  until  I  should  mount. 

I  took  the  hint  at  once  :  the  Indian  who  had  come  up  to 
the  fort  was  a  great  man — that  was  evident ;  I  walked  on  with 
a  majestic  air,  gathered  up  the  veh-et  reins,  and  sprung  into 
the  magnificent  high-peaked  saddle.  "  Buk,  buk,"  said  I.  "  It 
is  good.  In  the  name  of  the  forty-nine  Imaums,  let  us  ride  on." 
And  the  whole  party  set  off  at  a  brisk  trot,  I  keeping  silence, 
and  thinking  with  no  little  trepidation  of  what  I  was  about  to 
encounter. 

As  we  rode  along,  I  heard  two  of  the  men  commenting 
upon  my  unusual  silence  (for  I  suppose,  I — that  is  the  Indian 
— was  a  talkative  ofBcer).  "The  lips  of  the  Bahawder  are 
closed,"  said  one.  "Where  are  those  birds  of  Paradise,  his 
long-tailed  words  ?  they  are  imprisoned  between  the  golden 
bars  of  his  teeth  !  " 

"  Kush,"  said  his  companion,  "  be  quiet !  Bobbachy  Bahaw 
dcr  has  seen  the  dreadful  Feringhee,  Gahagan  Khan  Gujputi, 


OF  MAJOR  G  AH  AG  AN.  I^y 

the  elephant-lorJ,  whose  sword  reaps  the  harvest  of  death ; 
there  is  but  one  champion  who  can  wear  the  papooshes  of  the 
elephant-slayer — it  is  Bobbachy  Bahawder!  " 

"  You  speak  truly,  Puneeree  Muckun,  the  Bahawder  rumi- 
nates on  the  words  of  the  unbeliever :  he  is  an  ostrich,  and 
hatches  the  eggs  of  his  thoughts." 

*'  Bekhusm  !  on  my  nose  be  it !  May  the  young  birds,  his 
actions,  be  strong  and  swift  in  flight." 

*'  May  they  digest  trofi  /"  said  Puneeree  Muckun,  who  was 
evidently  a  wag  in  his  way. 

"  0-ho  !  "  thought  I,  as  suddenly  the  light  flashed  upon  me. 
"  It  was,  then,  the  famous  Bobbachy  Bahawder,  whom  I  over- 
came just  now  !  and  he  is  the  man  destined  to  stand  in  my 
slippers,  is  he  .?  "  and  I  was  at  that  very  moment  standing  in 
his  own  !  Such  are  the  chances  and  changes  that  fall  to  the 
lot  of  the  soldier ! 

I  suppose  everybody — everybody  who  has  been  in  India,  at 
least — has  heard  the  name  of  Bobbachy  Bahawder  :  it  is  de- 
rived from  the  two  Hindustanee  words  —  bobbachy,  general ; 
bahawder,  artilleryman.  He  had  entered  into  Holkar's  service 
in  the  latter  capacity,  and  had,  by  his  merit  and  undaunt- 
ed bravery  in  action,  attained  the  dignity  of  the  peacock's 
feather,  which  is  only  granted  to  noblemen  of  the  first  class ; 
he  was  married,  moreover,  to  one  of  Holkar's  innumerable 
daughters  :  a  match  which,  according  to  the  Chronique  Scanda- 
leuse,  brought  more  of  honor  than  of  pleasure  to  the  poor  Bob- 
bachy. Gallant  as  he  was  in  the  field,  it  was  said  that  in  the 
harem  he  was  the  veriest  craven  alive,  completely  subjugated 
by  his  ugly  and  odious  wife.  In  all  matters  of  importance  the 
late  Bahawder  had  been  consulted  by  his  prince,  who  had,  as 
it  appears,  (knowing  my  character,  and  not  caring  to  do  any- 
thing rash  in  his  attack  upon  so  formidable  an  enemy,)  sent 
forward  the  unfortunate  Pitan  to  reconnoitre  the  fort ;  he  was 
to  have  done  yet  more,  as  I  learned  from  the  attendant  Pu- 
neeree Muckun,  who  was,  I  soon  found  out,  an  old  favorite 
with  the  Bobbachy — doubtless  on  account  of  his  honesty  and 
love  of  repartee. 

"  The  Bahawder's  lips  are  closed,"  said  he,  as  last,  trotting 
up  to  me ;  "  has  he  not  a  word  for  old  Puneeree  Muckun  .?  " 

"  Bismillah,  mashallah,  barikallah,'  said  I  ;  which  means, 
"  My  good  friend,  what  I  have  seen  is  not  worth  the  trouble 
of  relation,  and  fills  my  bosom  with  the  darkest  forebodings." 

"  You  could  not  then  see  the  Gujputi  alone,  and  stab  hm 
with  your  dagger  ?  " 


lyg  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

[Here  was  a  pretty  conspiracy !]  "  No,  I  saw  him,  but  not 
alone  ;  his  people  were  always  with  him." 

"  Hurrumzadeh  !  it  is  a  pity  ;  we  waited  but  the  sound  of 
your  jogree  (whistle),  and  straightway  would  have  galloped  up 
and  seized  upon  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  fort :  how- 
ever, there  are  but  a  dozen  men  in  the  garrison,  and  they  have 
not  provision  for  two  days — they  must  yield  ;  and  then  hurrah 
for  the  moon-faces !  Mashallah  !  I  am  told  the  soldiers  who 
first  get  in  are  to  have  their  pick.  How  my  old  woman,  Rotee 
Muckun,  will  be  surprised  when  I  bring  home  a  couple  of  Fer- 
inghee  wives, — ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Fool !  "  said  I,  "  be  still  ! — twelve  men  in  the  garrison  ! 
there  are  twelve  hundred  !  Gahagan  himself  is  as  good  as  a 
thousand  men  ;  and  as  for  food,  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes  five 
hundred  bullocks  grazing  in  the  court-yard  as  I  entered."  This 
was  a  bouncer,  I  confess  ;  but  my  object  was  to  deceive  Pu- 
neeree  Muckun,  and  give  him  as  high  a  notion  as  possible  of 
the  capabilities  of  defence  which  the  besieged  had. 

"  Pooch,  pooch,"  murmured  the  men  ;  "it  is  a  wonder  of  a 
fortress  :  we  shall  never  be  able  to  take  it  until  our  guns  come 
up." 

There  was  hope  then  !  they  had  no  battering-train.  Ere 
this  arrived,  I  trusted  that  Lord  Lake  would  hear  of  our  plight, 
and  march  down  to  rescue  us.  Thus  occupied  in  thought  and 
conversation,  we  rode  on  until  the  advanced  sentinel  challenged 
us,  when  old  Puneeree  gave  the  word,  and  we  passed  on  into 
the  centre  of  Holkar's  camp. 

It  was  a  strange — a  stirring  sight !  The  camp-fires  were 
lighted  ;  and  round  them — eating,  reposing,  talking,  looking  at 
the  merry  steps  of  the  dancing-girls,  or  listening  to  the  stories 
of  some  Dhol  Baut  (or  Indian  improvisatore) — were  thousands 
of  dusky  soldiery.  The  camels  and  horses  were  picketed  under 
the  banyan-trees,  on  which  the  ripe  mango  fruit  was  growing, 
and  offered  them  an  excellent  food.  Towards  the  spot  which 
the  golden  fish  and  royal  purdahs,  floating  in  the  wind,  des- 
ignated as  the  tent  of  Holkar,  led  an  immense  avenue — of 
elephants  !  the  finest  street,  indeed,  I  ever  saw.  Each  of  the 
monstrous  animals  had  a  castle  on  its  back,  armed  with  Mauri- 
tanian  archers  and  the  celebrated  Persian  matchlock-men  !  it 
was  the  feeding  time  of  these  royal  brutes,  and  the  grooms  were 
observed  bringing  immense  toffungs,  or  baskets,  filled  with 
pine-apples,  plantains,  bananas,  Indian  corn,  and  cocoa-nuts, 
which  grow  luxuriantly  at  all  seasons  of  the  year.  We  passed 
down  this  extraordinary  avenue — no  less  than  three  hundred 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


79 


and  eighty-eight  tails  did  I  count  on  each  side — each  tail  as 
pertaining  to  an  elephant  twenty-five  feet  high — each  elephant 
having  a  two-storied  castle  on  its  back — each  castle  contain- 
ing sleeping  and  eating  rooms  for  the  twelve  men  that  formed 
its  garrison,  and  were  keeping  watch  on  the  roof — each  roof 
bearing  a  flag-staff  twenty  feet  long  on  its  top,  the  crescent 
glittering  with  a  thousand  gems,  and  round  it  the  imperial 
standard, — each  standard  of  silk  velvet  and  cloth-of-gold,  bear- 
ing the  well-known  device  of  Holkar,  argent  an  or  gules,  be- 
tween a  sinople  of  the  first,  a  chevron,  truncated,  wavy.  I  took 
nine  of  these  myself  in  the  course  of  a  very  short  time  after, 
and  shall  be  happy,  when  I  come  to  England,  to  show  them  to 
any  gentleman  who  has  a  curiosity  that  way.  Through  this 
gorgeous  scene  our  little  cavalcade  passed,  and  at  last  we 
arrived  at  the  quarters  occupied  by  Holkar. 

That  celebrated  chieftain's  tents  and  followers  were  gathered 
round  one  of  the  British  bungalows  which  had  escaped  the 
flames,  and  which  he  occupied  during  the  siege.  When  I 
entered  the  large  room  where  he  sat,  I  found  him  in  the  midst 
of  a  council  of  war ;  his  chief  generals  and  viziers  seated  round 
him,  each  smoking  his  hookah,  as  is  the  common  way  with 
these  black  fellows,  before,  at,  and  after  breakfast,  dinner, 
supper,  and  bedtime.  There  was  such  a  cloud  raised  by  their 
smoke  you  could  hardly  see  a  yard  before  you — another  piece 
of  good  luck  for  me — as  it  diminished  the  chances  of  my  detec- 
tion. When,  with  the  ordinary  ceremonies,  the  kitmatgars  and 
consomahs  had  explained  to  the  prince  that  Bobbachy  Bahawder, 
the  right  eye  of  the  Sun  of  the  universe  (as  the  ignorant  hea- 
thens called  me),  had  arrived  from  his  mission,  Holkar  imme- 
diately summoned  me  to  the  maidaun,  or  elevated  platform,  on 
which  he  was  seated  in  a  luxurious  easy-chair,  and  I,  instantly 
taking  off  my  slippers,  falling  on  my  knees,  and  beating  my 
head  against  the  ground  ninety-nine  times,  proceeded,  still  on 
my  knees,  a  hundred  and  twenty  feet  through  the  room,  and 
then  up  the  twenty  steps  which  led  to  his  maidaun — a  silly, 
painful,  and  disgusting  ceremony,  which  can  only  be  con- 
sidered as  a  relic  of  barbarian  darkness,  which  tears  the  knees 
and  shins  to  pieces,  let  alone  the  pantaloons.  I  recommend 
anybody  who  goes  to  India,  with  the  prospect  of  entering  the 
service  of  the  native  rajahs,  to  recollect  my  advice,  and  have 
them  well  wadded. 

Well,  the  right  eye  of  the  Sun  of  the  universe  scrambled  as 
well  as  he  could  up  the  steps  of  the  maidaun  (on  which,  in 
rows,  smoking,  as  I  have  said,  the  musnuds  or  general  officers 


l8o  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

were  seated),  and  I  arrived  within  speaking-distance  of  Holkar, 
who  instantly  asked  me  the  success  of  my  mission.  The  im- 
petuous old  man  thereon  poured  out  a  multitude  of  questions : 
"  How  many  men  are  there  in  the  fort  ? "  said  he ;  "  how  many 
women  ?  Is  it  victualled  ?  have  they  ammunition  ?  Did  you 
see  Gahagan  Sahib,  the  commander  ?  did  you  kill  him  ?  " 

All  these  questions  Jeswunt  Row  Holkar  puffed  out  with  so 
many  whiffs  of  tobacco. 

Taking  a  chillum  myself,  and  raising  about  me  such  a  cloud 
that,  upon  my  honor  as  a  gentleman,  no  man  at  three  yards' 
distance  could  perceive  anything  of  me  except  the  pillar  of 
smoke  in  which  I  was  encompassed,  I  told  Holkar,  in  Oriental 
language  of  course,  the  best  tale  I  could  with  regard  tc  the 
fort. 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  to  answer  your  last  question  first — that 
dreadful  Gujputi  I  have  seen — and  he  is  alive  :  he  is  eight 
feet,  nearly,  in  height ;  he  can  eat  a  bullock  daily  (of  which  he 
has  seven  hundred  at  present  in  the  compound,  and  swears 
that  during  the  siege  he  will  content  himself  with  only  three  a 
week)  :  he  has  lost,  in  battle,  his  left  eye ;  and  what  is  the 
consequence  ?  O  Ram  Gunge  "  (O  thou-with-the-eye-as-bright- 
as-morning  and-with-beard-as-black-as-night),  "  Goliah  Gujputi 

NEVER   SLEEPS !  " 

"  Ah,  you  Ghorumsaug  (you  thief  of  the  world,)  "  said  th? 
Prince  Vizier,  Saadut  Alee  Beg  Bimbukchee — "  it's  joking  you 
are ; " — and  there  was  a  universal  buzz  through  the  room  at 
the  announcement  of  this  bouncer. 

"  By  the  hundred  and  eleven  incarnations  of  Vishnu,"  said 
I,  solemnly  (an  oath  which  no  Indian  was  ever  known  to 
break),  "  I  swear  that  so  it  is :  so  at  least  he  told  me,  and  I 
have  good  cause  to  know  his  power.  Gujputi  is  an  enchanter: 
he  is  leagued  with  devils ;  he  is  invulnerable.  Look,"  said  I, 
unsheathing  my  dagger  —  and  every  eye  turned  instantly 
towards  me — "  thrice  did  I  stab  him  with  this  steel — in  the 
back,  once — twice  right  through  the  heart ;  but  he  only  laughed 
me  to  scorn,  and  bade  me  tell  Holkar  that  the  steel  was  not 
yet  forged  which  was  to  inflict  an  injury  upon  him." 

I  never  saw  a  man  in  such  a  rage  as  Holkar  was  when  I 
gave  him  this  somewhat  imprudent  message. 

"  Ah,  lily-livered  rogue  ! "  shouted  he  out  to  me,  "  milk- 
blooded  unbeliever !  pale-faced  miscreant !  lives  he  after  in- 
sulting thy  master  in  thy  presence  ?  In  the  name  of  the 
Prophet,  I  spit  on  thee,  defy  thee,  abhor  thee,  degrade  thee ! 
Take  that,  thou  liar  of  the  universe  !  and  that — and  that — and 
thatl" 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  l8i 

Such  are  the  frightful  excesses  of  barbaric  minds  !  every 
time  this  old  man  said,  "Take  that,"  he  flung  some  article  near 
him  at  the  head  of  the  undaunted  Gahagan — his  dagger,  his 
sword,  his  carbine,  his  richly  ornamented  pistols,  his  turban 
covered  with  jewels,  worth  a  hundred  thousand  crores  of  rupees 
— finally,  his  hookah,  snake  mouthpiece,  silver-bell,  chillum  and 
all — which  went  hissing  over  my  head,  and  flattening  into  a 
jelly  the  nose  of  the  Grand  Vizier. 

"  Yock  muzzee  ! "  my  nose  is  off,"  said  the  old  man,  mildly. 
"Will  you  have  my  life,  O  Holkar  ?  it  is  thine  likewise  !  "  and 
no  other  word  of  complaint  escaped  his  lips. 

Of  all  these  missiles,  though  a  pistol  and  carbine  had  gone 
off  as  the  ferocious  Indian  flung  them  at  my  head,  and  the 
naked  scimitar,  fiercely  but  adroitly  thrown,  had  lopped  off  the 
limbs  of  one  or  two  of  the  musnuds  as  they  sat  trembling  on 
their  omrahs,  yet,  strange  to  say,  not  a  single  weapon  had  hurt 
me.  When  the  hubbub  ceased,  and  the  unlucky  wretches  who 
had  been  the  victims  of  this  fit  of  rage  had  been  removed, 
Holkar's  good-humor  somewhat  returned,  and  he  allowed  me 
to  continue  my  account  of  the  fort ;  which  I  did,  not  taking  the 
slightest  notice  of  his  burst  of  impatience  :  as  indeed  it  would 
have  been  the  height  of  impoliteness  to  have  done,  for  such 
accidents  happened  many  times  in  the  day, 

"  It  is  well  that  the  Bobbachy  has  returned,"  snuffled  out 
the  poor  Grand  Vizier,  after  I  had  explained  to  the  Council  the 
extraordinary  means  of  defence  possessed  by  the  garrison. 
"  Your  star  is  bright,  O  Bahawder !  for  this  very  night  we  had 
resolved  upon  an  escalade  of  the  fort,  and  he  had  swore  to  put 
every  one  of  the  infidel  garrison  to  the  edge  of  the  sword." 

"  But  you  have  no  battering  train,"  said  I. 

"Bah  !  we  have  a  couple  of  ninety-six  pounders,  quite  suffi- 
cient to  blow  the  gates  open  ;  and  then,  hey  for  a  charge  !  " 
said  Loll  Mahommed,  a  general  of  cavalry,  who  was  a  rival  of 
Bobbachy's,  and  contradicted,  therefore,  every  word  I  said. 
"  In  the  name  of  Juggernaut,  why  wait  for  the  heavy  artillery  ! 
Have  we  not  swords  ?  Have  we  not  hearts  ?  Mashallah  !  Let 
cravens  stay  with  Bobbachy,  all  true  men  will  follow  Loll 
Mahommed  !  Allahhumdillah,  Bismillah,  Barikallah  ? "  *  and 
drawing  his  scimitar,  he  waved  it  over  his  head,  and  shouted 
out  his  cry  of  battle.  It  was  repeated  by  many  of  the  other 
omrahs ;  the  sound  of  their  cheers  was  carried  into  the  camp, 

*  The  Major  has  put  the  most  approved  language  into  the  mouths  of  his  Indian  char- 
acters. Bismillah,  Barikillah,  and  so  on,  according  to  the  novelists,  form  the  very  essenof 
oi  Eastern  conversation. 


1 82  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

and  caught  up  by  the  men  ;  the  camels  began  to  cry,  the  horses 
to  prance  and  neigh,  the  eight  hundred  elephants  set  up  a 
scream,  the  trumpeters  and  drummers  clanged  away  at  their  in- 
struments. I  never  heard  such  a  din  before  or  after.  How  I 
trembled  for  my  little  garrison  when  I  heard  the  enthusiastic 
cries  of  this  innumerable  host ! 

There  was  but  one  way  for  it.  "  Sir,"  said  I,  addressing 
Holkar,  "go  out  to-night,  and  you  go  to  certain  death.  Loll 
Mahommed  has  not  seen  the  fort  as  I  have.  Pass  the  gate  if 
you  please,  and  for  what  ?  to  fall  before  the  fire  of  a  hundred 
pieces  of  artillery  ;  to  storm  another  gate,  and  then  another, 
and  then  to  be  blown  up,  with  Gahagan's  garrison  in  the  citadel. 
Who  talks  of  courage  .''  Were  I  not  in  your  august  presence,  O 
star  of  the  faithful,  I  would  crop  Loll  Mahommed's  nose  from 
his  face,  and  wear  his  ears  as  an  ornament  in  my  own  pugree  ! 
Who  is  there  here  that  knows  not  the  difference  between  yonder 
yellow-skinned  coward  and  Gahagan  Khan  Guj — I  mean  Bob- 
bachy  Bahawder  ?  I  am  ready  to  fight  one,  two,  three,  or 
twenty  of  them,  at  broad-sword,  small-sword,  single-stick,  with 
fists,  if  you  please.  By  the  holy  piper,  fighting  is  like  mate  and 
dthrink  to  Ga — to  Bobbachy,  I  mane — whoop !  come  on,  you 
divvle,  and  I'll  bate  the  skin  off  your  ugly  bones." 

This  speech  had  very  nearly  proved  fatal  to  me,  for,  when  I 
am  agitated,  I  involuntarily  adopt  some  of  the  phraseology 
peculiar  to  my  own  country  ;  which  is  so  un-eastern,  that,  had 
there  been  any  suspicion  as  to  my  real  character,  detection 
must  indubitably  have  ensued.  As  it  was,  Holkar  perceived 
nothing,  but  instantaneously  stopped  the  dispute.  Loll 
Mahommed,  however,  evidently  suspected  something,  for,  as 
Holkar,  with  a  voice  of  thunder,  shouted  out,  "  Tomasha 
(silence),"  Loll  sprang  forward  and  gasped  out — 

"  My  lord  !  my  lord !  this  is  not  Bob " 

But  he  could  say  no  more.  "  Gag  the  slave  !  "  screamed 
out  H^olkar,  stamping  with  fury ;  and  a  turban  was  instantly 
twisted  round  the  poor  devil's  jaws.  "  Ho,  furoshes  !  carry 
out  Loll  Mahommed  Khan,  give  him  a  hundred  dozen  on  the 
soles  of  his  feet,  set  him  upon  a  white  donkey,  and  carry  him 
round  the  camp,  with  an  inscription  before  him:  "This  is  the 
way  that  Holkar  rewards  the  talkative.'  " 

I  breathed  again  ;  and  ever  as  I  heard  each  whack  of  the 
bamboo  falling  on  Loll  Mahommed's  feet,  I  felt  peace  returning 
to  my  mind,  and  thanked  my  stars  that  I  was  delivered  of  this 
danger. 

"  Vizier,"  said  Holkar,  who  enjoyed  LoU's  roars  amazingly 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  183 

"  I  owe  you  a  reparation  for  your  nose :  kiss  the  hand  of  your 
prince,  0  Saadut  Alee  Beg  Bimbukchee  !  be  from  this  day  forth 
Zoheir  u  Dowlut !  " 

The  good  old  man's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  I  can  bear  thy 
severity,  O  Prince,"  said  he  ;  "I  cannot  bear  thy  love.  Was  it 
not  an  honor  that  your  Highness  did  me  just  now  when  you  con- 
descended to  pass  over  the  bridge  of  your  slave's  nose?" 

The  phrase  was  by  all  voices  pronounced  to  be  very  poeti- 
cal. The  Vizier  retired,  crowned  with  his  new  honors,  to  bed. 
Holkar  was  in  high  good  humor. 

"  Bobbachy,"  said  he,  "  thou,  too,  must  pardon  me.  A 
propos,  I  have  news  for  thee.  Your  wife,  the  incomparable 
Puttee  Rooge  "  (white  and  red  rose),  "  has  arrived  in  camp." 

"  My  wife,  my  lord  !  "  said  I,  aghast. 

"  Our  daughter,  the  light  of  thine  eyes  !  Go,  my  son  ;  I  see 
thou  art  wild  with  joy.  The  Princess's  tents  are  set  up  close  by 
mine,  and  I  know  thou  longest  to  join  her." 

My  wife  ?     Here  was  a  complication  truly 


Chapter  V. 

THE    ISSUE   OF    MY    INTERVIEW   WITH   MY   WIFE. 

I  FOUND  Puneeree  Muckun,  with  the  rest  of  my  attendants, 
waiting  at  the  gate,  and  they  immediately  conducted  me  to  my 
own  tents  in  the  neighborhood.  I  have  been  in  many  dangerous 
predicaments  before  that  time  and  since,  but  I  don't  care  to 
deny  that  I  felt  in  the  present  instance  such  a  throbbing  of  the 
heart  as  I  never  have  experienced  when  leading  a  forlorn  hope, 
or  marching  up  to  a  battery. 

As  soon  as  I  entered  the  tents  a  host  of  menials  sprang  for- 
ward, some  to  ease  me  of  my  armor,  some  to  offer  me  refresh- 
ments, some  with  hookahs,  attar  of  roses  (in  great  quart  bottles), 
and  the  thousand  delicacies  of  Eastern  life.  I  motioned  them 
away.  "  I  will  wear  my  armor,"  said  I ;  "  I  shall  go  forth  to- 
night ;  carry  my  duty  to  the  princess,  and  say  I  grieve  that 
to-night  I  have  not  the  time  to  see  her.  Spread  me  a  couch 
here,  and  bring  me  supper  here :  a  jar  of  Persian  wine  well 
cooled,  a  lamb  stuffed  with  pistachio-nuts,  a  pillaw  of  a  couple 
of  turkeys,  a  curried  kid  —  anything,  Begone  !  Give  me  a 
pipe ;  leave  me  alone,  and  tell  me  when  the  meal  is  ready." 


l84  "^HE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

I  thought  by  these  means  to  put  off  the  fair  Puttee  Rooge, 
and  hoped  to  be  able  to  escape  without  subjecting  myself  to  the 
examination  of  her  curious  eyes.  After  smoking  for  a  while,  an 
attendant  came  to  tell  me  that  my  supper  was  prepared  in  the 
inner  apartment  of  the  tent  (I  suppose  that  the  reader,  if  he  be 
possessed  of  the  commonest  intelligence,  knows  that  the  tents 
of  the  Indian  grandees  are  made  of  the  finest  Cashmere  shawls, 
and  contain  a  dozen  rooms  at  least,  with  carpets,  chimneys,  and 
sash-windows  complete).  I  entered,  I  say,  into  an  inner  cham- 
ber, and  there  began  with  my  fingers  to  devour  my  meal  in  the 
Oriental  fashion,  taking,  every  now  and  then,  a  pull  from  the 
wine  jar,  which  was  cooling  deliciously  in  another  jar  of  snow. 

I  was  just  in  the  act  of  despatching  the  last  morsel  of  a  most 
savory  stewed  lamb  and  rice,  which  had  formed  my  meal,  when 
I  heard  a  scuffle  of  feet,  a  shrill  clatter  of  female  voices,  and,  the 
curtain  being  flung  open,  in  marched  a  lady  accompanied  by 
twelve  slaves,  with  moon  faces  and  slim  waists,  lovely  as  the 
houris  in  Paradise. 

The  lady  herself,  to  do  her  justice,  was  as  great  a  contrast 
to  her  attendants  as  could  possibly  be  :  she  was  crooked,  old, 
of  the  complexion  of  molasses,  and  rendered  a  thousand  times 
more  ugly  by  the  tawdry  dress  and  the  blazing  jewels  with 
which  she  was  covered.  A  line  of  yellow  chalk  drawn  from  her 
forehead  to  the  tip  of  her  nose  (which  was  further  ornamented 
by  an  immense  glittering  nose-ring),  her  eyelids  painted  bright 
red,  and  a  large  dab  of  the  same  color  on  her  chin,  showed  she 
was  not  of  the  Mussulman,  but  the  Brahmin  faith — and  of  a 
very  high  caste  ;  you  could  see  that  by  her  eyes.  My  mind  was 
instantaneously  made  up  as  to  my  line  of  action. 

The  male  attendants  had  of  course  quitted  the  apartment,  as 
they  heard  the  well-known  sound  of  her  voice.  It  would  have 
been  death  to  them  to  have  remained  and  looked  in  her  face. 
The  females  ranged  themselves  round  their  mistress,  as  she 
squatted  down  opposite  to  me. 

"  And  is  this,"  said  she,  "  a  welcome,  O  Khan  !  after  six 
months'  absence,  for  the  most  unfortunate  and  loving  wife  in 
all  the  world  ?  Is  this  lamb,  O  glutton  !  half  so  tender  as  thy 
spouse .''     Is  this  wine,  O  sot !  half  so  sweet  as  her  looks  }  " 

I  saw  the  storm  was  brewing — her  slaves,  to  whom  she 
turned,  kept  up  a  kind  of  chorus  : — 

"  Oh,  the  faithless  one  !  "  cried  they.  "  Oh,  the  rascal,  the 
false  one,  who  has  no  eye  for  beauty,  and  no  heart  for  love,  like 
the  Khanum's  ! " 

"A  lamb  is  not  so  sweet  as  love,"  said  I  gravely:  "but  a 


OP  MAJOR  C A  HAG  AN.  185 

lamb  has  a  good  temper  \  a  wine-cup  is  not  so  intoxicating  as  a 
woman — but  a  wine-cup  has  no  tongue,  O  Khanum  Gee  ! "  and 
again  I  dipped  my  nose  in  the  soul-refreshing  jar. 

The  sweet  Puttee  Rooge  was  not,  however,  to  be  put  off  by 
my  repartees  ;  she  and  lier  maidens  recommenced  their  chorus, 
and  chattered  and  stormed  until  I  lost  all  patience. 

"Retire,  friends,"  said  I,  "and  leave  me  in  peace." 

"  Stir,  on  your  peril !  "  cried  the  Khanum. 

So,  seeing  there  was  no  help  for  it  but  violence,  I  drew  out 
my  pistols,  cocked  them,  and  said,  "Ohouris!  these  pistols 
contain  each  too  balls :  the  daughter  of  Holkar  bears  a  sacred 
life  for  me — but  for  you  ! — by  all  the  saints  of  Hindustan,  four 
ot  ye  shall  die  if  ye  stay  a  moment  longer  in  my  presence  !  " 
This  was  enough ;  the  ladies  gave  a  shriek,  and  skurried  out  of 
the  apartment  like  a  covey  of  partridges  on  the  wing. 

Now,  then,  was  the  time  for  action.  My  wife,  or  rather 
Bobbachy's  wife,  sat  still,  a  little  flurried,  by  the  unusual  fero- 
city which  her  lord  had  displayed  in  her  presence.  I  seized 
her  hand  and,  griping  it  close,  whispered  in  her  ear,  to  which 
I  put  the  other  pistol : — "  O  Khanum,  listen  and  scream  not ; 
the  moment  you  scream,  you  die ! "  She  was  completely 
beaten ;  she  turned  as  pale  as  a  woman  could  in  her  situation, 
and  said,  "  Speak,  Bobbachy  Bahawder,  I  am  dumb." 

"Woman,"  said  I,  taking  off  my  helmet,  and  removing  the 
chain  cape  which  had  covered  almost  the  whole  of  my  face — 
"/  atn  not  thy  husband — I  am  the  slayer  of  elephants,  the 
world-renowned  Gahagan  ! " 

As  I  said  this,  and  as  the  long  ringlets  of  red  hair  fell  over 
my  shoulders  (contrasting  strangely  with  my  dyed  face  and 
beard),  I  formed  one  of  the  finest  pictures  that  can  possibly  be 
conceived,  and  I  recommend  it  as  a  subject  to  Mr.  Heath,  for 
the  next  "  Book  of  Beauty." 

"  Wretch  !  "  said  she,  "  what  wouldst  thou  ?  " 

"You  black-faced  fiend,"  said  I,  "raise  but  your  voice,  and 
you  are  dead  !  " 

"And  afterwards,"  said  she,  "do  you  suppose  that  you  can 
escape  ?  The  torments  of  hell  are  not  so  terrible  as  the  tor- 
tures that  Holkar  will  invent  for  thee." 

"  Tortures,  madam  ?  "  answered  I,  coolly.  "  Fiddlesticks  ! 
You  will  neither  betray  me,  nor  will  I  be  put  to  the  torture :  on 
the  contrary,  you  will  give  me  your  best  jewels  and  facilitate 
my  escape  to  the  fort.  Don't  grind  your  teeth  and  swear  at 
me.  Listen,  madam  :  you  know  this  dress  and  these  arms  ;— 
they  are  the  arms  of  yout  husband,  Bobbachy  Bahawder — my 


i86  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

prisoner.  He  now  lies  in  yonder  fort,  and  if  I  do  not  return 
before  daylight,  at  sunrise  he  dies :  and  then,  when  they  send  his 
corpse  back  to  Holkar,  what  will  you,  his  tvidow,  do  ?" 

"Oh  !  "  said  she,  shuddering,  "spare  me,  spare  me  ! " 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  you  will  do.  You  will  have  the  pleasure 
of  dying  along  with  him — of  being  roasted,  madam  :  an  agonizing 
death,  from  which  your  father  cannot  save  you,  to  which  he  will 
be  the  first  man  to  condemn  and  conduct  you.  Ha  !  I  see  we 
understand  each  other,  and  you  will  give  me  over  the  cash-box 
and  jewels."  And  so  saying  I  threw  myself  back  with  the  calm- 
est air  imaginable,  flinging  the  pistols  over  to  her.  "  Light  me 
a  pipe,  my  love,"  said  I,  "and  then  go  and  hand  me  over  the 
dollars  ;  do  you  hear  ?  "  You  see  I  had  her  in  my  power — up 
a  tree,  as  the  Americans  say,  and  she  very  humbly  lighted  my 
pipe  for  me,  and  then  departed  for  the  goods  I  spoke  about. 

What  a  thing  is  luck  !  If  Loll  Mahommed  had  not  been 
made  to  take  that  ride  round  the  camp,  I  should  infallibly  have 
been  lost. 

My  supper,  my  quarrel  with  the  princess,  and  my  pipe  after- 
wards, had  occupied  a  couple  of  hours  of  my  time.  The  prin- 
cess returned  from  her  quest,  and  brought  with  her  the  box, 
containing  valuables  to  the  amount  of  about  three  millions 
sterling.  (I  was  cheated  of  them  afterwards,  but  have  the  box 
still,  a  plain  deal  one.)  I  was  just  about  to  take  my  departure, 
when  a  tremendous  knocking,  shouting,  and  screaming  was 
heard  at  the  entrance  of  the  tent.  It  was  Holkar  himself, 
accompanied  by  that  cursed  Loll  Mahommed,  who,  after  his 
punishment,  found  his  master  restored  to  good-humor,  and  had 
communicated  to  him  his  firm  conviction  that  I  was  an  im- 
postor. 

"  Ho,  Begum  !  "  shouted  he,  in  the  ante-room  (for  he  and 
his  people  could  not  enter  the  women's  apartments),  "  speak, 
O  my  daughter  !  is  your  husband  returned  ?  " 

"  Speak,  madam,"  said  I,  "  or  remember  the  roasting^ 

"  He  is,  papa,"  said  the  Begum. 

"  Are  you  sure  .''  Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  "  (the  old  ruffian  was  laugh- 
ing outside) — "  are  you  sure  it  is  ? — Ha  !  aha  ! — he-e-c .'"' 

"  Indeed  it  is  he,  and  no  other.  I  pray  you,  father,  to  go, 
and  to  pass  no  more  such  shameless  jests  on  your  daughter. 
Have  I  ever  seen  the  face  of  any  other  man  ?  "  And  hereat 
she  began  to  weep  as  if  her  heart  would  break — the  deceitful 
minx  ! 

Holkar's  laugh  was  instantly  turned  to  fury.  "  Oh,  you  liaf 
and  eternal  thief !  "  said  he,  turning  round  (as  I  presume,  iot 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  187 

I  could  only  hear)  to  Loll  Mahommed,  *'  to  make  your  prince 
eat  such  monstrous  dirt  as  this !  Furoshes,  seize  this  man.  I 
dismiss  him  from  my  service,  I  degrade  him  from  his  rank,  I 
appropriate  to  myself  all  his  property :  and  hark  ye,  furoshes, 

GIVE  HIM  A  HUNDRED  DOZEN  MORE  !  " 

Again  I  heard  the  whacks  of  the  b?.mboos,  and  peace  flowed 
into  my  soul. 

^  TT  W  TT  TP 

Just  as  morn  began  to  break,  two  figures  were  seen  to  ap- 
proach the  little  fortress  of  Futtyghur :  one  was  a  woman  wrap- 
ped closely  in  a  veil,  the  other  a  warrior,  remarkable  for  the 
size  and  manly  beauty  of  his  form,  who  carried  in  his  hand  a 
deal  box  of  considerable  size.  The  warrior  at  the  gate  gave 
the  word  and  was  admitted,  the  woman  returned  slowly  to  the 
Indian  camp.  Her  name  was  Puttee  Rooge  ;  his  was — 
G.  O'G.  G.,  M.  H.  E.  I.  C.  S.,  C.  I.  H.  A. 


Chapter  VI. 

FAMINE   IN  THE   GARRISON. 


Thus  my  dangers  for  the  night  being  overcome,  I  hastened 
with  my  precious  box  into  my  own  apartment,  which  communi- 
cated with  another,  where  I  had  left  my  prisoner,  with  a  guard 
to  report  if  he  should  recover,  and  to  prevent  his  escape.  My 
servant,  Ghorumsaug,  was  one  of  the  guard.  I  called  him,  and 
the  fellow  came,  looking  very  much  confused  and  frightened,  as 
it  seemed,  at  my  appearance. 

"  Why,  Ghorumsaug,"  said  I,  "  what  makes  thee  look  so 
pale,  fellow  ?  "  (He  was  as  white  as  a  sheet.)  "  It  is  thy  mas- 
ter, dost  thou  not  remember  him  ? "  The  man  had  seen  me 
dress  myself  in  the  Titan's  clothes,  but  was  not  present  when 
I  had  blacked  my  face  and  beard  in  the  manner  I  have  de- 
scribed. 

"  O  Bramah,  Vishnu,  and  Mahomet ! "  cried  the  faithful 
fellow,  "  and  do  I  see  my  dear  master  disguised  in  this  way  .■* 
For  heaven's  sake  let  me  rid  you  of  this  odious  black  paint  ; 
for  what  will  the  ladies  say  in  the  ball-room,  if  the  beautiful 
Feringhee  should  appear  amongst  them  with  his  roses  turned 
into  coal ? " 


|88  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

I  am  still  one  of  the  finest  men  in  Europe,  and  at  the  time 
of  which  I  write,  when  only  two-and-twenty,  I  confess  I  was  a 
little  vain  of  my  personal  appearance,  and  not  very  willing  to 
appear  before  my  dear  Belinda  disguised  like  a  blackamoor.  I 
allowed  Ghorumsaug  to  divest  me  of  the  heathenish  armor  and 
habiliments  which  I  wore ;  and  having,  with  a  world  of  scrub- 
bing and  trouble,  divested  my  face  and  beard  of  their  black 
tinge,  I  put  on  my  own  becoming  uniform,  and  hastened  to  wait 
on  the  ladies ;  hastened,  I  say, — although  delayed  would  have 
been  the  better  word,  for  the  operation  of  bleaching  lasted  at 
least  two  hours. 

"  How  is  the  prisoner,  Ghorumsaug  ?  "  said  I,  before  leaving 
my  apartment. 

"  He  has  recovered  from  the  blow  which  the  Lion  dealt 
him  ;  two  men  and  myself  watch  over  him  ;  and  Macgillicuddy 
Sahib  (the  second  in  command)  has  just  been  the  rounds,  and 
has  seen  that  all  was  secure." 

I  bade  Ghorumsaug  help  me  to  put  away  my  chest  of  treas- 
ure (my  exultation  in  taking  it  was  so  great  that  I  could  not 
help  informing  him  of  its  contents)  ;  and  this  done,  I  de- 
spatched him  to  his  post  near  the  prisoner,  while  I  prepared  to 
sally  forth  and  pay  my  respects  to  the  fair  creatures  under  my 
protection.  "  What  good  after  all  have  I  done,"  thought  I  to 
myself,  "  in  this  expedition  which  I  had  so  rashly  undertaken  .''  " 
I  had  seen  the  renowned  Holkar,  I  had  been  in  the  heart  of 
his  camp  ;  I  knew  the  disposition  of  his  troops,  that  there 
were  eleven  thousand  of  them,  and  that  he  only  waited  for  his 
guns  to  make  a  regular  attack  on  the  fort.  I  had  seen  Puttee 
Rooge  ;  I  had  robbed  her  (I  say  robbed  her,  and  I  don't  care 
what  the  reader  or  any  other  man  may  think  of  the  act,)  of  a 
deal  box,  containing  jewels  to  the  amount  of  three  millions 
sterling,  the  property  of  herself  and  husband. 

Three  millions  in  money  and  jewels !  And  what  the  deuce 
were  money  and  jewels  to  me  or  to  my  poor  garrison  ?  Could 
my  adorable  Miss  Bulcher  eat  a  fricassee  of  diamonds,  or, 
Cleopatra-like,  melt  down  pearls  to  her  tea  ?  Could  I,  careless 
as  I  am  about  food,  with  a  stomach  that  would  digest  anything 
— (once,  in  Spain,  I  ate  the  leg  of  a  horse  during  a  famine,  and 
was  so  eager  to  swallow  this  morsel  that  I  bolted  the  shoe,  as 
well  as  the  hoof,  and  never  felt  the  slightest  inconvenience  from 
either), — could  I,  I  say,  expect  to  live  long  and  well  upon  a 
ragout  of  rupees,  or  a  dish  of  stewed  emeralds  and  rubies  "i 
With  all  the  wealth  of  Croesus  before  me  I  felt  melancholy ,~ 
and  would  have  paid  cheerfully  its  weight  in  carats  for  a  good 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN.  I  go 

honest  round  of  boiled  beef.  Wealth,  wealth,  what  art  thou  ? 
What  is  gold  ? — Soft  metal.  What  are  diamonds  ? — Shining 
tinsel.  The  great  wealth-winners,  the  only  fame-achievers,  the 
sole  objects  worthy  of  a  soldier's  consideration,  are  beefsteaks, 
gunpowder,  and  cold  iron. 

The  two  latter  means  of  competency  we  possessed ;  I  had 
in  my  own  apartments  a  small  store  of  gunpowder  (keeping  it 
under  my  own  bed,  with  a  candle  burning  for  fear  of  accidents)  ; 
I  had  14  pieces  of  artillery  (4  long  48's  and  4  carronades,  5 
howitzers,  and  a  long  brass  mortar,  for  grape,  which  I  had  taken 
myself  at  the  battle  of  Assaye),  and  muskets  for  ten  times  my 
force.  My  garrison,  as  I  have  told  the  reader  in  a  previous 
number,  consisted  of  40  men,  two  chaplains,  and  a  surgeon  ; 
add  to  these  my  guests,  ^-x,  in  number,  of  whom  nine  only  were 
gentlemen  (in  tights,  powder,  pigtails,  and  silk  stockings,  who 
had  come  out  merely  for  a  dance,  and  found  themselves  in  for 
a  siege).     Such  were  our  numbers  : — 

Troops  and  artillerymen    ..*.....  40 

Ladies 74 

Other  non-combatants II 

Major-Gen.  O'G.  Gahagan 1,000 

I  count  myself  good  for  a  thousand,  for  so  I  was  regularly 
rated  in  the  army :  with  this  great  benefit  to  it,  that  I  only  con- 
sumed as  much  as  an  ordinary  mortal.  We  were  then,  as  far 
as  the  victuals  went,  126  mouths  ;  as  combatants  we  numbered 
1,040  gallant  men,  with  12  guns  and  a  fort,  against  Holkar  and 
his  12,000.     No  such  alarming  odds,  if — 

If ! — ay,  there  was  the  rub — ^we  had  shot,  as  well  as  powder 
for  our  guns  ;  //"we  had  not  only  7nen  but  meat.  Of  the  former 
commodity  we  had  only  three  rounds  for  each  piece.  Of  the 
latter,  upon  my  sacred  honor,  to  feed  126  souls,  we  had  but 

Two  drumsticks  of  fowls,  and  a  bone  of  ham. 

Fourteen  bottles  of  ginger-beer. 

Of  soda-water,  four  ditto. 

Two  bottles  of  fine  Spanish  olives. 

Raspberry  cream — the  remainder  of  two  dishes. 

Seven  macaroons,  lying  in  the  puddle  of  a  demolished  trifle. 

Half  a  drum  of  best  Turkey  figs. 

Some  bits  of  broken  bread;  two  Dutch  cheeses  (whole);  the  crust  of  an  old 

Stilton  ;  and  about  an  ounce  of  almonds  and  raisins. 
Three  ham-sandwiches,  and  a  pot  of  currant-jelly,  and  197  bottles  of  brandy,  rum, 

madeira,  pale  ale  (my  private  stock) ;  a  couple  of  hard  eggs  for  a  salad,  and 

a  flask  of  Florence  oil. 

This  was  the  provision  for  the  whole  garrison !     The  men 

13 


igo 


HE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 


after  supper  had  seized  upon  the  relics  of  the  repast,  as  they 
were  carried  off  from  the  table  ;  and  these  were  the  miserable 
remnants  I  found  and  counted  on  my  return,  taking  good  care 
to  lock  the  door  of  the  supper-room,  and  treasure  what  little 
sustenance  still  remained  in  it. 

When  I  appeared  in  the  saloon,  now  lighted  up  by  the  morn- 
ing sun,  I  not  only  caused  a  sensation  myself,  but  felt  one  in  mj 
own  bosom,  which  was  of  the  most  painful  description.  Oh,  my 
reader  !  may  you  never  behold  such  a  sight  as  that  which  pre- 
sented itself  :  eighty-three  men  and  women  in  ball-dresses  ;  the 
former  with  their  lank  powdered  locks  streaming  over  their 
faces ;  the  latter  with  faded  flowers,  uncurled  wigs,  smudged 
rouge,  blear  eyes,  draggling  feathers,  rumpled  satins — each 
more  desperately  melancholy  and  hideous  than  the  other — each, 
except  my  beloved  Belinda  Bulcher,  whose  raven  ringlets  never 
having  been  in  curl  could  of  course  never  go  out  of  curl ;  whose 
cheek,  pale  as  the  lily,  could,  as  it  may  naturally  be  supposed, 
grow  no  paler  ;  whose  neck  and  beauteous  arms,  dazzling  as 
alabaster,  needed  no  pearl-powder,  and  therefore,  as  I  need  not 
state,  did  not  suffer  because  the  pearl-powder  had  come  off. 
Joy  (deft  link-boy !)  lit  his  lamps  in  each  of  her  eyes  as  I 
entered.  As  if  I  had  been  her  sun,  her  spring,  lo !  blushing 
roses  mantled  in  her  cheek !  Seventy-three  ladies,  as  I  entered, 
opened  their  fire  upon  me,  and  stunned  me  with  cross-ques- 
tions, regarding  my  adventures  in  the  camp — she,  as  she  saw  me, 
gave  a  faint  scream,  (the  sweetest,  sure,  that  ever  gurgled 
through  the  throat  of  a  woman  !)  then  started  up — then  made 
as  if  she  would  sit  down — then  moved  backwards — then  tottered 
forwards  —  then  tumbled  into  my  —  Psha  !  why  recall,  why 
attempt  to  describe  that  delicious — that  passionate  greeting  of 
two  young  hearts  ?  What  was  the  surrounding  crowd  to  ^is  ? 
What  cared  we  for  the  sneers  of  the  men,  the  titters  of  the 
jealous  women,  the  shrill  "  Upon  my  word !  "  of  the  elder  Miss 
Bulcher,  and  the  loud  expostulations  of  Belinda's  mamma? 
The  brave  girl  loved  me,  and  wept  in  my  arms.  "  Goliah  i  my 
Goliah  !  "  said  she,  "  my  brave,  my  beautiful,  thou  art  returned, 
and  hope  comes  back  with  thee.  Oh  !  who  can  tell  the  anguish 
of  my  soul,  during  this  dreadful,  dreadful  night !  "  Other  similar 
ejaculations  of  love  and  joy  she  uttered  ;  and  if  I  had  perilled 
life  in  her  service,  if  I  did  believe  that  hope  of  escape  there 
was  none,  so  exquisite  was  the  moment  of  our  meeting,  that  I 
forgot  all  else  in  this  overwhelming  joy  ! 

"Jr  TT  TV  -ff  t(" 

[The  Major's  description  of  this  meeting,  which  lasted  at 


OF  MA  JOR  GAHA  CAN.  I  o  I 

the  very  most  not  ten  seconds,  occupies  thirteen  pages  of  writ- 
ing. We  have  been  compelled  to  dock  off  twelve-and-.a-half ; 
for  the  whole  passage,  though  highly  creditable  to  his  feelings, 
might  possibly  be  tedious  to  the  reader.] 

•Jr  ^  -T^  Tf  ^ 

As  I  said,  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  inclined  to  sneer, 
and  were  giggling  audibly.  I  led  the  dear  girl  to  a  chair,  and, 
scowling  round  with  a  tremendous  fierceness,  which  those  who 
know  me  know  I  can  sometimes  put  on,  I  shouted  out,  "  Hark 
ye  !  men  and  women — I  am  this  lady's  truest  knight — her  hus- 
band I  hope  one  day  to  be.  I  am  commander,  too,  in  this  fort 
— the  enemy  is  without  it ;  another  w^ord  of  mockery — another 
glance  of  scorn — and,  by  heaven,  I  will  hurl  every  man  and 
woman  from  the  battlements,  a  prey  to  the  ruffianly  Holkar  !  " 
This  quieted  them.  I  am  a  man  of  my  word,  and  none  of  them 
stirred  or  looked  disrespectfully  from  that  moment. 

It  was  now  77iy  turn  to  make  them  look  foolish.  Mrs.  Vande- 
gobbleschroy  (whose  unfailing  appetite  is  pretty  well  known  to 
every  person  who  has  been  in  India)  cried,  "  Well,  Captain 
Gahagan,  your  ball  has  been  pleasant,  and  the  supper  was  de- 
spatched so  long  ago,  that  myself  and  the  ladies  would  be  very 
glad  of  a  little  breakfast."  And  Mrs.  Van  giggled  as  if  she 
had  made  a  very  witty  and  reasonable  speech.  "  Oh  !  break- 
fast by  all  means,"  said  the  rest ;  "  we  really  are  dying  for  a 
warm  cup  of  tea." 

"Is  it  bohay  tay  or  souchong  tay  that  you'd  like,  ladies  ?" 
says  I. 

"  Nonsense,  you  silly  man  ;  any  tea  you  like,"  said  fat  Mrs. 
Van. 

"  What  do  you  say,  then,  to  some  prime  gunpowder  ?  "  Of 
course  they  said  it  was  the  very  thing. 

"  And  do  you  like  hot  rowls  or  cowld — muffins  or  crumpets 
— fresh  butter  or  salt?  And  you,  gentlemen,  what  do  you  say 
to  some  ilegant  divvled-kidneys  for  yourselves,  and  just  a  trifle 
of  grilled  turkeys,  and  a  couple  of  hundthred  new-laid  eggs 
for  the  ladies  ?  " 

"Pooh,  pooh  !  be  it  as  you  will,  my  dear  fellow,"  answered 
they  all. 

"  But  stop,"  says  I.  "  O  ladies,  O  ladies  :  O  gentlemen, 
gentlemen,  that  you  should  ever  have  come  to  the  quarters  of 
Goliah  Gahagan,  and  he  been  without — " 

"  What  ?  "  said  they,  in  a  breath. 

"  Alas  !  alas  !  I  have  not  got  a  single  stick  of  chocolate  in 
the  whole  house," 


I02  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

"Well,  well,  we  can  do  without  it." 

"  Or  a  single  pound  of  coffee." 

"  Never  mind ;  let  that  pass  too."  (Mrs.  Van  and  the  rest 
were  beginning  to  look  alarmed.) 

"And  about  the  kidneys — now  I  remember,  the  black  div- 
vies outside  the  fort  have  seized  upon  all  the  sheep  ;  and  how 
are  we  to  have  kidneys  without  them  ?  "  (Here  there  was  a 
slight  o — o — o  !) 

"  And  with  regard  to  the  milk  and  crame,  it  may  be  remarked 
that  the  cows  are  likewise  in  pawn,  and  not  a  single  drop  can 
be  had  for  money  or  love  :  but  we  can  beat  up  eggs,  you  know, 
in  the  tay,  which  will  be  just  as  good." 

"  Oh  !  just  as  good." 

"  Only  the  divvle's  in  the  luck,  there's  not  a  fresh  egg  to  be 
had — no,  nor  a  fresh  chicken,"  continued  I,  "  nor  a  stale  one 
either  ;  nor  a  tayspoonful  of  souchong,  nor  a  thimbleful  of  bo- 
hay  ;  nor  the  laste  taste  in  life  of  butther,  salt  or  fresh  ;  nor 
hot  rowls  or  cowld  !  " 

"  In  the  name  of  heaven  ! "  said  Mrs.  Van,  growing  very 
pale,  "  what  is  there,  then  ? " 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I'll  tell  you  what  there  is  now,* 
shouted  I.     "  There's 

"  Two  drumsticks  of  fowls,  and  a  bone  of  ham. 
Fourteen  bottles  of  ginger-beer/'  &c.,  &c.,  &c. 

And  I  went  through  the  whole  list  of  eatables  as  before,  end- 
ing with  the  ham-sandwiches  and  the  pot  of  jelly. 

"  Law  !  ]\Ir.  Gahagan,"  said  Mrs.  Colonel  Vandegobble- 
schroy,  "  give  me  the  ham-sandwiches — I  must  manage  to  break- 
fast off  them." 

And  you  should  have  heard  the  pretty  to-do  there  was  at 
this  modest  proposition  !  Of  course  I  did  not  accede  to  it — ■ 
why  should  It  I  was  the  commander  of  the  fort,  and  intended 
to  keep  these  three  very  sandwiches  for  the  use  of  myself  and 
my  dear  Belinda.  "  Ladies,"  said  I,  "  there  are  in  this  fort  one 
hundred  and  twenty-six  souls,  and  this  is  all  the  food  which  is 
to  last  us  during  the  siege.  Meat  there  is  none — of  drink  there 
is  a  tolerable  quantity ;  and  at  one  o'clock  punctually,  a  glass 
of  wine  and  one  olive  shall  be  served  out  to  each  woman  :  the 
men  will  receive  two  glasses,  and  an  olive  and  a  fig — and  this 
must  be  your  food  during  the  siege.  Lord  Lake  cannot  be  ab- 
sent more  than  three  days  ;  and  if  he  be — why,  still  there  is  a 
chance — why  do  I  say  a  chance  ? — a  certainty  of  escaping  from 
the  hands  of  these  ruffians." 


OF  MAJOR  G  A  HAG  AN.  193 

**  Oh,  name  it,  name  it,  dear  Captain  Gahagan  !  "  screeched 

the  whole  covey  at  a  breath. 

"It  lies,"  answered  I,  "in  \\\q.  pow  derma gazine.  I  will  blow 
this  fort,  and  all  it  contains,  to  atoms,  ere  it  becomes  the  prey 
of  Holkar." 

The  women,  at  this,  raised  a  squeal  that  might  have  been 
heard  in  Holkar's  camp,  and  fainted  in  different  directions  ; 
but  my  dear  Belinda  whispered  in  my  ear,  "  Well  done,  thou 
noble  knight !  bravely  said,  my  heart's  Goliah  ! "  I  felt  I  was 
right :  I  could  have  blown  her  up  twenty  times  for  the  luxury 
of  that  single  moment !  "  And  now,  ladies,"  said  I,  "  I  must 
leave  you.  The  two  chaplains  will  remain  with  you  to  administer 
professional  consolation — the  other  gentlemen  will  follow  me 
up  stairs  to  the  ramparts,  where  I  shall  find  plenty  of  work  for 
tliem." 


Chapter  VII. 

THE     ESCAPE. 

Loth  as  they  were,  these  gentlemen  had  nothing  for  it  but 
to  obey,  and  they  accordingly  followed  me  to  the  ramparts, 
where  I  proceeded  to  review  my  men.  The  fort,  in  my  ab- 
sence, had  been  left  in  command  of  Lieutenant  Macgillicuddy, 
a  countryman  of  my  own  (with  whom,  as  may  be  seen  in  an 
early  chapter  of  my  memoirs,  I  had  an  affair  of  honor) ;  and 
the  prisoner  Bobbachy  Bahawder,  whom  I  had  only  stunned, 
never  wishing  to  kill  him,  had  been  left  in  charge  of  that  officer. 
Three  of  the  garrison  (one  of  them  a  man  of  the  Ahmednuggar 
Irregulars,' my  own  body-servant,  Ghorumsaug  above  named,) 
were  appointed  to  watch  the  captive  by  turns,  and  never  leave 
him  out  of  their  sight.  The  lieutenant  was  instructed  to  look 
to  them  and  to  their  prisoner,  and  as  Bobbachy  was  severely 
injured  by  the  blow  which  I  had  given  him,  and  was,  moreover, 
bound  hand  and  foot,  and  gagged  smartly  with  cords,  I  con- 
sidered myself  sure  of  his  person, 

Macgillicuddy  did  not  make  his  appearance  when  I  reviewed 
my  little  force,  and  the  three  havildars  were  likewise  absent : 
this  did  not  surprise  me,  as  I  had  told  them  not  to  leave  their 
prisoner ;    but  desirous  to  speak  with  the  lieutenant,   I  de» 


394 


THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 


spatched  a  messenger  to  him,  and  ordered  him  to  appear  im- 
mediately. 

The  messenger  came  back  ;  he  was  looking  ghastly  pale  x 
he  whispered  some  information  into  my  ear,  which  instantly 
caused  me  to  hasten  to  the  apartments  where  I  had  caused 
Bobbachy  Bahawder  to  be  confined. 

The  men  had  fled ; — Bobbachy  had  fled  ;  and  in  his  place, 
fancy  my  astonishment  when  I  found — with  a  rope  cutting  his 
naturally  wide  mouth  almost  into  his  ears — with  a  dreadful 
sabre-cut  across  his  forehead — with  his  legs  tied  over  his  head, 
and  his  anns  tied  between  his  legs — ray  unliappy^  my  attached 
friend — Mortimer  Macgillicuddy  T 

He  had  been  in  this  position  for  abcmt  three  hours — it  was 
the  very  position  in  which  I  had  caused  Bobbachy  Bahawder  to 
be  jDlaced — an  attitude  unconifortable,  it  is  true,  but  one  which 
lenders  escape  unixjssible,  unless  treason  aid  the  prisoner. 

I  restored  the  lieutenant  to  his  natural  erect  position  :  I 
poured  half  a  bottle  of  whiskey  down  the  immensely  enlarged 
orifice  of  his  mouth,  and  when  he  had  been  released,,  he  irsr 
formed  me  of  the  circumstances  that  had  taken  place. 

Fool  that  I  was  I  idiot  1 — upon  my  return  to  the  fort,  to  have 
been  anxious  about  my  personal  appearance,  and  to  have  spent 
a  couple  of  hours  in  removing  the  artificial  blackening  from  my 
beard  and  complexion,  instead  of  going  to  examine  my  prisoneir 
— when  his  escape  would  have  been  prevented.  O  foppery, 
foppery  ! — it  wis  that  cursed  love  of  personal  appearance  which 
had  led  me  to  forget  my  duty  to  my  general,  my  couEtrj',  my 
monarch,  and  my  own  honor  I 

Thus  it  was  that  the  escape  took  place : — My  own  fellow  of 
the  Irregulars,  whoni  I  had  summoned  to  dress  me,  performed 
the  operation  to  my  satisfaction,  invested  me  with  the  elegant 
uniform  of  my  corps,  and  removed  the  Pitan's  disguise,  which 
I  had  taken  from  the  back  of  the  prostrate  Bobbachy  Bahawder. 
What  did  the  rogue  do  next  ? — Why,  he  carried  back  the  dress 
to  the  Bobbachy — he  put  it,  once  more,  on  its  right  owner  ;  he 
and  his  infernal  black  companions  (who  had  been  won  over  by 
the  Bobbachy  with  promises  of  enormous  reward)  gagged 
Macgillicuddy,  ^\ho  was  going  the  rounds,  and  then  marched 
with  the  Indian  coolly  up  to  the  outer  gate,  and  gave  the  word. 
The  sentinel,  thinking  it  was  myself  who  had  first  come  in,  and 
was  as  likely  to  go  out  again— (indeed  my  rascally  valet  said 
that  Gahagan  Sahib  was  about  to  go  out  with  him  and  his  two 
companions  to  recormoitre.) — opened  the  gates,  and  off  they 
went  I 


OF  MAJOR  G  A  HAG  AN.  155 

This  accounted  for  the  confusion  of  my  valet  when  1 
entered  ! — and  for  the  scoundrel's  speech,  that  the  lieutenant 
had  just  been  the  rounds  ; — he  had,  poor  fellow,  and  had  been 
seized  and  bound  in  this  cruel  way.  The  three  men,  with  their 
liberated  prisoner,  had  just  been  on  the  point  of  escape,  Avhen 
my  arrival  disconcerted  them  :  I  had  changed  the  guard  at  the 
gate  (whom  they  had  won  over  likewise)  ;  and  yet,  although  they 
had  overcome  poor  Mac,  and  although  they  were  ready  for  the 
start,  they  had  positively  no  means  for  effecting  their  escape, 
until  I  was  ass  enough  to  put  means  in  their  way.  Fool !  fool  1 
thrice  besotted  fool  that  I  was,  to  think  of  my  own  silly  person 
when  I  should  have  been  occupied  solely  with  my  public  duty. 

From  Macgillicuddy's  incoherent  accounts,  as  he  v>?as  gasp- 
ing from  the  effects  of  the  gag  and  the  whiskey  he  had  taken 
to  revive  him,  and  from  my  own  subsequent  observations,  I 
learned  this  sad  story.  A  sudden  and  painful  thought  struck 
me — my  precious  box  ! — I  rushed  back,  I  found  that  box — I 
have  it  still.  Opening  it,  there,  where  I  had  left  ingots,  sacks 
of  bright  tomauns,  kopeks  and  rupees,  strings  of  diamonds  as 
big  as  ducks'  eggs,  rubies  as  red  as  the  lips  of  my  Belinda, 
countless  strings  of  pearls,  amethysts,  emeralds,  piles  upon 
piles  of  bank-notes — I  found — a  piece  of  paper !  with  a  few 
lines  in  the  Sanscrit  language,  which  are  thus,  word  for  word, 
translated  : — 

"  EPIGRAM. 
"  ( On  disappointijig  a  certain  Major.) 

**  The  conquering  lion  return'd  with  his  prey, 

And  safe  in  liis  cavern  he  set  it, 

The  sly  little  fox  stole  the  booty  away  ; 

And  as  he  escaped,  to  the  lion  did  say, 
*  Aha  .'  don't  you  wish  you  may  get  it  ? '  " 

Confusion  !  Oh,  how  my  blood  boiled  as  I  read  these  cut 
ting  lines.  I  stamped, — I  swore, — I  don't  know  to  what  insane 
lengths  my  rage  might  have  carried  me,  had  not  at  this  moment 
a  soldier  rushed  in,  screaming,  "  The  enemy,  the  enemy  !  " 


X9d  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 


Chapier  VIII. 

THE     CAPTIVE. 

It  was  high  time,  indeed,  that  I  should  make  my  appearance. 
Waving  my  sword  with  one  hand  and  seizing  my  telescope  with 
the  other,  I  at  once  frightened  and  examined  the  enemy.  Well 
they  knew  when  they  saw  that  flamingo  plume  floating  in  the 
breeze — that  awful  figure  standing  in  the  breach — that  waving 
war-sword  sparkling  in  the  sky — well,  I  say,  they  knew  the 
name  of  the  humble  individual  who  owned  the  sword,  the 
plume,  and  the  figure.  The  ruffians  were  mustered  in  front, 
the  cavalry  behind.  The  flags  were  flying,  the  drums,  gongs, 
tambourines,  violoncellos,  and  other  instruments  of  Eastern 
music,  raised  in  the  air  a  strange,  barbaric  melody  ;  the  officers 
(yatabals),  mounted  on  white  dromedaries,  were  seen  galloping 
to  and  fro,  carrying  to  the  advancing  hosts  the  orders  of  Holkar. 

You  see  that  two  sides  of  the  fort  of  Futtyghur  (rising  as  it 
does  on  a  roch  that  is  almost  perpendicular)  are  defended  by 
the  Burrumpooter  river,  two  hundred  feet  deep  at  this  point, 
and  a  thousand  yards  wide,  so  that  I  had  no  fear  about  them 
attacking  me  in  that  quarter.  My  guns,  therefore  (with  their 
six  and  thirty  miserable  charges  of  shot)  were  dragged  round 
to  the  jDoint  at  which  I  conceived  Holkar  would  be  most  likely 
to  attack  me.  I  was  in  a  situation  that  I  did  not  dare  to  fire, 
except  at  such  times  as  I  could  kill  a  hundred  men  by  a  single 
discharge  of  a  cannon ;  so  the  attacking  party  marched  and 
marched,  very  strongly,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  off,  the  ele- 
phants marching  without  receiving  the  slightest  damage  from  us, 
until  they  had  come  to  within  four  hundred  yards  of  our  walls 
(the  rogues  knew  all  the  secrets  of  our  weakness,  through  the 
betrayal  of  the  dastardly  Ghorumsaug,  or  they  never  would 
have  ventured  so  near).  At  that  distance — it  was  about  the 
spot  where  the  Futtyghur  hill  began  gradually  to  rise — the 
invading  force  stopped ;  the  elephants  drew  up  in  a  line,  at 
right  angles  with  our  wall  (the  fools  !  they  thought  they  should 
expose  themselves  too  much  by  taking  a  position  to  it)  ;  the 
cavalry  halted  too,  and — after  the  deuce's  own  flourish  of 
trumpets  and  banging  of  gongs,  to  be  sure, — somebody,  in  a 
flame-colored  satin  dress,  with  an  immense  jewel  blazing  in  his 
pugree  (that  looked  through  my  telescope  like  a  small  but  very 


OF  MAJOR  G  A  HAG  A  AT. 


197 


bright  planet),  got  wp  from  the  back  of  one  of  the  very  biggest 
elephants,  and  began  a  speech. 

The  elephants  were,  as  I  said,  in  a  line  formed  with  admi- 
rable percision,  about  three  hundred  of  them.  The  following 
little  diagram  will  explain  matters  : — 


G' 


JB 


If 

E  is  the  line  of  elephants,     F  is  the  wall  of  the  fort.     G  a  gun 
in  the  fort.     Now  the  reader  will  see  what  I  did. 

The  elephants  were  standing,  their  trunks  waggling  to  and 
fro  gracefully  before  them  ;  and  I,  with  superhuman  skill  and 
activity,  brought  the  gun  G  (a  devilish  long  brass  gun)  to  bear 
upon  them.  I  pointed  it  myself  ;  bang  !  it  went,  and  what  was 
the  consequence  ?     Why,  this  : — 


G 
P 


F  is  the  fort,  as  before.  E,  the  elephants,  as  we  have  previ- 
ously seen  them.  What  then  is  X  ?  X  is  the  H?ie  taken  by 
the  hall  fires  from  C,  which  took  off  cme  hundred  a?id  thirtyfionr 
elephants''  trunks,  and  only  spent  itself  in  the  tusk  of  a  very  old 
animal,  that  stood  the  hundred  and  thirty-fifth  ! 

I  say  that  such  a  shot  was  never  fired  before  or  since  ;  thai 
a  gun  was  never  pointed  in  such  a  way.  Suppose  I  had  been 
a  common  man,  and  contented  myself  with  firing  bang  at  the 
head  of  the  first  animal  "i  An  ass  would  have  done  it,  prided 
himself  had  he  hit  his  mark,  and  what  would  have  been  the 
consequence  ?  Why,  that  the  ball  might  have  killed  two  ele- 
phants and  wounded  a  third  ;  but  here,  probably,  it  would  have 
stopped,  and  done  no  further  mischief.  The  trunk  was  the 
place  at  which  to'  aim  ;  there  are  no  bones  there  ;  and  away, 
consequently,  went  the  bullet,  shearing,  as  I  have  said,  through 


1 98  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

one  hundred  and  thirty  five  probosces.  Heavens  !  what  a  howl 
there  was  when  the  shot  took  effect  1  What  a  sudden  stoppage 
of  Holkar's  speech  !  What  a  hideous  snorting  of  elephants  ? 
What  a  rush  backwards  was  made  by  the  whole  army,  as  if 
some  demon  was  pursuing  them  ! 

Away  they  went.  No  sooner  did  I  see  them  in  full  retreat, 
than,  rushing  forward  myself,  I  shouted  to  my  men,  "  My 
friends,  yonder  lies  your  dinner  !  "  We  flung  open  the  gates — ■ 
we  tore  down  to  tlie  spot  where  the  elephants  had  fallen  :  seven 
of  them  were  killed  ;  and  of  those  that  escaped  to  die  of  their 
hideous  wounds  elsewhere,  most  had  left  their  trunks  behind 
them.  A  great  quantity  of  them  were  seized  ;  and  I  myself, 
cutting  up  with  my  scimitar  a  couple  of  the  fallen  animals,  as 
a  butcher  would  a  calf,  motioned  to  the  men  to  take  the  pieces 
back  to  the  fort,  where  barbacued  elephant  was  served  round 
for  dinner  instead  of  the  miserable  allowance  of  an  olive  and  a 
glass  of  wine,  which  I  had  promised  to  my  female  friends,  in 
my  speech  to  them.  The  animal  reserved  for  the  ladies  was  a 
young  white  one — the  fattest  and  tenderest  I  ever  ate  in  my 
life  :  they  are  very  fair  eating,  but  the  flesh  has  an  india-rubber 
flavor,  which  until  one  is  accustomed  to  it,  is  unpalatable. 

It  was  well  that  I  had  obtained  this  supply,  for,  during  my 
absence  upon  the  works,  Mrs.  Vandegobbleschroy  and  one  or 
two  others  had  forced  their  way  into  the  supper-room,  and 
devoured  every  morsel  of  the  garrison  larder,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  cheeses,  the  olives,  and  the  wine,  which  were  locked 
up  in  my  own  apartment,  before  which  stood  a  sentinel.  Dis- 
gusting Mrs.  Van  !  When  I  heard  of  her  gluttony,  I  had  al- 
most a  mind  to  eat  her.  However,  we  made  a  very  comfortable 
dinner  off  the  barbacued  steaks,  and  when  everybody  had  done, 
had  the  comfort  of  knowing  that  there  was  enough  for  one 
meal  more. 

The  next  day,  as  I  expected,  the  enemy  attacked  us  in 
great  force,  attempting  to  escalade  the  fort ;  but  by  the  help  of 
my  guns,  and  my  good  sword,  by  the  distinguished  bravery  of 
Lieutenant  Macgillicuddy  and  the  rest  of  the  garrison,  we  beat 
this  attack  off  completely,  the  enemy  sustaining  a  loss  of  seven 
hundred  men.  We  were  victorious  ;  but  when  another  attack 
was  made,  what  were  we  to  do .''  We  had  still  a  little  powder 
left;  but  had  fired  off  all  the  shot,  stones,  iron-bars,  &c.,  in  the 
garrison  !  On  this  day,  too,  we  devoured  the  last  morsel  of  our 
food  :  I  shall  never  forget  Mrs.  Vandegobbleschroy's  despair- 
ing look,  as  I  saw  her  sitting  alone,  attempting  to  make  some 
impression  or  the  little  white  elephant's  roasted  tail. 


t)F  MAJOR  G  A  HAG  an:  I^ 

The  third  day  the  attack  was  repeated.  The  resources  of 
genius  are  never  at  an  end.  Yesterday  I  had  no  ammunition  j 
to  day,  I  discovered  charges  sufhcient  for  two  guns,  and  two 
swivels,  which  were  much  longer,  but  had  bores  of  about  blun« 
derbuss  size. 

This  time  my  friend  Loll  Mahoramed,  who  had  received,  as 
the  reader  may  remember,  such  a  bastinadoing  for  my  sake, 
headed  the  attack.  The  poor  wretch  could  not  walk,  but  he 
was  carried  in  an  open  palanquin,  and  came  on  waving  his 
sword,  and  cursing  horribly  in  his  Hindustan  jargon.  Behind 
him  came  troops  of  matchlock-men,  who  picked  off  every  one 
of  our  men  who  showed  their  noses  above  the  ramparts  :  and 
a  great  host  of  blackamoors  with  scaling-ladders,  bundles  to 
fill  the  ditch,  fascines,  gabions,  culverins,  demi-lunes,  counter- 
scarps, and  all  the  other  appurtenances  of  offensive  war. 

On  they  came :  my  guns  and  men  were  ready  for  them. 
You  will  ask  how  many  pieces  were  loaded  ?  I  answer,  that 
though  my  garrison  were  without  food,  I  knew  my  duty  as  an 
officer — and  Jiad pu.t  the  two  Dutch  cheeses  into  tJie  two  guns,  and 
had  crammed  the  contents  of  a  bottle  of  olives  into  each  swivd. 

They  advanced, — whish  \  went  one  of  the  Dutch  cheeses, 
bang  I  went  the  other.  Alas  !  they  did  little  execution.  In 
their  first  contact  with  an  opposing  body,  they  certainly  floored 
it ;  but  they  became  at  once  like  so  much  Welsh-rabbit,  and  did 
no  execution  beyond  the  man  whom  they  struck  down. 

"  Hogree,  pogree,  wongree-fum  (praise  to  Allah  and  the 
forty-nine  Imaums ! ) "  shouted  out  the  ferocious  Loll  Ma- 
hommed  when  he  saw  the  failure  of  my  shot.  "  Onward,  sons 
of  the  Prophet !  the  infidel  has  no  more  ammunition.  A  hun- 
dred thousand  lacs  of  rupees  to  the  man  who  brings  me 
Gahagan's  head !  " 

His  men  set  up  a  shout,  and  rushed  forward — he,  to  do  him 
justice,  was  at  the  very  head,  urging  on  his  own  palanquin- 
bearers,  and  poking  them  with  the  tip  of  his  scimitar.  They 
came  panting  up  the  hill :  I  was  black  with  rage,  but  it  was  the 
cold,  concentrated  rage  of  despair.  "  Macgillicuddy,"  said  I, 
calling  that  faithful  officer,  "you  know  where  the  barrels  of 
powder  are  ?  He  did.  "  You  know  the  use  to  make  of  them  ?  " 
He  did.  He  grasped  my  hand.  "  Goliah,"  said  he,  "  fare- 
well !  I  swear  that  the  fort  shall  be  in  atoms,  as  soon  as 
yonder  unbelievers  have  carried  it.  Oh,  my  poor  mother !  " 
added  the  gallant  youth,  as  sighing,  yet  fearless,  he  retired  to 
his  post. 

I  gave  one  thought  to  my  blessed,  my  beautiful  Belinda,  and 


200  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

then,  stepping  into  the  front,  took  down  one  of  the  swivels ;— » 
a  shower  of  matchlock  balls  came  whizzing  round  my  head.  1 
did  not  heed  them. 

I  took  the  swivel,  and  aimed  coolly.  Loll  Mahommed,  his 
palanquin,  and  his  men,  were  now  not  above  two  hundred  yards 
I  from  the  fort.  Loll  was  straight  before  me,  gesticulating  and 
shouting  to  his  men.     I  fired — bang  !  !  ! 

I  aimed  so  true,  that  one  hundred  and  seiienteen  best  Spanish 
olives  tvere  lodged  in  a  lump  in  the  face  of  the  unhappy  Loll 
Mahommed.  The  wretch,  uttering  a  yell  the  most  hideous  and 
unearthly  I  ever  heard,  fell  back  dead ;  the  frightened  bearers 
flung  down  the  palanquin  and  ran — the  whole  host  ran  as  one 
man  :  their  screams  might  be  heard  for  leagues.  "  Tomasha, 
tomasha,"  they  cried,  ^'  it  is  enchantment  1 "  Away  they  fled, 
and  the  vis-tory  a  third  time  was  ours.  Soon  as  the  fight  was 
done,  I  flew  back  to  my  Belinda.  We  had  eaten  nothing  for 
twenty-four  hours,  but  I  forgot  hunger  in  the  thought  of  once 
more  beholding  her! 

The  sweet  soul  turned  towards  me  with  a  sickly  smile  as  I 
entered,  and  almost  fainted  in  my  arms  ;  but  alas  !  it  was  not 
love  which  caused  in  her  bosom  an  emotion  so  strong — it  was 
hunger  !  "  Oh  !  my  Goliah,"  whispered  she,  "  for  three  days  I 
have  not  tasted  food — I  could  not  eat  that  horrid  elephant  yes- 
terday ;  but  now — oh  1  heaven  I  *  *  *  "  She  could  say  no  more, 
but  sank  almost  lifeless  on  my  shoulder.  I  administered  to  her 
a  trifling  dram  of  rum,  which  revived  her  for  a  moment,  and 
then  rushed  down  stairs,  determined  that  if  it  were  a  piece  of 
my  own  leg,  she  should  still  have  something  to  satisfy  her 
hunger.  Luckily  I  remembered  that  three  or  four  elephants 
were  still  lying  in  the  field,  having  been  killed  by  us  in  the  first 
action,  two  days  before.  Necessity,  thought  I,  has  no  law  ;  ray 
adorable  girl  must  eat  elephant,  until  she  can  get  something 
better. 

I  rushed  into  the  court  where  the  men  were,  for  the  most 
part,  assembled.  "  Men,"  said  I,  "  our  larder  is  empty  ;  we 
must  fill  it  as  we  did  the  day  before  yesterday.  Who  will 
follow  Gahagan  on  a  foraging  part}^  ?  "  I  expected  that,  as  on 
former  occasions,  every  man  would  offer  to  accompany  me. 

To  my  astonishment  not  a  soul  moved — a  murmur  arose 
among  the  troops ;  and  at  last  one  of  the  oldest  and  bravest 
came  forward. 

"  Captain,"  he  said,  "  it  is  of  no  use  ;  we  cannot  feed  upon 
elephants  forever;  we  have  not  a  grain  of  powder  left,  and 
must  give  up  the  fort  when  the  attack  is  made  to-morrow.     We 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAJSr.  20X 

may  as  well   be  prisoners   now  as   then,  and  we  won't  go 

elephant-hunting  any  more," 

"  Ruffian  !  "  I  said,  "  he  who  first  talks  of  surrender,  dies  ! " 
and  I  cut  him  down.  "  Is  there  any  one  else  who  wishes  to 
speak  ?  " 

No  one  stirred. 

"  Cowards  !  miserable  cowards !  "  shouted  I ;  "  what,  you 
dare  not  move  for  fear  of  death,  at  the  hands  of  those  wretches 
who  even  now  fled  before  your  arms — what,  do  I  say  your 
arms? — before  mine! — alone  I  did  it;  and  as  alone  I  routed 
the  foe,  alone  I  will  victual  the  fortress !  Ho !  open  the 
gate!" 

I  rushed  out ;  not  a  single  man  would  follow.  The  bodies 
of  the  elephants  that  we  had  killed  still  lay  on  the  ground 
where  they  had  fallen,  about  four  hundred  yards  from  the  fort. 
I  descended  calmly  the  hill,  a  very  steep  one,  and  coming  to 
the  spot,  took  my  pick  of  the  animals,  choosing  a  tolerably 
small  and  plump  one,  of  about  thirteen  feet  high,  which  the 
vultures  had  respected.  I  threw  this  animal  over  my  shoulders, 
and  made  for  the  fort. 

As  I  marched  up  the  acclivity,  whizz — piff — whirr !  came 
the  balls  over  my  head ;  and  pitter-patter,  pitter-patter !  they 
fell  on  the  body  of  the  elephant  like  drops  of  rain.  The  enemy 
were  behind  me  ;  I  knew  it  and  quickened  my  pace.  I  heard 
the  gallop  of  their  horse  :  they  came  nearer,  nearer ;  I  was 
within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  fort — seventy — fifty  !  I  strained 
every  nerve  ;  1  panted  with  the  superhuman  exertion — I  ran — • 
could  a  man  run  very  fast  with  such  a  tremendous  weight  on 
his  shoulders  ? 

:  Up  came  the  enemy  ;  fifty  horsemen  were  shouting  and 
screaming  at  my  tail,  O  heaven !  five  yards  more — one 
moment — and  I  am  saved !  It  is  done — I  strain  the  last  strain 
■ — I  make  the  last  step — I  fling  forward  my  precious  burden 
into  the  gate  opened  wide  to  receive  me  and  it,  and — I  fall ! 
The  gate  thunders  to,  and  I  am  left  on  the  outside!  Fifty 
knives  are  gleaming  before  my  bloodshot  eyes — fifty  black 
hands  are  at  my  throat,  when  a  voice  exclaims,  "  Stop  ! — kill 
him  not,  it  is  Gujputi !  "  A  film  came  over  my  eyes— exhaust^ 
ed  nature  would  bear  no  more. 


202  THE  TREMENDOUS^  ADVENTURES 

Chapter  IX. 

SURPRISE   OF   FUTTYGHUR. 

When  I  awoke  from  the  trance  into  which  I  had  fallen,  I 
found  myself  in  a  bath,  surrounded  by  innumerable  black  faces  j 
and  a  Hindoo  pothukoor  (whence  our  word  apothecary _)  feeling 
my  pulse  and  lookuig  at  me  with  an  air  of  sagacity. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  I  exclauned,  looking  round  and  examining 
the  strange  faces,  and  the  strange  apartment  which  met  my 
view.  "  Bekhusm  !  "  said  the  apothecary.  "  Silence  !  Gaha- 
gan  Sahib  is  in  the  hands  of  those  who  know  his  valor,  and  will 
save  his  life." 

"  Know  my  valor,  slave  ?     Of  course  you  do,"  said  I ;  "  but 

the  fort — the  garrison — the  elephant — Belinda,  my  love — my 

darling — Macgillicuddy — the  scoundrelly  mutineers — the  deal 
|-jQ *  *  *  *  " 

I  could  say  no  more ;  the  painful  recollections  pressed  so 
heavily  upon  my  poor  shattered  mind  and  frame,  that  both 
failed  once  more.  1  fainted  again,  and  I  know  not  how  long  I 
lay  insensible. 

"  Again,  however,  I  came  to  my  senses  :  the  pothukoor  ap- 
plied restoratives,  and  after  a  slumber  of  some  hours  I  awoke, 
much  refreshed.  I  had  no  wound ;  my  repeated  swoons  had 
been  brought  on  (as  indeed  well  they  might)  by  my  gigantic 
efforts  in  carrying  the  elephant  up  a  steep  hill  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  in  length.  Walking,  the  task  is  bad  enough  ;  but  running, 
it  is  the  deuce  ;  and  I  would  recommend  any  of  my  readers  who 
may  be  disposed  to  try  and  carry  a  dead  elephant,  never,  on 
any  account,  to  go  a  pace  of  more  than  five  miles  an  hour. 

Scarcely  was  I  awake,  when  I  heard  the  clash  of  arms  at 
my  door  (plainly  indicating  that  sentinels  were  posted  there), 
and  a  single  old  gentleman,  richly  habited,  entered  the  room. 
Did  my  eyes  deceive  me  1  I  had  surely  seen  him  before.  No 
• — yes — no — yes — it  zvas  he  :  the  snowy  white  beard,  the  mild 
eyes,  the  nose  flattened  to  a  jelly,  and  level  with  the  rest  of  the 
venerable  face,  proclaimed  him  at  once  to  be — Saadut  Alee  Beg 
Bimbukchee,  Ilolkar's  prime  vizier;  whose  nose,  as  the  reader 
may  recollect,  his  highness  had  flattened  with  his  kaleawn  dur- 
ing my  interview  with  him  in  the  Pitan's  disguise.  I  now  knew 
my  fate  but  too  well — I  was  in  the  hands  of  Holkar. 


OF  MA  JOR  GAIT  A  GAI^.  2  03 

Saadut  Alea  Beg  Bimbukchee  slowly  advanced  towards  me, 
and  with  a  mild  air  of  benevolence,  which  distinguished  that 
excellent  man  (he  was  torn  to  pieces  by  wild  horses  the  year 
after,  on  account  of  a  difference  with  Holkar),  he  came  to  my 
bedside,  and  taking  gently  my  hand,  said,  "  Life  and  death,  my 
son,  are  not  ours.  Strength  is  deceitful,  valor  is  unavailing, 
fame  is  only  wind — the  nightingale  sings  of  the  rose  all  night — 
where  is  the  rose  in  the  morning  ?  Booch,  booch  !  it  is  withered 
by  a  frost.  The  rose  makes  remarks  regarding  the  nightingale, 
and  where  is  that  delightful  song-bird  ?  Pena-bekhoda,  he  is 
netted,  plucked,  spitted,  and  roasted  !  Who  knows  how  mis- 
fortune comes  ?     It  has  come  to  Gahagan  Gujputi !  " 

"  It  is  well,"  said  I,  stoutly,  and  in  the  Malay  language. 
"Gahagan  Gujputi  will  bear  it  like  a  man." 

"  No  doubt — like  a  wise  man  and  a  brave  one  ;  but  there  is 
no  lane  so  long  to  which  there  is  not  a  turning,  no  night  so 
black  to  which  there  comes  not  a  morning.  Icy  winter  is  fol- 
lowed by  merry  spring-time — grief  is  often  succeeded  by  joy." 

"Interpret,  O  riddler!"  said  I;  "Gahagan  Khan  is  no 
reader  of  puzzles — no  prating  mollah.  Gujputi  loves  not  words. 
but  swords." 

"  Listen,  then,  O  Gujputi :  you  are  in  Holkar's  joower." 

"  I  know  it." 

"  You  will  die  by  the  most  horrible  tortures  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  I  dare  say." 

"  They  will  tear  your  teeth  from  your  jaws,  your  nails  from 
your  fingers,  and  your  eyes  from  your  head." 

"  Very  possibly." 

"They  will  flay  you  alive,  and  then  burn  you." 

"  Well ;  they  can't  do  any  more." 

"They  will  seize  upon  every  man  and  woman  in  yonder 
fort," — it  was  not  then  taken! — "and  repeat  upon  them  the 
same  tortures." 

"  Ha  !  Belinda  !     Speak — how  can  all  this  be  avoided  ?  " 

"  Listen.     Gahagan  loves  the  moon-face  called  Belinda." 

"  He  does.  Vizier,  to  distraction." 

"  Of  what  rank  is  he  in  the  Koompani's  army  ?  " 

"A  captain." 

"A  miserable  captain — oh,  shame!     Of  what  creed  is  he?" 

"  1  am  an  Irishman,  and  a  Catholic." 

"  But  he  has  not  been  very  particular  about  his  religious 
duties  ? " 

"  Alas,  no." 


104  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

*'  He  has  not  been  to  his  mosque  for  these  twelve  years  ?  ** 

"  'Tis  too  true." 

"  Hearken  now,  Gahagan  Khan.  His  Highness  Prince 
Holkar  has  sent  me  to  thee.  You  shall  have  the  moon-face 
for  your  wife — your  second  wife,  that  is ; — the  first  shall  be  the 
incomparable  Puttee  Rooge,  who  loves  you  to  madness  ; — with 
Puttee  Rooge,  who  is  the  wife,  you  shall  have  the  wealth  and 
rank  of  Bobbachy  Bahawder,  of  whom  his  Highness  intends 
to  get  rid.  You  shall  be  second  in  command  of  his  Highness's 
forces.  Look,  here  is  his  commission  signed  with  the  celestial 
seal,  and  attested  by  the  sacred  names  of  the  forty-nine  Imaums. 
You  have  but  to  renounce  your  religion  and  your  service,  and 
all  these  rewards  are  yours." 

He  produced  a  parchment,  signed  as  he  said,  and  gave  it 
to  me  (it  was  beautifully  written  in  Indian  ink  :  I  had  it  for 
fourteen  years,  but  a  rascally  valet,  seeing  it  very  dirty,  washed 
it,  forsooth,  and  washed  off  every  bit  of  the  writing).  I  took 
it  calmly,  and  said,  "  This  is  a  tempting  offer.  O  Vizier,  how 
long  wilt  thou  give  me  to  consider  of  it  ?  " 

After  a  long  parley,  he  allowed  me  six  hours,  when  I  prom- 
ised to  give  him  an  answer.  My  mind,  however,  was  made  up 
— as  soon  as  he  was  gone,  I  threw  myself  on  the  sofa  and  fell 
asleep. 


At  the  end  of  the  six  hours  the  Vizier  came  back  :  two 
people  were  with  him  ;  one,  by  his  martial  appearance,  I  knew 
to  be  Holkar,  the  other  I  did  not  recognize.  It  was  about 
midnight. 

"Have  you  considered?"  said  the  Vizier,  as  he  came  to 
my  couch. 

"I  have,"  said  I,  sitting  up, — I  could  not  stand,  for  my  legs 
were  tied,  and  my  arms  fixed  in  a  neat  pair  of  steel  handcuffs. 
"  I  have,"  said  I,  "  unbelieving  dogs  !  I  have.  Do  you  think 
to  pervert  a  Christian  gentleman  from  his  faith  and  honor  ? 
Ruffian  blackamoors  !  do  your  worst ;  heap  tortures  on  this 
body,  they  cannot  last  long.  Tear  me  to  pieces  :  after  you 
have  torn  me  into  a  certain  number  of  pieces,  I  shall  not  feel 
it ;  and  if  I  did,  if  each  torture  could  last  a  life,  if  each  limb 
were  to  feel  the  agonies  of  a  whole  body,  what  then  t  I  would 
bear  all — all — all — all — all — all  ! "  My  breast  heaved — my 
form  dilated — my  eye  flashed  as  I  spoke  these  words.  "  Ty« 
rants ! "  said  I,  "  dulce  et  decorum  est  pro  patria  mori." 
Having  thus  clinched  the  argument,  I  was  silent. 


OF  MAJOR  G  AH  AG  AN.  20$ 

The  venerable  Grand  Vizier  turned  away ;  I  saw  a  tear 
trickling  down  his  cheeks. 

'•  wliat  a  constancy,"  said  he.  "  Oh,  that  such  beauty  and 
such  bravery  should  be  doomed  so  soon  to  quit  the  earth  !  " 

His  tall  companion  only  sneered  and  said,  "  And  Belinda 
?  " 

"  Ha  ! "  said  I,  ''  ruffian,  be  still ! — heaven  will  protect  her 
spotless  innocence.  Holkar,  I  know  thee,  and  thou  knowest 
me  too !  Who,  with  his  single  sword,  destroyed  thy  armies  ? 
Who,  with  his  pistol,  cleft  in  twain  thy  nose-ring?  Who  slew 
thy  generals  ?  Who  slew  thy  elephants  ?  Three  hundred 
mighty  beasts  went  forth  to  battle :  of  these  /  slew  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty-five  !  Dog,  coward,  ruffian,  tyrant,  unbeliever ! 
Gahagan  hates  thee,  spurns  thee,  spits  on  thee  ! " 

Holkar,  as  I  made  these  uncomplimentary  remarks,  gave  a 
scream  of  rage,  and,  drawing  his  scimitar,  rushed  on  to  despatch 
me  at  once  (it  was  the  very  thing  I  wished  for),  when  the  third 
person  sprang  forward,  and  seizing  his  arm,  cried  — 

"  Papa  !  oh,  save  him  !  "  It  was  Puttee  Rooge  !  "  Re- 
member," continued  she,  "  his  misfortunes — remember,  oh, 
remember  my — love  !  " — and  here  she  blushed,  and  putting  one 
finger  into  her  mouth,  and  hanging  down  her  head,  looked  the 
very  picture  of  modest  affection. 

Holkar  sulkily  sheathed  his  scimitar,  and  muttered,  "  'Tis 
better  as  it  is  ;  had  I  killed  him  now,  I  had  spared  him  the 
torture.  None  of  this  shameless  fooling,  Puttee  Rooge,"  con- 
tinued the  tyrant,  dragging  her  away.  "  Captain  Gahagan  dies 
three  hours  from  hence."  Puttee  Rooge  gave  one  scream  and 
fainted — her  father  and  the  Vizier  carried  her  off  between  them ; 
nor  was  I  loth  to  part  with  her,  for,  with  all  her  love,  she  was 
as  ugly  as  the  deuce. 

They  were  gone — my  fate  was  decided.     I  had  but  three 

hours  more  of  life  :  so  I  flung  myself  again  on  the  sofa,  and 

fell  profoundly  asleep.     As  it  may  happen  to  any  of  my  readers 

Xo  be  in  the  same  situation,  and  to  be  hanged  themselves,  let 

me  earnestly  entreat  them  to  adopt  this  plan  of  going  to  sleep, 

which  I  for  my  part  have  repeatedly  found  to  be  successful. 

It  saves  unnecessary  annoyance,  it  passes  away  a  great  deal  of 

unpleasant  time,  and  it  prepares  one  to  meet  like  a  man  the 

coming  catastrophe. 

a;  *  *  *  * 

Three  o'clock  came;  the  sun  was  at  this  time  .making  his 
appearance  in  the  heavens,  and  with  it  came  the  guards,  who  were 
appointed  to  conduct  me  to  the  torture.     I  woke,  rose,  was 

14 


2o6  THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES 

carried  out,  and  was  set  on  the  very  white  donkey  on  which 
Loll  Mahommed  was  conducted  through  the  camp  after  he  was 
bastinadoed.  Bobbachy  Bahawder  rode  behind  me,  restored 
to  his  rank  and  state ;  troops  of  cavalry  hemmed  us  in  on  all 
sides  ;  my  ass  was  conducted  by  the  common  erecutioner  :  a 
crier  went  forward,  shouting  out,  "  Make  way  for  the  destroyer 
of  the  faithful — he  goes  to  bear  the  punishment  of  his  crimes." 
We  came  to  the  fatal  plain  :  it  was  the  very  spot  whence  I  had 
borne  away  the  elephant,  and  in  full  sight  of  the  fort.  I  looked 
towards  it.  Thank  heaven  !  King  George's  banner  waved  on 
it  still — a  crowd  were  gathered  on  the  walls — the  men,  the  das- 
tards who  had  deserted  me — and  women,  too.  Among  the 
latter  I  thought  I  distinguished  one  who — O  gods  !  the  thought 
turned  me  sick — I  trembled  and  looked  pale  for  the  first  time. 

"  He  trembles !  he  turns  pale,"  shouted  out  Bobbachy 
Bahawder,  ferociously  exulting  over  his  conquered  enemy. 

"Dog!"  shouted  I — (I  was  sitting  with  my  head  to  the 
donkey's  tail,  and  so  looked  the  Bobbachy  full  in  the  face) — 
*'  not  so  pale  as  you  looked  when  I  felled  you  Avith  this  arm — 
not  so  pale  as  your  women  looked  when  I  entered  your  harem  !  " 
Completely  chop-fallen,  the  Indian  ruffian  was  silent  :  at  any 
rate,  I  had  done  for  Jiim. 

We  arrived  at  the  place  of  execution.  A  stake,  a  couple  of 
feet  thick  and  eight  high,  was  driven  in  the  grass  :  round  the 
stake,  about  seven  feet  from  the  ground,  was  an  iron  ring,  to 
which  were  attached  two  fetters  ;  in  these  my  wrists  were 
placed.  Two  or  three  executioners  stood  near,  with  strange- 
looking  instruments  :  others  were  blowing  at  a  fire,  over  which 
was  a  cauldron,  and  in  the  embers  were  stuck  other  prongs  and 
instrument  of  iron. 

The  crier  came  forward  and  read  my  sentence.  It  was  the 
same  in  effect  as  that  which  had  been  hinted  to  me  the  day 
previous  by  the  Grand  Vizier.  I  confess  I  was  too  agitated  to 
catch  every  word  that  was  spoken. 

Holkar  himself,  on  a  tall  dromedray,  was  at  a  little  distance. 
The  Grand  Vizier  came  up  to  me — it  was  his  duty  to  stand  by, 
and  see  the  punishment  performed.     "  It  is  yet  time  1  "  said  he. 

I  nodded  my  head,  but  did  not  answer. 

The  Vizier  cast  up  to  heaven  a  look  of  inexpressible  an- 
guish, and  with  a  voice  choking  with  emotion,  said,  ^''Execu- 
tioner— do — your — duty  !" 

The  horrid  man  advanced — he  whispered  sulkily  in  the 
ears  of  the  Grand  Vizier,  "  Gnggly  ka  gheejium  khcdgeree^^^  said 
he,  '■''the  oil  does  not  hoi!  yet — wait  one  minute."     The  assistants 


OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAI^.  207> 

blew,  Ihe  fire  blazed,  the  oil  was  heated.     The  Vizier  drew  j» 

few  feet  aside  :  taking  a  large  ladle  full  of  the  boiling  liquid, 

he  advanced — 

***** 

***** 

"  Whish  !  bang,  bang  !  pop  !  "  the  exrcutioner  was  dead  at 
my  feet,  shot  through  the  head  j  the  ladle  of  scalding  oil  had 
'been  dashed  in  the  face  of  the  unhappy  Grand  Vizier,  who  lay 
on  the  plain,  howling.  *'  Whish  !  bang  !  pop  !  Hurrah  ! — for- 
wards ! — cut  them  down  ! — no  quarter  !  " 

I  saw — yes,  no,  yes  no,  yes  ! — I  saw  regiment  upon  regiment 
of  galloping  British  horsemen  riding  over  the  ranks  of  the  flying 
natives.  First  of  the  host,  I  recognized,  O  heaven  !  my  Ah- 
MEDNUGGAR  IRREGULARS  !  On  Came  the  gallant  line  of  black 
steeds  and  horsemen  ;  swift,  swift  before  them  rode  my  officers 
in  yellow — Glogger,    Pappendick,    and  Stuffle ;   their  sabres 

gleamed  in   the  sun,  their  voices  rung  in  the  air.     "D 

them  !  "  they  cried,  "  give  it  them,  boys  !  "  A  strength  super- 
natural thrilled  through  my  veins  at  that  delicious  music  :  by 
one  tremendous  effort,  I  wrested  the  post  from  its  foundation, 
five  feet  in  the  ground.  I  could  not  release  my  hands  from  the 
fetters,  it  is  true  ;  but,  grasping  the  beam  tightly,  I  sprung  for- 
ward— with  one  blow  I  levelled  the  five  executioners  in  the 
midst  of  the  fire,  their  fall  upsetting  the  scalding  oil-can  ;  with 
the  next,  I  swept  the  bearers  of  Bobbachy's  palankin  off  their 
legs ;  with  the  third,  I  caught  that  chief  himself  in  the  small  of 
the  back,  and  sent  him  flying  on  to  the  sabres  of  my  advancing 
soldiers  !  " 

The  next  minute,  Glogger  and  Stuffle  were  in  my  arms, 
Pappendick  leading  on  the  Irregulars.  Friend  and  foe  in  that 
wild  chase  had  swept  far  away.  We  were  alone  ;  I  wa^ freed 
from  my  immense  bar  ;  and  ten  minutes  afterwards,  when  Lord 
Lake  trotted  up  with  his  staff,  he  found  me  sitting  on  it. 

"  Look  at  Gahagan,"  said  his  lordship.  "Gentlemen,  did 
I  not  tell  you  we  should  be  sure  to  find  him  at  his  post  t  " 

The  gallant  old  nobleman  rode  on  :  and  this  was  the  famous 

BATTLE  OF  FURRUCKABAD,  OR  SURPRISE   OF  FUTTYGHUR,  fought 

on  the  17th  of  November,  1804. 

*♦♦**** 

About  a  month  afterwards,  the  following  announcement  ap- 
peared in  the  Bogglcywollah  Htirkarru  and  other  Indian  papers  : 
— "  Married,  on  the  25th  of  December,  at  Futtyghur,  by  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Snorter,  Captain  Goliah  O'Grady  Gahagan,  Com- 
manding Irregular  Horse,  Ahmednuggar,  to  Belinda,  second 


2o8     TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF  MAJOR  GAHAGAN, 

daughter  of  Major-General  Bulcher,  C.  B.  His  Excellency  the 
Commander-in-Chief  gave  away  the  bride  ;  and  after  a  splen- 
did dejeuner,  the  happy  pair  set  off  to  pass  the  Mango  season 
at  Hurrygurrybang.  Venus  must  recollect,  however,  that  Mars 
must  not  always  be  at  her  side.  The  Irregulars  are  nothing 
without  their  leader." 

Such  was  the  paragraph — such  the  event — the  happiest  in 
the  existence  of  ■ 

G.  O'G.  G..  M.  H.  E.  I.  C.  S.,  C.  I.  H.  A.     ' 


LEGEND   OF  THE    RHINE. 


A  LEGEND   OF  THE  RHINE. 


Chapter  I. 

SIR    LUDWIG   OF    HOMEOURG. 

It  was  in  tlie  good  old  days  of  chivalry,  when  every  mouTH 
tain  that  bathes  its  shadow  in  the  Rhine  had  its  castle  :  not 
inhabited,  as  now,  by  a  few  rats  and  owls,  nor  covered  with 
moss  and  wallflowers,  and  funguses,  and  creeping  ivy.  No, 
no  !  where  the  ivy  now  clusters  there  grew  strong  portcullis  and 
bars  of  steel ;  where  the  wallflower  now  quivers  in  the  rampart 
there  were  silken  banners  embroidered  with  wonderful  heraldry  ; 
men-at-arms  marched  where  now  yovi  shall  only  see  a  bank  of 
moss  or  a  hideous  black  champignon  ;  and  in  jolace  of  the  rats 
and  owlets,  I  warrant  me  there  were  ladies  and  knights  to 
revel  in  the  great  halls,  and  to  feast,  and  to  dance,  and  to  make 
love  there.  They  are  passed  away  : — those  old  knights  and 
ladies  :  their  golden  hair  first  changed  to  silver,  and  then  the 
silver  dropped  oft  and  disappeared  forever ;  their  elegant 
legs,  so  slim  and  active  in  the  dance,  became  swollen  and 
gouty,  and  then,  from  being  swollen  and  gouty,  dwindled  down  to 
bare  bone-shanks  ;  the  roses  left  their  cheeks,  and  then  their 
cheeks  disappeared,  and  left  their  skulls,  and  then  their  skulls 
powdered  into  dust,  and  all  sign  of  them  was  gonp.  And  as 
it  was  with  them,  so  shall  it  be  with  us.  Ho,  seneschal !  fill 
me  a  cup  of  liquor !  put  sugar  in  it,  good  fellow — yea,  and  a 
little  hot  water ;  a  very  little,  for  my  soul  is  sad,  as  I  think  of 
those  days  and  knights  of  old. 

They,  too,  have  revelled  and  feasted,  and  where  are  they  ? 

— gone.?  —  nay,   not  altogether  gone;    for  doth   not  the  eye 

catch  glimpses  of  them  as  they  walk  yonder  in  the  gray  limbo 

of  romance,  shining  faintly  in  their  coats  of  steel,  wandering  by 

the  side  of  long-haired  ladies,  with  long-tailed  gowns  that  little 

pages  carry  ?     Yes  !  one  sees  them  ;  the  poet  sees  them  still 

(211) 


212  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

in  the  far-off  Cloudland,  and  hears  the  ring  of  their  clarions  as 
they  hasten  to  battle  or  tourney  —  and  the  dim  echoes  of 
their  lutes  chanting  of  love  and  fair  ladies  !  Gracious  priv- 
ilege of  poesy  !  It  is  as  the  Dervish's  collyrium  to  the  eyes, 
and  causes  them  to  see  treasures  that  to  the  sight  of  donkeys 
are  invisible.  Blessed  treasures  of  fancy  !  I  would  not  change 
ye — no,  not  for  many  donkey-loads  of  gold.  *  *  *  Fill  again, 
jolly  seneschal,  thou  brave  wag ;  chalk  me  up  the  produce  on 
the  hostel  door — surely  the  spirits  of  old  are  mixed  up  in 
the  wondrous  liquor,  and  gentle  visions  of  by-gone  princes  and 
princesses  look  blandly  down  on  us  from  the  cloudy  perfume 
of  the  pipe.^  Do  you  know  in  what  year  the  fairies  left  the 
Rhine  .'' — long  before  Murray's  "  Guide-Book  "  was  wrote — 
long  before  squat  steamboats,  with  snorting  funnels,  came 
paddling  down  the  stream.  Do  you  not  know  that  once  upon 
a  time  the  appearance  of  eleven  thousand  British  virgins  was 
considered  at  Cologne  as  a  wonder  ?  Now  there  come  twenty 
thousand  such  annually  accompanied  by  their  ladies'-maids. 
But  of  them  we  will  say  no  more — let  us  back  to  those  who 
went  before  them. 

Many,  many  hundred  thousand  years  ago,  and  at  the  exact 
period  when  chivalry  was  in  full  bloom,  there  occurred  a  little 
history  upon  the  banks  of  tlie  Rhine,  which  has  been  already 
written  in  a  book,  and  hence  must  be  positively  true.  'Tis  a  story 
of  knights  and  ladies — of  love  and  battle,  and  virtue  rewarded  ; 
a  story  of  princes  and  noble  lords,  moreover  :  the  best  of  com- 
pany. Gentles,  an  ye  will,  ye  shall  hear  it.  Fair  dames  and 
damsels,  may  your  loves  be  as  happy  as  those  of  the  heroine 
of  this  romaunt. 

On  the  cold  and  rainy  evening  of  Thursday,  the  26th  of 
October,  in  the  year  previously  indicated,  such  travellers  as 
might  have  chanced  to  be  abroad  in  that  bitter  night,  might 
have  remarked  a  fellow-wayfarer  journeying  on  the  road 
from  Oberwinter  to  Godesberg.  He  was  a  man  not  tall  in 
stature,  but  of  the  most  athletic  proportions,  and  Time,  which 
had  browned  and  furrowed  his  cheek  and  sprinkled  his  locks 
with  gray,  declared  pretty  clearly  that  He  must  have  been 
acquainted  with  the  warrior  for  some  fifty  good  years.  He  was 
armed  in  mail,  and  rode  a  powerful  and  active  battle-horse, 
which  (though  the  way  the  pair  had  come  that  day  was  long 
and  weary  indeed,)  yet  supported  the  warrior,  his  armor  and 
luggage,  with  seeming  ease.  As  it  was  in  a  friend's  country, 
the  knight  did  not  think  fit  to  wear  his  heavy  dcsfricr,  or 
helmet,  which  hung  at  his  saddle-bow  over  his  portmanteau. 


SIR  LUDWIG  OF  HOMBOURG. 


213 


Both  were  marked  with  the  coronet  of  a  count ;  and  from  the 
crown  which  surmounted  the  hehnet,  rose  the  crest  of  his 
knightly  race,  an  arm  proper  lifting  a  naked  sword. 

At  his  right  hand,  and  convenient  to  the  warrior's  grasp, 
hung  his  mangonel  or  mace — a  terrific  weapon  which  had  shat- 
tered the  brains  of  many  a  turbaned  soldan  ;  while  over  his 
broad  and  ample  chest  there  fell  the  triangular  shield  of  the 
period,  whereon  were  emblazoned  his  arms — argent,  a  gules 
wavy,  on  a  saltire  reversed  of  the  second  :  the  latter  device 
was  awarded  for  a  daring  exploit  before  Ascalon,  by  the  Em- 
peror Maximilian,  and  a  reference  to  the  German  Peerage  of 
that  day,  or  a  knowledge  of  high  families  which  every  gentle- 
man then  possessed,  would  have  sufficed  to  show  at  once  that 
the  rider  we  have  described  was  of  the  noble  house  of  Hom- 
bourg.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  gallant  knight  Sir  Ludwig  of  Hom- 
bourg  :  his  rank  as  a  count,  and  chamberlain  of  the  Emperor 
of  Austria,  was  marked  by 'the  cap  of  maintenance  with  the 
peacock's  feather  which  he  wore  (when  not  armed  for  battle), 
and  his  princely  blood  was  denoted  by  the  oiled  silk  umbrella 
which  he  carried  (a  very  meet  protection  against  the  pitiless 
storm),  and  which,  as  it  is  known,  in  the  middle  ages,  none  but 
princes  were  justified  in  using.  A  bag,  fastened  with  a  brazen 
padlock,  and  made  of  the  costly  produce  of  the  Persian  looms 
(then  extremely  rare  in  Europe),  told  that  he  had  travelled  in 
Eastern  climes.  This,  too,  was  evident  from  the  inscription 
writ  on  card  or  parchment,  and  sewed  on  the  bag.  It  first  ran, 
"  Count  Ludwig  de  -Hombourg,  Jerusalem  •  "  but  the  name  of 
the  Holy  City  had  been  dashed  out  with  the  pen,  and  that  of 
"  Godesberg  "  substituted.  So  far  indeed  had  the  cavalier 
travelled  ! — and  it  is  needless  to  state  that  the  bag  in  question 
contained  such  remaining  articles  of  the  toilet  as  the  high-born 
noble  deemed  unnecessary  to  place  in  his  valise. 

"  By  Saint  Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen  !  "  said  the  good 
knight,  shivering,  "  'tis  colder  here  than  at  Damascus  !  Marry, 
I  am  so  hungry  I  could  eat  one  of  Saladin's  camels.  Shall  I 
be  at  Godesberg  in  time  for  dinner  ?  ''  And  taking  out  his 
horologe  (which  hung  in  a  small  side-pocket  of  his  embroidered 
surcoat),  the  crusader  consoled  himself  by  finding  that  it  was 
but  seven  of  the  night,  and  that  he  would  reach  Godesberg  ere 
the  warder  had  sounded  the  second  gong. 

His  opinion  was  borne  out  by  the  result.  His  good  steed, 
which  could  trot  at  a  pinch  fourteen  leagues  in  the  hour, 
brought  him  to  this  famous  castle,  just  as  tiie  warder  was  giv- 
ing the  first  welcome  signal  which  told  that  the  princely  family 


214 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


of  Count  Karl,  Margrave  of  Godesberg,  were  about  to  prepare 
for  their  usual  repast  at  eight  o'clock.  Crowds  of  pages  and 
horsekeepers  were  in  the  court,  when,  the  portcullis  being  raised, 
and  amidst  the  respectful  salutes  of  the  sentinels,  the  most 
ancient  friend  of  the  house  of  Godesberg  entered  into  its  castle- 
yard.  The  under-butler  stepped  forward  to  take  his  bridle  rein. 
"  Welcome,  Sir  Count,  from  the  Holy  Land  !  "  exclaimed  the 
faithful  old  man.  "  Welcome,  Sir  Count, from  the  Holy  Land  !  " 
cried  the  rest  of  the  servants  in  the  hall.  A  stable  was  speedily 
found  for  the  Count's  horse,  Streithengst,  and  it  was  not  before 
the  gallant  soldier  had  seen  that  true  animal  well  cared  for, 
that  he  entered  the  castle  itself,  and  was  conducted  to  his  cham- 
ber. Wax-candles  burning  bright  on  the  mantel,  flowers  in 
china  vases,  every  variety  of  soap,  and  a  flask  of  the  precious 
essence  manufactured  at  the  neighboring  city  of  Cologne,  were 
displayed  on  his  toilet-table  ;  a  cheering  fire  "crackled  on  the 
liearth,"  and  showed  that  the  good  knight's  coming  had  been 
looked  and  cared  for.  The  serving-maidens,  bringing  him  hot 
water  for  his  ablutions,  smiling  asked,  "Would  he  have  his 
couch  warmed  at  eve  .''  "  One  might  have  been  sure  from  their 
blushes  that  the  tough  old  soldier  made  an  arch  reply.  The 
family  tonsor  came  to  know  whether  the  noble  Count  had  need 
of  his  skill.  "  By  Saint  Bugo,"  said  the  knight,  as  seated  in 
a.i  easy  settle  by  the  fire,  the  tonsor  rid  his  chin  of  its  stubbly 
growth,  and  lightly  passed  the  tongs  and  pomatum  through 
'•  the  sable  silver  "  of  his  hair, — "  By  Saint  Bugo,  this  is  better 
than  my  dungeon  at  Grand  Cairo.  HoW  is  my  godson  Otto, 
master  barber;  and  the  lady  countess,  his  mother;  and  the 
noble  Count  Karl,  my  dear  brother-in-arms  ?  " 

"  They  are  well,"  said  the  tonsor,  with  a  sigh. 

'  By  Saint  Bugo,  I'm  glad  on't ;  but  why  that  sigh  ?  " 

"Things  are  not  as  they  have  been  with  my  good  lord," 
answered  the  hairdresser,  "  ever  since  Count  Gottfried's 
arrival." 

"  He  here  !  "  roared  Sir  Ludwig.  "  Good  never  came 
where  Gottfried  Avas  !  "  and  the  while  he  donned  a  pair  of 
silken  hose,  that  showed  admirably  the  proportions  of  his  lower 
limbs,  and  exchanged  his  coat  of  mail  for  the  spotless  vest  and 
black  surcoat  collared  with  velvet  of  Genoa,  which  was  the 
fitting  costume  for  "knight  in  ladye's  bower," — the  knight 
entered  into  a  conversation  with  the  barber,  who  explained  to 
him,  with  the  usual  garrulousness  of  his  tribe,  what  was  the 
present  position  of  the  noble  family  of  Godesberg. 

This  will  be  narrated  in  the  next  chapter. 


THE  GODESBERGBRS.  jjg 


Chapter   II. 

THE   GODESBERGERS. 

'Tis  needless  to  state  that  the  gallant  warrior  Ludwig  of 
Hombourg  found  in  the  bosom  of  his  friend's  family  a  cordial 
welcome.  The  brother-in-arms  of  the  Margrave  Karl,  he  was 
the  esteemed  friend  of  the  Margravine,  the  exalted  and  beautiful 
Theodore  of  Boppum,  and  (albeit  no  theologian,  and  although 
the  first  princes  of  Christendom  coveted  such  an  honor,)  he  was 
selected  to  stand  as  sponsor  for  the  Margrave's  son  Otto,  the 
only  child  of  his  house. 

It  was  now  seventeen  years  since  the  Count  and  countess  had 
been  united  :  and  although  heaven  had  not  blessed  their  couch 
with  more  than  one  child,  it  may  be  said  of  that  one  that  it  was 
a  prize,  and  that  surely  never  lighted  on  the  earth  a  more 
delightful  vision.  When  Count  Ludwig,  hastening  to  the  holy 
wars,  had  quitted  his  beloved  godchild,  he  had  left  him  a  boy  ; 
he  now  found  him,  as  the  latter  rushed  into  his  arms,  grown  to 
be  one  of  the  finest  young  men  in  Germany :  tall  and  exces- 
sively graceful  in  proportion,  with  the  blush  of  health  mantling 
upon  his  cheek,  that  was  likewise  adorned  with  the  first  down 
of  manhood,  and  with  magnificent  golden  ringlets,  such  as  a 
Rowland  might  envy,  curling  over  his  brow  and  his  shoulders. 
His  eyes  alternately  beamed  with  the  fire  of  daring,  or  melted 
with  the  moist  glance  of  benevolence.  Well  might  a  mother 
be  proud  of  such  a  boy.  Well  might  the  brave  Ludwig  exclaim, 
as  he  clasped  the  youth  to  his  breast,  "  By  St,  Bugo  of  Katz- 
enellenbogen,  Otto,  thou  art  fit  to  be  one  of  Coeur  de  Lion's 
grenadiers  !  "  and  it  was  the  fact :  the  "Childe  "  of  Godesberg 
measured  six  feet  three. 

He  was  habited  for  the  evening  meal  in  the  costly,  though 
simple  attire  of  the  nobleman  of  the  period — and  his  costume 
a  good  deal  resembled  that  of  the  old  knight  whose  toilet  we 
have  just  described ;  with  the  difference  of  color,  however. 
The  poiirpoint  worn  by  young  Otto  of  Godesberg  was  of  blue, 
handsomely  decorated  with  buttons  of  carved  and  embossed 
gold  ;  his  haut-de-chausses,  or  leggings,  were  of  the  stuff  of  Nan- 
quin,  then  brought  by  the  Lombard  argosies  at  an  immense 
price  from  China,  The  neighboring  country  of  Holland  had 
supplied  his  wrists  and  bosom  with  the  most  costly  laccs  ;  and 
thus  attired,  with  an  opera-hat  placed  on  one  ride  of  his  head, 


2x6  ^  LEGE  AW  OF  THE  RHINE, 

ornamented  with  a  single  flower,  (that  brilliant  one,  the  tulip,) 
the  boy  rushed  into  his  godfather's  dressing-room,  and  warned 
him  that  the  banquet  was  ready. 

It  was  indeed  :  a  frown  had  gathered  on  the  dark  brows  of 
the  Lady  Theodora,  and  her  bosom  heaved  with  an  emotion 
akin  to  indignation  ;  for  she  feared  lest  the  soups  in  the  re- 
fectory and  the  splendid  fish  now  smoking  there  were  get- 
ting cold  :  she  feared  not  for  herself,  but  for  her  lord's  sake. 
"  Godesberg,"  whispered  she  to  Count  Ludwig,  as  trembling 
on  his  arm  they  descended  from  .the  drawing-room,  ."  Godes- 
berg  is  sadly  changed  of  late." 

"  By  St.  Bugo !  "  said  the  burly  knight,  starting,  "  these  are 
the  very  words  the  bai^ber  spake." 

The  lady  heaved  a  sigh,  and  placed  herself  before  the  soup- 
tureen.  For  somic  time  the  good  Knight  Ludwig  of  Hombourg 
was  too  much  occupied  in  ladling  out  the  forced  meat-balls  and 
rich  calves'  head,  of  which  the  delicious  pottage  was  formed  (in 
ladling  them  out,  did  we  say  ?  ay,  marry,  and  in  eating  them, 
too,)  to  look  at  his  brother-in-arms  at  the  bottom  of  the  table, 
where  he  sat  with  his  son  on  his  left  hand,  and  the  Baron  Gott- 
fried on  his  right. 

The  Margrave  was  indeed  changed.  "  Bv  St.  Bugo,"  whis- 
pered Ludwig  to  the  Countess,  "  your  husband  is  as  surly  as  a 
bear  that  hath  been  wounded  o'  the  head."  Tears  falling  into 
her  soup  plate  were  her  only  reply.  The  soup,  the  turbot,  the 
haunch  of  mutton,  Count  Ludwig  remarked  that  the  Margrave 
sent  all  away  untasted. 

"The  boteler  will  serve  ye  with  wine,  Hombourg,"  said  the 
Margrave  gloomily  from  the  end  of  the  table  :  not  even  an 
invitation  to  drink  !  how  different  was  this  from  the  old  times ! 

But  when  in  compliance  with  this  order  the  boteler  proceeded 
to  hand  round  the  mantling  vintage  of  the  Cape  to  the  assem- 
bled part}^  and  to  fill  young  Otto's  goblet  (which  the  latter 
held  up  with  the  eagerness  of  youth),  the  Margrave's  rage  knew 
no  bounds.  He  rushed  at  his  son  ;  he  dashed  the  wine-cup 
over  his  spotless  vest ;  and  giving  him  three  or  four  heavy 
blows  which  would  have  knocked  down  a  bonassus,  but  only 
caused  the  young  Childe  to  blush  :  "  You  take  wine  !  "  roared 
out  *Jie  ]\Largravc  ;  '''■you  dare  to  help  yourself  !  Who  the  d-v-1 
gave  you  leave  to  help  yourself  ?  "  and  the  terrible  blows  were 
reiterated  over  the  delicate  ears  of  the  boy. 

"  Ludwig  !  Ludwig  !  "  shrieked  the  Margravine. 

•'Hold  your  prate,  madam,"  roared  the  Prince.  "  By  St» 
Buffo,  mavn't  a  father  beat  his  own  child  ?" 


THE  GODESBERGERS.  517 

"  Hts  OWN  CHILD !  "  repeated  the  Margrave  with  a  burst, 
almost  a  shriek  of  indescribable  agony.  "  Ah,  what  did  I  pay  ?  " 

Sir  Ludwig  looked  about  him  in  amaze  ;  Sir  Gottfried  (at 
the  Margrave's  right  hand)  smiled  ghastily  ;  the  young  Otto 
was  too  much  agitated  by  the  recent  conflict  to  wear  any  ex- 
pression but  that  of  extreme  discomfiture  ;  but  the  poor  Mar- 
gravine turned  her  head  aside  and  blushed,  red  almost  as  the 
lobster  which  flanked  the  turbot  before  her. 

In  those  rude  old  times,  'tis  known  such  table  quarrels  were 
by  no  means  unusual  amongst  gallant  knights  ;  and  Ludwig, 
who  had  oft  seen  the  Margrave  cast  a  leg  of  mutton  at  an 
Offending  servitor,  or  empty  a  sauce-boat  in  the  direction  of 
the  Margravine,  thought  this  was  but  one  of  the  usual  out- 
breaks of  his  worthy  though  irascible  friend,  and  wisely  deter- 
mined to  change  the  converse. 

"  How  is  my  friend,"  said  he,  "  the  good  knight,  Sir  Hilde- 
brandt  ? " 

"  By  Saint  Buffo,  this  is  too  much  !  "  screamed  the  Margrave, 
and  actually  rushed  from  the  room. 

"  By  Saint  Bugo,"  said  his  friend,  "gallant  knights,  gentle 
sirs,  what  ails  my  good  Lord  Margrave  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  his  nose  bleeds,"  said  Gottfried,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Ah,  my  kind  friend,"  said  the  Margravine  with  uncontrol- 
lable emotion,  "  I  fear  some  of  you  have  passed  from  the  fry- 
ing-pan into  the  fire."  And  making  the  signal  of  departure  to 
the  ladies,  they  rose  and  retired  to  coffee  in  the  drawing-room. 

The  Margrave  presently  came  back  again,  somewhat  more 
collected  than  he  had  been.  "  Otto,"  he  said  sternly,  "go  join 
the  ladies  :  it  becomes  not  a  young  boy  to  remain  in  the  com- 
pany of  gallant  knights  after  dinner."  The  noble  Childe  with 
manifest  unwillingness  quitted  the  room,  and  the  Margrave, 
taking  his  lady's  place  at  the  head  of  the  table,  whispered  to 
Sir  Ludwig,  "  Hildebrandt  will  be  here  to-night  to  an  evening- 
party,  given  in  honor  of  your  return  from  Palestine.  My  good 
friend — -my  true  friend — my  old  companion  in  arms,  Sir  Gott- 
fried !  you  had  best  see  that  the  fiddlers  be  not  drunk,  and  that 
the  crumpets  be  gotten  ready."  Sir  Gottfried,  obsequiously 
taking  his  patron's  hint,  bov/ed  and  left  the  room. 

"  You  shall  know  all  soon,  dear  Ludwig,"   said  the  Mar- 
grave, with  a  heartrending  look,     "You  marked  Gottfried,  who. 
left  the  room  anon  ?  " 
"  I  did." 

"  You  look  incredulous  concerning  his  worth  ;  but  I  tell 
thee,  Ludwig,  that  yonder  Gottfried  is   a  good   fellow,  and  my 


2i8  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RJirNE. 

fast  friend.  Why  should  he  not  be  ?  He  is  my  near  relation^ 
heir  to  my  property:  should  I"  (here  the  Margrave's  counte-* 
nance  assumed  it's  former  expression  of  excruciating  agony), — > 
"  should  I  have  no  so/i." 

"But  I  never  saw  the  boy  in  better  health,"  replied  Sir 
Ludwig. 

"  Nevertheless, — ha  !  ha.! — it  may  chance  that  I  soon  shall 
have  no  son." 

The  Margrave  had  crushed  many  a  cup  of  wine  during  din- 
ner, and  Sir  Ludwig  thought  naturally  that  his  gallant  friend 
had  drunken  rather  deeply.  He  proceeded  in  this  respect  to 
imitate  him  ;  for  the  stern  soldier  of  those  days  neither  shruniP 
before  the  Paynim  nor  the  punch-bowl :  and  many  a  rousing 
night  had  our  crusader  enjoyed  in  Syria  with  lion-hearted  Rich- 
ard ;  with  his  coadjutor,  Godfrey  of  Bouillon  ;  nay,  with  the 
dauntless  Saladin  himself. 

"  You  knew  Gottfried  in  Palestine  ?  "  asked  the  Margrave. 

"I  did." 

"  Why  did  ye  not  greet  him  then,  as  ancient  comrades 
should,  with  the  warm  hands  of  friendship  ?  It  is  not  because 
Sir  Gottfried  is  poor  ?  You  know  well  that  he  is  of  a  race  as 
noble  as  thine  own,  my  early  friend !  " 

"  I  care  not  for  his  race  nor  his  poverty,"  replied  the  blunt 
crusader.  "  What  says  the  INIinnesinger  ?  '  Marry,  that  the 
rank  is  but  the  stamp  of  the  guinea;  the  man  is  the  gold.' 
And  I  tell  thee,  Karl  of  Godesberg,  that  yonder  Gottfried  is 
base  metal." 

"  By  Saint  Buffo,  thou  beliest  him,  dear  Ludwig." 

"By  Saint  Bugo,  dear  Karl,  I  say  sooth.  The  fellow  was 
known  i'  the  camp  of  the  crusaders — disreputably  known.  Ere 
he  joined  us  in  Palestine,  he  had  sojourned  in  Constantinople, 
and  learned  the  arts  of  the  Greek.  He  is  a  cogger  of  dice,  I 
tell  thee — a  chanter  of  horseflesh.  He  won  five  thousand 
marks  from  bluff  Richard  of  England  the  night  before  the 
storming  of  Ascalon,  and  I  caught  him  with  false  trumps  in  his 
pocket.  He  warranted  a  bay  mare  to  Conrad  of  Mont  Serrat, 
ariid  the  rogue  had  fired  her.' 

"  Ha  1  mean  ye  that  Sir  Gottfried  is  a  /^'g  ?  "  cried  Sir  Karl, 
knitting  his  brows.  "  Now,  by  my  blessed  patron,  Saint  Buffo 
of  Bonn,  had  any  other  but  Luclwig  of  Hombourg  so  said  I 
would  have  cloven  him  from  skull  to  chine." 

"  By  Saint  Bugo  on  Katzenellenbogen,  I  will  prove  my  words 
on  Sir  Gottfried's  body — not  on  thine,  old  brother-in-arms. 
And  to  do  the  knave  justice,  he  is  a  good  lance.     Holy  Bugo  J 


THE  FESTIVAL. 


219 


but  he  did  good  service  at  Acre  !  But  his  character  was  such 
that,  spite  of  his  bravery,  he  was  dismissed  the  army;  nor  even 
allowed  to  sell  his  captain's  commission." 

"  I  have  heard  of  it,"  said  the  Margrave  ;  *'  Gottfried  had 
told  me  of  it.  'Twas  about  some  silly  quarrel  over  the  wine- 
cup — a  mere  silly  jape,  believe  me.  Hugo  de  Brodenel  would, 
have  no  black  bottle  on  the  board.  Gottfried  was  wrath,  and 
to  say  sooth,  flung  the  black  bottle  at  the  county's  head.  Hence 
his  dismission  and  abrupt  return.  But  you  know  not,"  con- 
tinued the  Margrave,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  "  of  what  use  that 
worthy  Gottfried  has  been  to  me.  He  has  uncloaked  a  traitor 
to  me." 

"  Not  jr/,"  answered  Hombourg,  satirically. 

"  By  Saint  Buffo  !  a  deep-dyed  dastard  !  a  dangerous,  damn- 
able traitor  ! — a  nest  of  traitors.  Hildebrandt  is  a  traitor — 
Otto  is  a  traitor — and  Theodora  (O  heaven  !)  she — she  is  an- 
othet-y  The  old  Prince  burst  into  tears  at  the  word,  and  was 
almost  choked  with  emotion, 

"  What  means  this  passion,  dear  friend  ?  "  cried  Sir  Ludwig, 
seriously  alarmed. 

"  Mark,  Ludwig !  mark  Hildebrandt  and  Theodora  to- 
gether :  mark  Hildebrandt  and  Otto  together.  Like,  like  I  tell 
thee  as  two  peas.  O  holy  saints,  that  I  should  be  born  to  suffer 
this  ! — to  have  all  ray  affections  wrenched  out  of  my  bosom, 
and  to  be  left  alone  in  my  old  age  !  But,  hark  !  the  guests  are 
arriving.  An  ye  will  not  empty  another  flask  of  claret,  let  us 
join  the  ladyes  i' the  withdrawing  chamber.  When  there,  mark 
Hildebra?idt  and  Otto  f" 


Chapter  HL 
the    festivai-. 


The  festival  was  indeed  begun.  Coming  on  horseback,  of 
in  their  caroches,  knights  and  ladies  of  the  highest  rank  were 
assembled  in  the  grand  saloon  of  Godesberg,  which  was  splen- 
didly illuminated  to  receive  them.  Servitors,  in  rich  liveries, 
(they  were  attired  in  doublets  of  the  sky-blue  broad-cloth  of 
Ypres,  and  hose  of  the  richest  yellow  sammit — the  colors  of  the 
house  of  Godesberg,)  bore  about  various  refreshments  on  trays 


220  A  LEGEiVD  OF  THE  RHINE. 

of  silver — cakes,  baked  in  the  oven,  and  swimming  in  melted 
butter;  manchets  of  bread,  smeared  with  the  same  delicious 
condiment,  and  carved  so  thin  that  you  might  have  exjaected 
them  to  take  a  wing  ana  fly  to  the  ceiling  ;  coffee,  introduced 
by  Peter  the  Hermit,  after  his  excursion  into  Arabia,  and  tea 
such  as  only  Bohemia  could  produce,  circulated  amidst  the 
festive  throng,  and  were  eagerly  devoured  by  the  guests.  The 
Margrave's  gloom  was  unheeded  by  them — how  little  indeed  is 
the  smiling  crowd  aware  of  the  pangs  that  are  lurking  in  the 
breasts  of  those  who  bid  them  to  the  feast !  The  ]\Iargravine 
Was  pale ;  but  woman  knows  how  to  deceive  ;  she  was  more 
than  ordinarily  courteous  to  her  friends,  and  laughed,  though 
the  laugh  was  hollow,  and  talked,  though  the  talk  was  loath- 
some to  her. 

"The  two  are  together,"  said  the  Margrave,  clutching  his 
friend's  shoulder.     "  Now  look  !  " 

Sir  Ludwig  turned  towards  a  quadrille,  and  there,  sure 
enough,  were  Sir  Hiklebrandt  and  young  Otto  standing  side  by 
side  in  the  dance.  Two  eggs  were  not  more  like  !  The  reason 
of  the  Margrave's  horrid  suspicion  at  once  flashed  across  his 
friend's  mind. 

"  'Tis  clear  as  the  staff  of  a  pike,"  said  the  poor  Margrave, 
mournfully,  "  Come,  brother,  away  from  the  scene  ;  let  us  go 
play  a  game  at  cribbage  !  "  and  retiring  to  the  Margravine's 
lo/u/oir,  the  two  warriors  sat  down  to  the  game. 

But  though  'tis  an  interesting  one,  and  though  the  Margrave 
won,  yet  he  could  not  keep  his  attention  on  the  cards  :  so 
agitated  was  his  mind  by  the  dreadful  secret  which  weighed 
upon  it.  In  the  midst  of  their  play,  the  obsequious  Gottfried 
came  to  whisper  a  word  in  his  patron's  ear,  which  threw  the 
latter  into  such  a  fury,  (hat  apoplexy  was  apprehended  by  the 
two  lookers-on.  But  the  Margrave  mastered  his  emotion,  "  Ai 
what  time,  did  you  say  ?  "  said  he  to  Gottfried. 

"  At  daybreak,  at  the  outer  gate." 

"  I  will  be  there." 

''And  so  mini  too,''  thought  Count  Ludwig,  the  good  Knight 
©f  Hombourg. 


THE  FLIGHT.  221 


Chapter  IV. 

THE     FLIGHT. 

How  often  does  man,  proud  man,  make  calculations  for  the 
future,  and  think  he  can  bend  stern  fate  to  his  will !  Alas,  we 
are  but  creatures  in  its  hands  !  How  many  a  slip  between  the 
lip  and  the  lifted  wine-cup  !  How  often,  though  seemingly  with 
a  choice  of  couches  to  repose  upon,  do  we  find  ourselves  dashed 
to  earth;  and  then  we  are  fain  to  say  the  grapes  are  sour,  be- 
cause we  cannot  attain  them  ;  or  worse,  to  yield  to  anger  in 
consequence  of  our  own  fault.  Sir  Ludwig,  the  Hombourger, 
was  not  at  the  outer  gate  at  daybreak. 

He  slept  until  ten  of  the  clock.  The  previous  night's  pota- 
tions had  been  heavy,  the  day's  journey  had  been  long  and 
rough.  The  knight  slept  as  a  soldier  would,  to  whom  a  feather 
bed  is  a  rarity,  and  who  wakes  not  till  he  hears  the  blast  of  the 
re'veille. 

He  looked  up  as  he  woke.  At  his  bedside  sat  the  Mar- 
grave. He  had  been  there  for  hours  watching  his  slumbering 
comrade.  Watching  ? — no,  not  watching,  but  awake  by  his 
side,  brooding  over  thoughts  unutterably  bitter — over  feelings 
inexpressibly  Avretched. 

"What's  o'clock?  "  was  the  first  natural  exclamation  of  the 
Hombourger. 

"I  believe  it  is  five  o'clock,"  said  his  friend.  It  was  ten. 
It  might  have  been  twelve,  two,  half-past  four,  twenty  minutes 
to  six,  the  Margrave  would  still  have  said,  "  /  beliei'e  it  is  fiv& 
o'clock.^''  The  v>'retched  take  no  count  of  time  :  it  flies  with  un- 
equal pinions,  indeed,  for  thciri. 

"  Is  breakfast  over  ?  "  inquired  the  crusader. 

"Ask  the.  butler,"  said  the  Margrave,  nodding  his  head 
wildly,  rolling  his  eyes  wildly,  smiling  wildly. 

"  Gracious  Bugo  !  "  said  the  Knight  of  Hombourg,  "what  has 
ailed  thee,  my  friend  ?  It  is  ten  o'cfock  by  my  horologe. 
Your  regular  hour  is  nine.  You  are  not — no,  by  heavens  !  you 
are  not  shaved  !  You  wear  the  tights  and  silken  hose  of  last 
evening's  banquet.  Your  collar  is  all  rumpled — 'tis  that  of 
yesterday.  You  have  not  been  to  bed  I  What  has  chanced, 
brother  of  mine  :  what  has  chanced.^ " 


S22  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

"  A  common  chance,  Louis  of  Hombourg,"  said  the  Mar- 
grave :  "  one  that  chances  every  clay.  A  false  woman,  a  false 
friend,  a  broken  heart.  This  has  chanced.  I  have  not  been  to 
bed." 

"  What  mean  ye  ?  "  cried  Count  Ludwig,  deeply  affected. 

"  A  false  friend  ?     /  am  not  a  false  friend.     A  false  woman  ? 

Surely  the  lovely  Theodora,  your  wife " 

"I  have  no  wife,  Louis,  now;  T  have.no  wife  and  no  son," 
***** 

In  accents  broken  by  grief,  the  Margrave  explained  what 
had  occurred.  Gottfried's  information  was  but  too  correct. 
There  was  a  cause  for  the  likeness  between  Otto  and  Sir  Hilde- 
brandt :  a  fatal  cause  !  Hildebrandt  and  Theodora  had  met 
at  dawn  at  the  outer  gate.  The  Margrave  had  seen  them. 
They  walked  long  together ;  they  embraced.  Ah !  how  the 
husband's  the  father's,  feelings  were  harrowed  at  that  embrace  ! 
They  parted  ;  and  then  the  Margrave,  coming  forward,  coldly 
signified  to  his  lady  that  slie  was  to  retire  to  a  convent  for  life, 
and  gave  orders  that  the  boy  should  be  sent  too,  to  take  the 
vows  at  a  monastery. 

Both  sentences  had  been  executed.  Otto,  in  a  boat,  and 
guarded  by  a  company  of  his  father's  men-at-arms,  was  on  the 
river  going  towards  Cologne,  to  the  monastery  of  Saint  Buffo 
there.  The  Lady  Theodora,  imder  the  guard  of  Sir  Gottfried 
and  an  attendant,  were  on  their  way  to  the  convent  of  Nonnen- 
werth,  which  many  of  our  readers  have  seen — the  beautiful 
Green  Island  Convent,  laved  by  the  bright  waters  of  the 
Rhine  ! 

"  What  road  did  Gottfried  take  ? "  asked  the  Knight  of 
Hombourg,  grinding  his  teeth. 

"  You  cannot  overtake  him,"  said  the  Margrave.  "  My 
good  Gottfried,  he  is  my  only  comfort  now  :  he  is  my  kinsman, 
and  shall  be  my  lieir.     He  will  be  back  anon," 

"Will  he  so  t  "  thought  Sir  Ludwig.  ''  I  will  ask  him  a  few 
questions  ere  he  return."  And  springing  from  his  couch,  he 
began  forthwith  to  put  on  his  usual  morning  dress  of  complete 
armor  ;  and,  after  a  hasty  ablution,  donned,  not  his  cap  of 
maintenance,  but  his  helmet  of  battle.  He  rang  the  bell 
violently. 

"  A  cup  of  coffee,  straight,"  said  he,  to  the  servitor  who 
answered  the  summons  ;  "  bid  the  cook  pack  me  a  sausage  and 
bread  in  paper,  and  the  groom  saddle  Streithengst ;  we  have 
far  to  ride." 

The  various  orders  were  obeyed.     The  Jiorse  was  brought  / 


THE  TRAITOR'S  DOOM. 


223 


the  refreshments  disposed  of  ;  the  clattering  steps  of  the  depart- 
ing steed  were  heard  in  the  court-yard  ;  but  the  Margrave  took 
no  notice  of  his  friend,  and  sat,  plunged  in  silent  grief,  quite 
motionless  by  the  empty  bedside. 


Chapter  V. 

THE   traitor's    DOOM. 


The  Hombourger  led  his  horse  down  the  winding  path 
which  conducts  from  the  hill  and  castle  of  Godesberg  into  the 
Deautiful  green  plain  below.  Who  has  not  seen  that  lovely 
plain,  and  who  that  has  seen  it  has  not  loved  it  ?,  A  thousand 
sunny  vineyards  and  cornfields  stretch  around  in  peaceful 
hixuriance ;  the  mighty  Rhine  floats  by  it  in  silver  magnificence, 
and  on  the  opposite  bank  rise  the  seven  mountains  robed  in 
majestic  purple,  the  monarchs  of  the  royal  scene. 

A  pleasing  poet.  Lord  Byron,  in  describing  this  very  scene, 
has  mentioned  that  "  peasant  girls,  with  dark-blue  eyes,  and 
hands  that  ofYer  cake  and  wine,"  are  perpetually  crowding  round 
the  traveller  in  this  delicious  district,  and  proffering  to  him 
their  rustic  presents.  This  was  no  doubt  the  case  in  former 
days,  when  the  noble  bard  wrote  his  elegant  poems — in  the 
happ}^  ancient  days  !  when  maidens  were  as  yet  generous,  and 
men  kindly  !  Now  the  degenerate  peasantry  of  the  district  are 
much  more  inclined  to  ask  than  to  give,  and  their  blue  eyes 
seem  to  have  disappeared  with  their  generosity. 

But  as  it  was  a  long  time  ago  that  the  events  of  our  story 
occurred,  'tis  probable  that  the  good  Knight  Ludwig  of  Hom- 
bourg  was  greeted  upon  his  path  by  this  fascinating  peasantry ; 
though  we  know  not  how  he  accepted  their  welcome.  He 
continued  his  ride  across  the  flat  green  country  until  he  came 
to  Rolandseck,  whence  he  could  command  the  Island  of  Non- 
nenwerth  (that  lies  in  the  Rhine  opposite  that  place),  and  all 
who  went  to  it  or  passed  from  it. 

Over  the  entrance  of  a  little  cavern  in  one  of  the  rocks 
hanging  above  the  Rhine-stream  at  Rolandseck,  and  covered 
with  odoriferous  cactuses  and  silvery  magnolias,  the  traveller 
of  the  present  day  may  perceive  a  rude  broken  image  of  a 
saint:  that  image  represented  the  venerable  Saint  BuiTo  of 
Bonn,  the  patron  of  the  Margrave  ;  and  Sir  Ludwig,  kneeling 


224  ^  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

on  the  greensward,  and  reciting  a  censer,  an  ave,  and  a  couple 
of  acolytes  before  it,  felt  encouraged  to  think  that  the  deed  he 
meditated  was  about  to  be  performed  under  the  very  eyes  of 
his  friend's  sanctified  patron.  His  devotion  done  (and  the 
knight  of  those  days  was  as  pious  as  he  was  brave).  Sir 
Ludwig,  the  gallant  Kombourger,  exclaimed  with  a  loud 
voice  : — 

"  Ho  !  hermit  !  holy  hermit,  art  thou  in  thy  cell  ? " 

"  Who  calls  the  poor  servant  of  heaven  and  Saint  Bufifo  ?  '* 
exclaimed  a  voice  from  the  cavern  ;  and  presently,  from  beneath 
the  wreaths  of  geranium  and  magnolia,  appeared  an  intensely 
venerable,  ancient  and  majestic  head — 'twas  that,  we  need  not 
say,  of  Saint  Buffo's  solitary.  A  silver  beard  hanging  to  his 
knees  gave  his  person  an  appearance  of  great  respectability; 
his  body  was  robed  in  simple  brown  serge,  and  girt  with  a 
knotted  cord:  his  ancient  feet  were  only  defended  from  the 
prickles  and  stones  by  the  rudest  sandals,  and  his  bald  and 
polished  head  was  bare. 

"  Holy  hermit,"  said  the  knight,  in  a  grave  voice,  "  make 
ready  thy  ministrv,  for  there  is  some  one  about  to  die," 

"  Where,  son  ?  " 

"  Here,  father." 

"  Is  he  here,  now  ?  " 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  stout  warrior,  crossing  himself  j  "but 
not  so  if  right  prevail."  At  this  moment  he  caught  sight  of  a 
ferry-boat  putting  off  from  Nonnenwerth,  with  a  knight  on 
board.  Ludwig  knew  at  once,  by  the  sinople  reversed  and  the 
truncated  gules  on  his  surcoat,  that  it  was  Sir  Gottfried  of 
Godesberg. 

"  Be  ready,  father,"  said  the  good  knight,  pointing  towards 
the  advancing  boat  ;  and  waving  his  hand  by  Avay  of  respect  to 
the  reverend  hermit,  without  a  further  word,  he  vaulted  into 
his  saddle,  and  rode  back  for  a  few  scores  of  paces  ;  when  he 
wheeled  round  and  remained  steady.  His  great  lance  and. 
pennon  rose  in  the  air.  His  armor  glistened  in  the  sun  ;  the 
chest  and  head  of  his  battle-horse  were  similarly  covered  with 
steel.  As  Sir  Gottfried,  likewise  armed  and  mounted  (for  his 
horse  had  been  left  at  the  ferry  hard  by),  advanced  up  thq 
road,  he  almost  started  at  the  figure  before  him — a  glistening 
tower  of  steel. 

"  Are  you  the  lord  of  this  pass,  Sir  Knight  ? "  said  Sir 
Gottfried,  haughtily,  "or  do  you  hold  it  against  all  comers,  ia 
honor  of  your  lady-love  ?" 

"I  am  not  the  lord  of  this  pass.     1  do  not  hold  it  against 


THE  TRAITOR'S  DOOM. 


225 


all  comers.     I  hold  it  but  against  one,  and  he  is  a  liar  and  a 
traitor." 

"  As  the  matter  concerns  me  not,  I  pray  you  let  me  pass,'^ 
said  Gottfried, 

"  The  matter  does  concern  thee,  Gottfried  of  Godesberg. 
Liar  and  traitor  1  art  thou  coward,  too?" 

'•  Holy  Saint  Buffo!  'tis  a  fight!  "  exclaimed  the  old  hermit 
(who,  too,  had  been  a  gallant  warrior  in  his  day)  ;  and  like  the 
old  war-horse  that  hears  the  trumpet's  sound,  and  spite  of  his 
clerical  profession,  he  prepared  to  look  on  at  the  combat  with 
no  ordinary  eagerness,  and  sat  down  on  the  overhanging  ledge 
of  the  rock,  lighting  his  pipe,  and  affecting  imconcern,  but  1:1 
reality  most  deeply  interested  in  the  event  which  was  about  to 
ensue. 

As  soon  as  the  word  "coward"  had  been  pronounced  by 
Sir  Ludwig,  his  opponent,  uttering  a  curse  far  too  horrible  to 
be  inscribed  here,  had  wheeled  back  his  powerful  piebald,  and 
brought  his  lance  to  the  rest. 

"  Ha !  Beause'ant !  "  cried  he.  "  Allah  humdillah  !  "  'Twas 
the  battle-cry  in  Palestine  of  the  irresistible  Knights  Hospital- 
lers. "  Look  to  thyself.  Sir  Knight,  and  for  mercy  from  heaven  \ 
/will  give  thee  none." 

"  A  Bugo  for  Katzenellenbogen  !  "  exclaimed  Sir  Ludwig. 
piously  :  that,  too,  was  tl>e  well-known  war-cry  of  his  princely 
race. 

"  I  will  give  the  signal, '"'  said  the  old  hermit,  waving  his 
pipe,  "Knights,  are  you  ready?  One,  two,  three.  Los-!''' 
(let  go,) 

At  the  signal,  the  two  steeds  tore  up  the  ground  like  whirl- 
winds -,  the  two  knights,  two  flashing  perpendicular  masses  of 
steel,  rapidly-  converged  ;  the  two  lances  met  upon  the  two 
shields  of  either,  and  shivered,  splintered,  shattered  into  ten 
hundred  thousand  pieces,  which  whirled  through  the  air  here 
and  there,  among  the  rocks,  or  in  the  trees,  or  in  the  river. 
The  two  horses  fell  back  trembling  on  their  haunches,  where 
they  remained  for  half  a  minute  or  so, 

"Holy  Buffo!  a  brave  stroke!"  said  the  old  hermit. 
■"  Marry,  but  a  splinter  wellnigh  took  off  my  nose !  "  The 
honest  hermit  waved  his  pipe  in  delight,  not  perceiving  that  one 
of  the  splinters  had  carried  off  the  head  of  it,  and  rendered  his 
favorite  amusement  impossible.  "Ha!  they  are  to  it  again! 
O  my  !  how  they  go  to  with  their  great  swords  !  Well  stricken, 
gray!  Well  parried,  piebald  !  Ha,  that  was  a  slicer  !  Go  it, 
piebald!  go   it,   gray! — go   it,  gray  !  go   it,  pie Peccavi' 


2  26  ^  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

peccavi !  "  said  the  old  man,  here  suddenly  closing  his  eyes,  an(1 
falling  down  on  his  knees.  "  I  forgot  I  was  a  man  of  peace." 
And  the  next  moment,  muttering  a  hasty  matin,  he  sprung  down 
the  ledge  of  rock,  and  was  by  the  side  of  the  combatants. 

The  battle  was  over  Good  kni"-ht  as  Sir  Gottfried  was, 
his  strength  and  skill  had  not  been  able  to  overcome  Sir  Lud- 
wig  the  Hombourger,  with  right  on  his  side.  He  was  bleeding 
at  every  point  of  his  armor :  he  had  be  n  run  through  the  body 
several  times,  and  a  cut  in  tierce,  delivered  with  tremendous 
dexterit}^,  had  cloven  the  crown  of  his  helmet  of  Damascus 
steel,  and  passing  through  the  cerebellum  and  sensorium,  had 
split  his  nose  almost  in  twain. 

His  mouth  foaming — his  face  almost  green — his  eyes  full 
of  blood — his  brains  spattered  over  his  forehead,  and  several 
of  his  teeth  knocked  out, — the  discomfited  warrior  presented  a 
ghastly  spectacle,  as,  reeling  under  the  effects  of  the  last  tre- 
mendous blow  which  the  knight  of  Hombourg  dealt,  Sir  Gott- 
fried fell  heavily  from  the  saddle  of  his  piebald  charger ;  the 
frightened  animal  whisked  his  tail  wildly  with  a  shriek  and  a 
snort,  plunged  out  his  hind  legs,  trampling*  for  one  moment 
upon  the  feet  of  the  prostrate  Gottfried,  thereby  causing  him  to 
shriek  with  agony,  and  then  galloped  away  riderless. 

Away  !  ay,  away ! — away  amid  the  green  vineyards  and  gold- 
en cornfields  ;  away  up  the  steep  mountains,  where  he  frightened 
the  eagles  in  their  eyries ;  away  down  the  clattering  ravines, 
where  the  flashing  cataracts  tumble ;  away  through  the  dark 
pine-forests,  where  the  hungry  wolves  are  howling  ;  away  over 
the  drear}^  wolds,  where  the  wild  wind  walks  alone;  away 
through  the  plashing  quagmires,  where  the  will-o'-the-wisp  slunk 
frightened  among  the  reeds  ;  away  through  light  and  darkness, 
storm  and  sunshine ;  away  by  tower  and  town,  high-road  and 
hamlet.  Once  a  turnpike-man  would  have  detained  him  ;  but, 
ha  !  ha !'  he  charged  the  pike,  and  cleared  it  at  a  bound.  Once 
the  Cologne  Diligence  stopped  the  way :  he  charged  the  Dili- 
gence, he  knocked  off  the  cap  of  the  conductor  on  the  roof,  and 
yet  galloped  wildly,  madly,  furiously,  ioresistibly  on  J  Brave 
horse  \  gallant  steed  !  snorting  child  of  Araby  !  On  went  the 
horse,  over  mountains,  rivers,  turnpikes,  applew^omen ;  and 
never  stopped  until  he  reached  a  livery-stable  in  Cologne  where 
his  master  was  accustomed  to  put  him  up. 


THE  CONFESSION.  227 

Chapter  Vl. 

THE     CONFESSION. 

But  we  have  forgotten,  meanwhile,  that  prostrate  indivickial. 
Having  examined  the  wounds  in  his  side,  legs,  head,  and 
throat,  the  old  hermit  (a  skilful  leech)  knelt  down  by  the  side  of 
the  vanquished  one  and  said,  "Sir  Knight,  it  is  my  painful  duty 
to  state  to  you  that  you  are  in  an  exceedingly  dangerous  condi- 
tion, and  will  not  probably  survive." 

"  Say  you  so,  Sir  Priest  ?  then  'tis  time  I  make  my  con- 
fession. Hearken  you.  Priest,  and  you,  Sir  Knight,  whoever 
you  be." 

Sir  Ludwig  (who,  much  affected  by  the  scene,  had  been  tying 
his  horse  up  to  a  tree,)  lifted  his  visor  and  said,  "  Gottfried  of 
Godesberg  !  I  am  the  friend  of  thy  kinsman.  Margrave  Karl, 
whose  happiness  thou  hast  ruined  ;  I  am  the  friend  of  his 
chaste  and  virtuous  lady,  whose  fair  fame  thou  hast  belied  ;  I 
am  the  godfather  of  young  Count  Otto,  whose  heritage  thou 
wouldst  have  appropriated.  Therefore  I  met  thee  in  deadly 
fight,  and  overcame  thee,  and  have  wellnigh  finished  thee. 
Speak  on." 

''I  have  done  all  this,"  said  the  dying  man,  "and  here,  in 
tny  last  hour,  repent  me.  The  Lady  Theodora  is  a  spotless 
lady  ;  the  youthful  Otto  the  true  son  of  his  father — Sir  Hilde- 
brandt  is  not  his  father,  but  his  under 

"  Gracious  Buffo  !  "  "  Celestial  Bugo  !  "  here  said  the  her- 
mit and  the  Knight  of  Hombourg  simultaneously,  clasping  their 
hands. 

"  Yes,  his  uncle ;  but  with  the  bar-sinister  in  his  'scutcheon. 
Hence  he  could  never  be  acknowledged  by  the  family ;  hence, 
too,  the  Lady  Theodora's  spotless  purity  (though  the  young 
people  had  been  brought  up  together)  could  never  be  brought 
to  own  the  relationship." 

"  May  I  repeat  your  confession  ?  "  asked  the  hermit. 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure  in  life  :  carry  my  confession  to 
the  Margrave,  and  pray  him  give  me  pardon.  Were  there — a 
notary-public  present,"  slowly  gasped  the  knight,  the  film  of 
dissolution  glazing  over  his  eyes,  "  I  would  ask — you — two — • 
gentlemen  to  witness  it.  I  would  gladly — sign  the  deposition 
— that  is,  if  I  could  wr-wr-wr-wr-ite  !  "       A  faint   shuddering 


228  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

smile — a  quiver,  a  gasp,  a  gurgle — the  blood  gushed  from  his 
mouth  in  black  volumes  *  *  *  * 

"  He  will  never  sin  more,"  said  the  hermit,  solemnly. 

"  May  heaven  assoilzie  him  !  "  said  Sir  Ludwig.  "  Hermit, 
he  was  a  gallant  knight.  He  died  with  harness  on  his  back, 
and  with  truth  on  his  lips  :  Ludwig  of  Hombourg  would  ask  no 
other  death.     *     *     *     *  " 

An  hour  afterwards  the  principal  servants  at  the  Castle  of 
Godesderg  were  rather  surprised  to  see  the  noble  Lord  Louis 
trot  into  the  court-yard  of  the  castle,  with  a  companion  on  the 
crupper  of  his  saddle.  'Twas  the  venerable  Hermit  of  Roland- 
seek,  who,  for  the  sake  of  greater  celerity,  had  adopted  this  un- 
dignified conveyance,  and  whose  appearance  and  little  dumpy 
legs  might  well  create  hilarity  among  the  "  pampered  menials" 
who  are  always  found  lounging  about  the  houses  of  the  great. 
He  skipped  off  the  saddle  with  considerable  lightness,  however; 
and  Sir  Ludwig,  taking  the  reverend  man  by  the  arm,  and 
frowning  th.e  jeering  ser\  itors  into  awe,  bade  one  of  them  lead 
him  to  the  presence  of  Ins  Highness  the  Margrave. 

'■'  What  has  chanced  ?  "  said  the  inquisitive  servitor.  "The 
riderless  horse  of  Sir  Gottfried  was  seen  to  gallop  by  the  outer 
wall  anon.  The  Margrave's  Grace  has  never  quitted  your 
lordship's  chamber,  and  sits  as  one  distraught." 

"Hold  thy  prate,  knave,  and  lead  us  on  !"  And  so  say- 
ing, the  Knight  and  his  Reverence  moved  into  the  well-known 
apartment,  where,  according  to  the  servitor's  description, 
the  wretched  Margrave  sat  like  a  stone. 

Ludwig  took  one  of  the  kind  broken-hearted  man's  hands, 
the  hermit  seized  the  other,  and  began  (but  on  account  of  his 
great  age,  with  a  prolixity  which  we  shall  not  endeavor  to  imi- 
tate) to  narrate  the  events  which  we  have  already  described. 
Let  the  clear  reader  fancy,  the  while  his  Reverence  speaks,  the 
glazed  eyes  of  the  Margrave  gradually  lighting  up  with  atten- 
tion ;  the  flush  of  joy  which  mantles  in  his  countenance — the 
start — the  throb — the  almost  delirious  outburst  of  hysteric  ex- 
ultation with  which,  when  the  whole  truth  was  made  known,  he 
clasped  the  two  messengers  of  glad  tidings  to  his  breast,  with 
an  energy  that  almost  choked  the  aged  recluse  !  "  Ride,  ride 
this  instant  to  the  Margravine — say  I  have  wronged  her,  that 
it  is  all  right,  that  she  may  come  back — that  I  forgive  her — 
that  I  apologize,  if  you  will  " — and  a  secretary  forthwith  de- 
spatched a  note  to  that  efifect,  which  was  carried  off  by  a  fleet 
messenger. 

"  Now  write  to  the  Superior  of  the  monastery  at  Cologne, 


THE  CONFESSION. 


229 


and  bid  him  send  me  back  my  boy,  my  darling,  my  Otto — my 
Otto  of  roses  !  "  said  the  fond  father,  making  the  first  play 
upon  words  he  had  ever  attempted  in  his  life.  But  what  will 
not  paternal  love  effect?  Tlie  secretary  (smiling  at  the  joke) 
wrote  another  letter,  and  another  fleet  messenger  was  despatch- 
ed on  another  horse. 

"  And  now,"  said  Sir  Ludwig,  playfully,  "  let  us  to  lunch. 
Holy  hermit,  are  you  for  a  snack  .-'  " 

The  hermit  could  not  say  nay  on  an  occasion  so  festive, 
and  the  three  gentles  seated  themselves  to  a  plenteous  repast ; 
for  which  the  remains  of  the  feast  of  yesterday  offered,  it  need 
not  be  said,  ample  means. 

"They  will  be  home  by  dinner-time,"  said  the  exulting 
father.  "  Ludwig  !  reverend  hermit !  we  will  carry  on  till  then." 
An-d  the  cup  passed  gayly  round,  and  the  laugh  and  jest  circu- 
lated, while  the  three  happy  friends  sat  confidentially  awaiting 
the  return  of  the  Margravine  and  her  son. 

But  alas !  said  we  not  rightly  at  the  commencement  of  a 
former  chapter,  that  betwixt  the  lip  and  the  raised  wine-cup 
there  is  often  many  a  spill  ?  that  our  hopes  are  high,  and  often, 
too  often,  vain  ?  About  three  hours  after  the  departure  of  the 
first  messenger,  he  returned,  and  with  an  exceedingly  long  face 
knelt  down  and  presented  to  the  Margrave  a  billet  to  the  fol- 
lowing effect  : — 

"  Convenl  of  Nottnenworth,  Friday  Afternoon. 
"  SiK, — I  have  submitted  too  long  to  your  ill-usage,  and  am  disposed  to  bear  it  no  more. 
I  will  no  longer  be  made  the  butt  cf  your  ribald  satire,  and  the  object  of  your  coarse  abuse. 
Last  week  you  threatened  me  with  your  cane!  On  Tuesday  last  you  threw  a  wine-decanter 
at  me,  which  hit  the  butler,  it  is  true,  but  the  intention  was  evident.  This  morning,  in  the 
presence  cf  all  the  servants,  you  called  me  by  the  most  vile,  abominable  name,  which 
heaven  forbid  I  should  repeat !  You  dismiss  me  from  your  house  under  a  false  accusation. 
You  sent  me  to  this  odious  convent  to  be  immured  for  life.  Be  it  so  !  I  will  not  come  back, 
because,  forsooth,  you  relent.  Anything  is  better  than  a  residence  with  a  wicked,  coarse, 
violent,  intoxicated,  brutal  monster  like  yourself.  I  remain  here  forever,  and  blush  to  be 
obliged  to  sign  mysslf 

"  Theodora  von  Godesberg. 

P.S. — I  hope  you  do  not  intend  to  keep  all  my  best  gowns,  jewels,  and  wearing-ap- 
parel ;  and  make  DO  doubt  you  dismissed  me  from  your  house  in  order  to  make  way  fol 
some  vile  hussy,  whose  eyes  I  would  like  to  tear  out.  T.  V.  G." 


230  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

Chapter  VII. 

THE     SENTENCE. 

This  singular  document,  illustrative  of  the  passions  of 
women  at  all  times,  and  particularly  of  the  manners  of  the 
early  ages,  struck  dismay  into  the  heart  of  the  Margrave. 

"Are  her  ladyship's  insinuations  correct?"  asked  the  her- 
mit, in  a  severe  tone.  "  To  correct  a  wife  with  a  cane  is  a 
venial,  I  may  say  a  justifiable  practice  ;  but  to  fling  a  bottle  at 
her  is  ruin  both  to  the  liquor  and  to  her." 

But  she  sent  a  carving-knife  at  me  first,"  said  the  heart- 
broken husband.  "  O  jealousy,  cursed  jealousy,  why,  why  did 
I  ever  listen  to  thy  green  and  yellow  tongue  ?  " 

"  They  quarrelled  ;  but  they  loved  each  other  sincerely," 
whispered  Sir  Ludwig  to  the  hermit :  who  began  to  deliver 
forthwith  a  lecture  upon  family  discord  and  martial  authority, 
which  would  have  sent  his  two  hearers  to  sleep,  but  for  the 
arrival  of  the  second  messenger,  whom  the  Margrave  had  de- 
spatched to  Cologne  for  his  son.  This  herald  wore  a  still 
longer  face  than  that  of  his  comrade  who  preceded  him. 

"  Where  is  my  darling  ? "  roared  the  agonized  parent. 
"  Have  ye  brought  him  with  ye  .''  " 

"  N — no,"  said  the  man,  hesitating. 

"  I  will  flog  the  knave  soundly  when  he  comes,"  cried  the 
father,  vainly  endeavoring,  under  an  appearance  of  sternness, 
to  hide  his  inward  emotion  and  tenderness. 

"  Please,  your  Highness,"  said  the  messenger,  making  a 
desperate  effort,  "  Count  Otto  is  not  at  the  convent." 

"  Know  ye,  knave,  where  he  is  ?  " 

The  swain  solemnly  said,  "  I  do.  He  is  thcre.^''  He  point- 
ed as  he  spake  to  the  broad  Rhine,  that  was  seen  from  the 
casement,  lighted  up  by  the  magnificent  hues  of  sunset. 

"  There !  How  mean  ye  there  "i  gasped  the  Margrave, 
wrought  to  a  pitch  of  nervous  fury, 

"  Alas  !  my  good  lord,  when  he  was  in  the  boat  which  was 
to  conduct  him  to  the  convent,  he — he  jumped  suddenly  from 
it,  and  is  dr — dr — owned." 

"  Carry  that  knave  out  and  hang  him  !  "  said  the  Mar- 
grave, with  a  calmness  more  dreadful  than  any  outburst  of  rage. 
''  Let  every  man  of  the  boat's  crew  be  blown  from  the  mouth 


THE  CHILDE  OF  GODESBERG. 


J3» 


of  the  cannon  on  the  tower — except  the  coxswain,  and  let  him 
be^ — " 

What  was  to  be  done  witli  the  coxswain,  no  one  knows ; 
for  at  that  moment,  and  overcome  by  his  emotion,  the  Mar- 
grave sank  down  lifeless  on  the  floor. 


Chapter  VIII. 

THE    CHILDE    OF    GODESBERG. 


It  must  be  clear  to  the  dullest  intellect  (if  amongst  our  readers 
we  dare  venture  to  presume  that  a  dull  intellect  should  be  found) 
that  the  cause  of  the  Margrave's  fainting-fit,  described  in  the 
last  chapter,  was  a  groundless  apprehension  on  the  part  of  that 
too  solicitous  and  credulous  nobleman  regarding  the  fate  of 
his  beloved  child.  No,  young  Otto  was  not  drowned.  Was 
ever  hero  of  romantic  story  done  to  death  so  early  in  the  tale? 
Young  Otto  was  not  drowned.  Had  such  been  the  case,  the 
Lord  Margrave  would  infallibly  have  died  at  the  close  of  the  last 
chapter  ;  and  a  few  gloomy  sentences  at  its  close  would  have 
denoted  how  the  lovely  Lady  Theodora  became  insane  in  the 
convent,  and  how  Sir  Ludwig  determined,  upon  the  demise  of 
the  old  hermit  (consequent  upon  the  shock  of  hearing  the 
news),  to  retire  to  the  vacant  hermitage,  and  assume  the  robe, 
the  beard,  the  mortifications  of  the  late  venerable  and  solitary 
ecclesiastic.  Otto  was  not  drowned,  and  all  those  personages 
of  our  history  are  consequently  alive  and  well. 

The  boat  containing  the  amazed  young  Count — for  he  knew 
not  the  cause  of  his  father's  anger,  and  hence  rebelled  against 
the  unjust  sentence  which  the  Margrave  had  uttered — had  not 
rowed  many  miles,  when  the  gallant  boy  rallied  from  his  tem- 
porary surprise  and  despondency,  and  determined  not  to  be  a 
slave  in  any  convent  of  any  order :  determined  to  make  a 
desperate  effort  for  escape.  At  a  moment  when  the  men  were 
pulling  hard  against  the  tide,  and  Kuno,  the  coxswain,  was 
looking  carefully  to  steer  the  barge  between  some  dangerous 
rocks  and  quicksands,  which  were  frequently  met  with  in  the 
majestic  though  dangerous  river,  Otto  gave  a  sudden  spring 
from  the  boat,  and  with  one  single  flounce  was  in  the  boiling, 
frothing,  swirling  cddv  of  the  stream. 


232  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RmNE. 

Fancy  the  agony  of  the  crew  at  the  disappearance  of  their 
young  lord  !  All  loved  him  •  all  would  have  given  their  lives 
for  him  ;  but  as  they  did  not  know  how  to  swim,  of  course  they 
declined  to  make  any  useless  plunges  in  search  of  him,  and 
stood  on  their  oars  in  mute  wonder  and  grief.  Once,  his  fair 
head  and  golden  ringlets  were  seen  to  arise  from  the  water  ; 
iwice,  puffing  and  panting,  it  appeared  for  an  instant  again  ; 
i/trice,  it  rose  but  for  one  single  moment:  it  was  the  last 
chance,  and  it  sunk,  sunk,  sunk.  Knowing  the  reception  they 
would  meet  with  from  their  liege  lord,  the  men  naturally  did  not 
go  home  to  Godesberg,  but  putting  in  at  the  first  creek  on  the 
opposite  bank,  fled  into  the  Duke  of  Nassau's  territory  ;  where, 
as  they  have  little  to  do  with  our  tale,  we  will  leave  them. 

But  they  little  knew  how  expert  a  swimmer  was  young  Otto. 
He  had  disappeared,  it  is  true;  but  why.?  because  he  haA 
dived.  He  calculated  that  his  conductors  would  consider  him 
drowned,  and  the  desire  of  liberty  lending  him  wings,  (or  we 
l:ad  rather  szyjins,  in  this  instance,)  the  gallant  boy  swam  on 
beneath  the  water,  never  lifting  his  head  for  a  single  moment 
I)etween  Godesberg  and  Cologne — the  distance  being  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  miles. 

Escaping  from  observation,  he  landed  on  the  JDeufz  side  of 
the  river,  repaired  to  a  comfortable  and  quiet  hostel  there,  say- 
ing he  had  had  an  accident  from  a  boat,  and  thus  accounting 
for  the  moisture  of  his  habiliments,  and  while  these  were  dry- 
ing before  a  fire  in  his  chamber,  went  snugly  to  bed,  where  he 
rnused,  not  without  amaze,  on  the  strange  events  of  the  day. 
'•  This  morning,"  thought  he,  "  a  noble,  and  heir  to  a  princely 
estate — this  evening  an  outcast,  with  but  a  few  bank-notes 
which  my  mamma  luckily  gave  me  on  my  birthday.  What  a 
strange  entry  into  life  is  this  for  a  young  man  of  my  family! 
Well,  I  have  courage  and  resolution  :  my  first  attempt  in  life 
has  been  a  gallant  and  successful  one  ;  other  dangers  will  be 
conquered  by  similar  bravery."  And  recommending  himself, 
his  unhappy  mother,  and  his  mistaken  father  to  the  care  of 
their  patron  saint,  Saint  Buffo,  the  gallant-hearted  boy  fell 
presently  into  such  a  sleep,  as  only  the  young,  the  healthy,  the 
amocent,  and  the  extremely  fatigued  can  enjoy. 

The  fatigues  of  the  day  (and  very  few  men  but  would  be 
fatigued  after  swimming  wellnigh  thirty  miles  under  water) 
caused  young  Otto  to  sleep  so  profoundly,  that  he  did  not 
remark  how,  after  Friday's  sunset,  as  a  natural  consequence, 
Saturday's  Phoebus  illumined  the  world,  ay,  and  sunk  at  his 
appointed  hour.     Tiie   serving-maidens  of  the  hostel,, peeping 


THE  CHILD E  OF  GODESBUKG. 


233 


in,  marked  him  sleeping,  and  blessing  him  for  a  pretty  youth, 

tripped  lightly  from  the  chamber;  the  boots  tried  haply  twice 
or  thrice  to  call  him  (as  boots  will  fain),  but  the  lovely  boy, 
giving  another  snore,  turned  on  his  side,  and  was  quite  uncon- 
scious of  the  interruption.  In  a  word,  the  youth  slejDt  for  six- 
and-thirty  hours  at  an  elongation  ;  and  the  Sunday  sun  was 
shining,  and  the  bells  of  the  hundred  churches  of  Cologne  were 
clinking  and  toiling  in  pious  festivity,  and  the  burghers  and 
burgheresses  of  the  town  were  trooping  to  vespers  and  morn- 
ing service  when  Otto  awoke. 

As  he  donned  his  clothes  of  the  richest  Genoa  velvet,  the 
astonished  boy  could  not  at  first  account  for  his  difficulty  in 
putting  them  on.  "  Marry,"  said  he,  "  these  breeches  that  my 
blessed  mother "  (tears  filled  his  fine  eyes  as  he  thought  of 
her) — "  that  my  blessed  mother  had  made  long  on  purpose, 
are  now  ten  inches  too  short  for  me.  Whir-r-r  !  my  coat  cracks 
i'  the  back,  as  in  vain  I  try  to  buckle  it  round  me  ;  and  the 
sleeves  reach  no  farther  than  my  elbows  !  What  is  this  mys- 
tery ?  Am  I  grown  fat  and  tall  in  a  single  night  ?  Ah  !  ah  ! 
ah  !  ah  !  I  have  it." 

The  young  and  good-humored  Childe  laughed  merrily.  He 
bethought  him  of  the  reason  of  his  mistake  :  his  garments  had 
shrunk  from  being  five-and-twenty  miles  under  water. 

But  one  remedy  presented  itself  to  his  mind  ;  and  that  we 
need  not  say  was  to  purchase  new  ones.  Inquiring  the  way  to 
the  most  genteel  ready-made-clothes'  establishment  in  the  city 
of  Cologne,  and  finding  it  was  kept  in  the  Minoriten  Strasse, 
by  an  ancestor  of  the  celebrated  Moses  of  London,  the  noble 
Childe  hied  him  towards  the  emporium  ;  but  you  may  be  sure 
did  not  neglect  to  perform  his  religious  duties  by  the  way.  En- 
tering the  cathedral,  he  made  straight  for  the  shrine  of  Saint 
liuffo,  and  hiding  himself  behind  a  pillar  there  (fearing  he 
might  be  recognized  by  the  archbishop,  or  any  of  his  father's 
numerous  friends  in  Cologne),  he  proceeded  with  his  devotions, 
as  was  the  practice  of  the  young  nobles  of  the  age. 

But  though  exceedingly  intent  upon  the  service,  yet  his  eye 
could  not  refrain  from  wandering  a  little  round  about  him,  and 
he  remarked  with  surprise  that  the  whole  church  was  filled 
with  archers  ;  and  he  remembered,  too,  that  he  had  seen  in 
the  streets  numerous  other  bands  of  men  similarly  attired  in 
green.  On  asking  at  the  cathedral  porch  the  cause  of  this 
assemblage,  one  of  the  green  ones  said  (in  a  jape),  "  Marry, 
youngster,  you  must  be  green,  not  to  know  that  we  are  all  bound 
to  tlie  castle  of  his  Grace  Duke  Adolf  of  Cleves.  who  dves  an 


234 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE 


archery  meeting  once  a  year,  and  prizes  for  which  we  toxoph* 
ilites  muster  strong." 

Otto;  whose  course  hitherto  had  been  undetermined,  now 
immediately  settled  what  to  do.  He  straightway  repaired  to 
the  ready-made  emporium  of  Herr  Moses,  and  bidding  that 
gentleman  furnish  him  with  an  archer's  complete  dress,  Moses 
speedily  selected  a  suit  from  his  vast  stock,  which  fitted  the 
youth  to  a  /,  and  we  need  not  say  was  sold  at  an  exceedingly 
moderate  price.  So  attired  (and  bidding  Herr  Moses  a  cordial 
farewell),  young  Otto  was  a  gorgeous,  a  noble,  a  soul-inspiring 
boy  to  gaze  on.  A  coat  and  breeches  of  the  most  brilliant 
pea-green,  ornamented  with  a  profusion  of  brass  buttons,  and 
fitting  him  with  exquisite  tightness,  showed  off  a  figure  un- 
rivalled for  slim  symmetry.  His  feet  were  covered  with  peaked 
buskins  of  buff  leather,  and  a  belt  round  his  slender  waist,  of 
the  same  material,  held  his  knife,  his  tobacco-pipe  and  pouch, 
and  his  long  shining  dirk  ;  which,  though  the  adventurous 
youth  had  as  yet  only  employed  it  to  fashion  wicket-bails,  or  to 
cut  bread-ancl-cheese,  he  was  now  quite  ready  to  use  against 
the  enemy.  His  personal  attractions  were  enhanced  by  a  neat 
white  hat,  flung  carelessly  and  fearlessly  on  one  side  of  his 
open  smiling  countenance ;  and  his  lovely  hair,  curling  in  ten 
thousand  yellow  ringlets,  fell  over  his  shoulder  like  golden 
epaulettes,  and  down  his  back  as  far  as  the  waist-buttons  of  his 
coat.  I  warrant  me,  many  a  lovely  Colnerinn  looked  after  the 
handsome  Childe  with  anxiety,  and  dreamed  that  night  of 
Cupid  under  the  guise  of  "  a  bonny  boy  in  green." 

So  accoutred,  the  youth's  next  thought  was,  that  he  must 
supply  himself  with  a  bow.  This  he  speedily  purchased  at  the 
most  fashionable  bowyer's,  and  of  the  best  material  and  make. 
It  was  of  ivory,  trimmed  with  pink  ribbon,  and  "the  cord  of  silk. 
An  elegant  quiver,  beautifully  painted  and  embroidered,  was 
slung  across  his  back,  with  a  dozen  of  the  finest  arrows,  tipped 
with  steel  of  Damascus,  formed  of  the  branches  of  the  famous 
Upas-tree  of  Java,  and  feathered  with  the  wings  of  the  ortolan. 
These  purchases  being  completed  (together  with  that  of  a  knap- 
sack, dressing-case,  change.  &c.),  our  young  adventurer  asked 
where  was  the  hostel  at  which  the  archers  were  wont  to  as- 
semble .''  and  being  informed  that  it  was  at  the  sign  of  the 
"  Golden  Stag,"  hied  him  to  that  house  of  entertainment,  where, 
by  calling  for  quantities  of  liquor  and  beer,  he  speedily  made 
the  acquaintance  and  acquired  the  good-will  of  a  company  of 
his  future  comrades,  who  happened  to  be  sitting  in  the  coffee' 
roo^iU 


THE  CHILDE  OF  GODESBERG. 


235 


After  they  had  eaten  and  drunken  for  all,  Otto  said,  ad- 
dressing them,  "  When  go  ye  forth,  gentles  ?  I  am  a  stranger 
here,  bound  as  you  to  the  archery  meeting  of  Duke  Adolf.  An 
ye  will  admit  a  youth  into  your  company 'twill  gladden  me  upon 
my  lonely  way!  " 

The  archers  replied,  "  You  seem  so  young  and  jolly,  and 
you  spend  your  gold  so  very  like  a  gentleman,  that  we'll  receive 
you  in  our  band  with  pleasure.  Be  ready,  for  we  start  at  half- 
past  two !  "  At  that  hour  accordingly  the  whole  joyous  com- 
pany prepared  to  move,  and  Otto  not  a  little  increased  his 
popularity  among  them  by  stepping  out  and  having  a  conference 
with  the  landlord,  which  caused  the  latter  to  come  into  the 
room  where  the  archers  were  assembled  previous  to  departure, 
and  to  say,  "  Gentlemen,  the  bill  is  settled  !  " — words  never  un- 
grateful to  an  archer  yet :  no,  Marry,  nor  to  a  man  of  any  other 
calling  that  I  wot  of. 

They  marched  joyously  for  several  leagues,  singing  and 
joking,  and  telling  of  a  thousand  feats  of  love  and  chase  and 
war.  While  thus  engaged,  some  one  remarked  to  Otto,  that  he 
was  not  dressed  in  the  regular  uniform,  having  no  feathers  in 
his  hat. 

"  I  dare  say  I  will  find  a  feather,"  said  the  lad,  smiling. 

Then  another  gibed  because  his  bow  was  new. 

"See  that  you  can  use  your  old  one  as  well,  Master  Wolf- 
gang," said  the  undisturbed  youth.  His  answers,  his  bearing, 
his  generosity,  his  beauty,  and  his  wit,  inspired  all  his  new 
toxophilite  friends  with  interest  and  curiosity,  and  they  longed 
to  see  whether  his  skill  with  the  bow  corresponded  with  their 
secret  sympathies  for  him. 

An  occasion  for  manifesting  this  skill  did  not  fail  to  present 
itself  soon — as  indeed  it  seldom  does  to  such  a  hero  of  romance 
as  young  Otto  was.  Fate  seems  to  watch  over  such :  events 
occur  to  them  just  in  the  nick  of  time  ;  they  rescue  virgins  just 
as  ogres  are  on  the  point  of  devouring  them  ;  they  manage  to 
be  present  at  court  and  interesting  ceremonies,  and  to  see  the 
most  interesting  people  at  the  most  interesting  moment  ; 
directly  an  adventure  is  necessary  for  them,  that  adventure 
occurs  :  and  I,  for  my  part,  have  often  wondered  with  delight 
(and  never  could  penetrate  the  mystery  of  the  subject)  at  the 
way  in  which  that  humblest  of  romance  heroes,  Signor  Clown, 
when  he  wants  anything  in  the  Pantomime,  straightway  finds  it 
to  his  hand.  How  is  it  that, — suppose  he  wishes  to  dress  him- 
self up  like  a  woman  for  instance,  that  minute  a  coalheaver 
walks  in  with  a  shovel-hat  that  answers  for  a  bonnet ;  at  the 


236 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


very  next  instant  a  butcher's  lad  passing  with  a  string  of 
sausages  and  a  bundle  of  bladders  unconsciously  helps  Master 
Clown  to  a  necklace  and  a  iournurc,  and  so  on  through  the 
whole  toilet  ?  Depend  upon  it  there  is  something  we  do  not 
wot  of  in  that  mysterious  overcoming  of  circumstances  by  great 
individuals  :  that  apt  and  wondrous  conjuncture  of  /he  Hour  and 
the  Man  ;  and  so,  for  my  part,  when  I  heard  the  above  remark  of 
one  of  the  archers,  that  Otto  had  never  a  feather  in  his  bonnet, 
I  felt  sure  that  a  heron  would  spring  up  in  the  next  sentence  to 
supply  him  with  an  aigrette. 

And  such  indeed  was  the  fact :  rising  out  of  a  morass  by 
which  the  archers  were  passing,  a  gallant  heron,  arching  his 
neck,  swelling  his  crest,  placing  his  legs  behind  him,  and  his 
beak  and  red  eyes  against  the  wind,  rose  slowly,  and  offered 
the  fairest  mark  in  the  world. 

"  Shoot,  Otto,"  said  one  of  the  archers.  "  You  would  not 
shoot  just  now  at  a  crow  because  it  was  a  foul  bird,  nor  at  a 
hawk  because  it  was  a  noble  bird ;  bring  us  down  yon  heron  : 
it  flies  slowly." 

But  Otto  was  busy  that  moment  tying  his  shoestring,  and 
Rudolf,  the  third  best  of  the  archers,  shot  at  the  bird  and 
missed  it. 

"  Shoot,  Otto,"  said  Wolfgang,  a  youth  who  had  taken  a 
liking  to  the  young  archer  :  "  the  bird  is  getting  further  and 
further." 

But  Otto  was  busy  that  moment  whittling  a  willow-twig  he 
had  just  cut.     Max,  the  second  best  archer,  shot  and  missed. 

"  Then,"  said  Wolfgang,  "  I  must  try  myself :  a  plague  on 
you,  young  springald,  you  have  lost  a  noble  chance  1  " 

Wolfgang  prepared  himself  with  all  his  care,  and  shot  at 
the  bird.  "  It  is  out  of  distance,"  said  he,  "and  a  murrain  on 
the  bird  ! " 

Otto,  who  by  this  time  had  done  whittling  his  willow-stick 
(having  carved  a  capital  caricature  of  Wolfgang  upon  it),  flung 
the  twig  down  and  said  carelessly,  "  Out  of  distance  !  Pshaw  ! 
We  have  two  minutes  yet,"  and  fell  to  asking  riddles  and  cut- 
ting jokes  ;  to  the  which  none  of  the  archers  listened,  as  they 
were  all  engaged,  their  noses  in  air,  watching  the  retreating 
bird. 

"  Where  shall  I  hit  him  ?  "  said  Otto, 

"  Go  to,"  said  Rudolf,  "  thou  canst  see  no  limb  of  him  :  he 
is  no  bigger  than  a  flea." 

"  Here  goes  for  his  right  eye  I  "  said  Otto ;  and  stepping 
forward  in   the   English  manner  (whicli  his  godfather  having 


THE  CHILDE  OF  CODESBERG.  237 

learnt  in  Palestine,  had  taught  him),  he  brought  his  bowstring 
to  his  ear,  took  a  good  aim,  allowing  for  the  wind  and  calcu- 
lating the  parabola  to  a  nicety.     Whizz  !  his  arrow  went  ofif. 

He  took  up  the  willow-twig  again  and  began  carving  a 
head  of  Rudolf  at  the  other  end,  chatting  and  laughing,  and 
singing  a  ballad  the  while. 

The  archers,  after  standing  a  long  time  looking  skywards 
with  their  noses  in  the  air,  at  last  brought  them  down  from  the 
perpendicular  to  the  horizontal  position,  and  said,  "  Pooh,  this 
lad  is  a  humbug  !     The  arrow's  lost ;  let's  go  !  " 

"  Heads  /"  cried  Otto,  laughing.  A  speck  was  seen  rapidly 
descending  from  the  heavens  ;  it  grew  to  be  as  big  as  a  crown- 
piece,  then  as  a  partridge,  then  as  a  tea-kettle,  and  flop  !  down 
fell  a  magnificent  heron  to  the  ground,  flooring  poor  Max  in 
its  fall. 

"  Take  the  arrow  out  of  his  eye,  Wolfgang,"  said  Otto, 
without  looking  at  the  bird  :  "  wipe  it  and  put  it  back  into  my 
quiver." 

The  arrow  indeed  was  there,  having  penetrated  right 
through  the  pupil. 

"  Are  you  in  league  with  Der  Freischiitz .?  "  said  Rudolf, 
quite  amazed. 

_  Otto  laughingly  whistled  the  "  Huntsman's  Chorus,"  and 
said,  "  No,  my  friend.  It  was  a  lucky  shot  :  only  a  lucky  shot. 
I  was  taught  shooting,  look  you,  in  the  fashion  of  merry  Eng- 
land, where  the  archers  are  archers  indeed." 

And  so  he  cut  off  the  heron's  wing  for  a  plume  for  his  hat ; 
and  the  archers  walked  on,  much  amazed,  and  saying,  "  What 
a  wonderful  country  that  merry  England  must  be  !  " 

Far  from  feeling  any  envy  at  their  comrade's  success,  the 
jolly  archers  recognized  his  superiority  with  pleasure  ;  and 
Wolfgang  and  Rudolf  especially  held  out  their  hands  to  the 
younker,  and  besought  the  honor  of  his  friendship.  They  con- 
tinued their  walk  all  day,  and  when  night  fell  made  choice  of  a 
good  hostel  you  may  be  sure,  where  over  beer,  punch,  cham- 
pagne, and  every  luxury,  they  drank  to  the  health  of  the  Duke 
of  Cleves,  and  indeed  each  other's  healths  all  round.  Next 
day  they  resumed  their  march,  and  continued  it  without  inter- 
ruption, except  to  take  in  a  supply  of  victuals  here  and  there 
(and  it  was  found  on  these  occasions  that  Otto,  young  as  he 
was,  could  eat  faijr  times  as  much  as  the  oldest  archer  present, 
and  drink  to  cdiTespond)  ;  and  these  con  timed  refreshments 
having  given  them  more  than  ordinary  strength,  they  deter- 
mined on  making  rather  a  long  march  of  it,  and  did  not  halt 
till  after  nightfall  at  the  gates  of  the  Uttle  town  of  Windeck. 


238  ^  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  the  town-gates  were  shut.  "  I3 
there  no  hostel,  no  castle  where  we  can  sleep?  "  asked  Otto  of 
the  sentinel  at  the  gate.  "  I  am  so  hungry  that  in  lack  of 
better  food  I  think  I  could  eat  my  grandmamma." 

The  sentinel  laughed  at  this  hyperbolical  expression  of 
hunger,  and  said,  "  You  had  best  go  sleep  at  the  Castle  of 
Windeck  yonder;"  adding  with  a  peculiarly  knowing  look, 
"  Nobody  will  disturb  you  there." 

At  that  moment  the  moon  broke  out  from  a  cloud,  and 
showed  on  a  hill  hard  by  a  castle  indeed — but  the  skeleton  of 
a  castle.  The  roof  was  gone,  the  windows  were  dismantled, 
the  towers  were  tumbling,  and  the  cold  moonlight  pierced  it 
through  and  through.  One  end  of  the  building  was,  however, 
still  covered  in,  and  stood  looking  still  more  frowning,  vast, 
and  gloomy,  even  than  the  other  part  of  the  edifice. 

"  There  is  a  lodging,  certainly,"  said  Otto  to  the  sentinel, 
who  pointed  towards  the  castle  with  his  bartizan  ;  "  but  tell  me, 
good  fellow,  what  are  we  to  do  for  a  supper  ?  " 

"  Oh,  the  castellan  of  Windeck  will  entertain  you,"  said 
the  man-at-arms  with  a  grin,  and  marched  up  the  embrasure  ; 
the  while  the  archers,  taking  counsel  among  themselves,  de- 
bated whether  or  not  they  should  take  up  their  quarters  in  the 
gloomy  and  deserted  edifice. 

"We  shall  get  nothing  but  an  owl  for  supper  there,"  said 
young  Otto.  "  Marry,  lads,  let  us  storm  the  town  ;  we  are 
thirty  gallant  fellows,  and  I  have  heard  the  garrison  is  not 
more  than  three  hundred."  But  the  rest  of  the  party  thought 
such  a  way  of  getting  supper  was  not  a  very  cheap  one,  and, 
grovelling  knaves,  preferred  rather  to  sleep  ignobly  and  without 
victuals,  than  dare  the  assault  with  Otto,  and  die,  or  conquer 
something  comfortable. 

One  and  all  then  made  their  way  towards  the  castle.  They 
entered  its  vast  and  silent  halls,  frightening  the  owls  and  bats 
that  fled  before  them  with  hideous  hootings  and  flappings  of 
wings,  and  passing  by  a  multiplicity  of  mouldy  stairs,  dank 
reeking  roofs,  and  rickety  corridors,  at  last  came  to  an  apart- 
ment which,  dismal  and  dismantled  as  it  was,  appeared  to  be 
in  rather  better  condition  than  the  neighboring  chambers,  and 
they  therefore  selected  it  as  their  place  of  rest  for  the  night. 
They  then  tossed  up  which  should  mount  guard.  The  first 
two  hours  of  watch  fell  to  Otto,  who  was  to  ^  succeeded  by 
his  young  though  humble  friend  Wolfgang  ;  and,  accordingly, 
the  Childe  of  Godesberg,  drawing  his  dirk,  began  to  pace  upon 
his  weary  round;  while  his  comrades,  by  various  gradations 


THE  LADY  OF  WINDECK. 


239 


of  snoring,  told  how  profoundly  they  slept,  spite  of  their  lack 
of  supper. 

'Tis  needless  to  say  what  were  the  thoughts  of  the  nobl6 
Childe  as  he  performed  his  two  hours'  watch  ;  what  gushing 
memories  poured  into  his  soul  j  ''what  sweet  and  bitter"  rec- 
ollections of  home  inspired  his  throbbing  heart ;  and  what 
manly  aspirations  after  fame  buoyed  him  up.  "Youth  is  ever 
confident,"  says  the  bard.  Happy,  happy  season  !  The  moon- 
lit hours  passed  by  on  silver  win2,s,  the  twinkling  stars  looked 
friendly  down  upon  him.  Confiding  in  their  youthful  sentinel, 
sound  slept  the  valorous  toxophilites,  as  up  and  down,  and 
there  and  back  again,  marched  on  the  noble  Childe.  At  length 
his  repeater  told  him,  much  to  his  satisfaction,  that  it  was  half- 
past  eleven,  the  hour  when  his  watch  was  to  cease  ;  and  so, 
giving  a  playful  kick  to  the  slumbering  Wolfgang,  that  good- 
humored  fellow  sprung  up  from  his  lair,  and,  drav.'ing  his  sword, 
proceeded  to  relieve  Otto. 

The  latter  laid  him  down  for  warmth's  sake  on  the  very 
spot  which  his  comrade  had  left,  and  for  some  time  could  not 
sleep.  Realities  and  visions  then  began  to  mingle  in  his  mind, 
till  he  scarce  knew  which  was  which.  He  dozed  for  a  minute; 
then  he  woke  with  a  start ;  then  he  went  off  again  ;  then  woke 
ujj  again.  In  one  of  these  half-sleeping  moments  he  thought 
he  saw  a  figure,  as  of  a  woman  in  white,  gliding  into  the  room, 
and  beckoning  Wolfgang  from  it.  He  looked  again.  Wolfgang 
was  gone.  At  that  moment  twelve  o'clock  clanged  from  the 
town,  and  Otto  started  up. 


Chapter  IX. 

THE    LADY    OF    WINDECK. 


As  the  bell  with  iron  tongue  called  midnight,  Wolfgang  the 
Archer,  jjacing  on  his  watch,  beheld  before  him  a  pale  female 
figure.  He  did  not  know  whence  she  came  :  but  there  suddenly 
she  stood  close  to  him.  Her  blue,  clear,  glassy  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  him.  Her  form  was  of  faultless  beauty ;  her  face 
pale  as  the  marble  of  the  fairy  statue,  ere  yet  the  sculptor's 
love  had  given  it  life,  A  smile  played  upon  her  features,  but 
it  was  no  warmer  than  the  reliection  of  a  moonbeam  on  a  lakel- 
and yet  it  was  wondrous  beautiful.     A  fascination  stole  over 


240  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

the  senses  of  young  Wolfgang.  He  stared  at  the  lovely  appa- 
rition  with  fixed  eyes  and  distended  jaws.  She  looked  at  him 
with  ineffable  archness.  She  lifted  one  beautifully  rounded 
alabaster  arm,  and  made  a  sign  as  if  to  beckon  him  towards 
her.  Did  Wolfgang — the  young  and  lusty  Wolfgang — follow? 
Ask  the  iron  whether  it  follows  the  magnet  ? — ask  the  pointer 
whether  it  pursues  the  partridge  through  the  stubble  ? — ask  the 
youth  whether  the  lollypop-shop  does  not  attract  him  ?  Wolf- 
gang did  follow.  An  antique  door  opened,  as  if  b}*  magic. 
There  was  no  light,  and  yet  they  saw  quite  plain  ;  they  passed 
through  the  innumerable  ancient  chambers,  and  yet  they  did 
not  wake  any  of  the  owls  and  bats  roosting  there.  We  know 
not  through  how  many  apartments  the  young  couple  passed  •, 
but  at  last  they  came  to  one  where  a  feast  was  prepared  ;  and 
on  an  antique  table,  covered  with  massive  silver,  covers  were 
laid  for  two.  The  lady  took  her  place  at  one  end  of  the  table, 
and  with  her  sweetest  nod  beckoned  Wolfgang  to  the  other 
seat.  The  table  was  small,  and  their  knees  met.  He  felt  as 
cold  in  his  legs,  as  if  he  were  kneeling  against  an  ice-well. 

•  "  Gallant  archer,"  said  she,  "  you  must  be  hungry  after  your 
day's  march.  What  supper  will  you  have  ?  Shall  it  be  a  deli- 
cate lobster-salad  ?  or  a  dish  of  elegant  tripe  and  onions  ?  or  a 
slice  of  boar's-head  and  truffles  }  or  a  Welsh  rabbit  a  la  cave 
ail  cidrel  or  a  beefsteak  and  shallot  ?  or  a  couple  of  rognotis  a 
la  brochettcl     Speak,  brave  bowyer  ;  you  have  but  to  order." 

As  there  was  nothing  on  the  table  but  a  covered  silver  dish, 
Wolfgang  thought  that  the  lady  who  proposed  such  a  multi- 
plicity of  delicacies  to  him  was  only  laughing  at  him  ;  so  he 
determined  to  try  her  with  something  extremely  rare. 

"  Fair  princess,"  he  said,  ''  I  should  like  very  much  a  pork- 
chop  and  some  mashed  potatoes." 

She  lifted  the  cover  :  there  was  such  a  pork-chop  as  Sim{> 
son  never  served,  with  a  dish  of  mashed  potatoes  that  would 
liave  formed  at  least  six  portions  in  our  degenerate  days  in 
Rupert  Street. 

When  he  had  helped  himself  to  these  delicacies,  the  lady 
put  the  cover  on  the  dish  again,  and  watched  him  eating  with 
interest.  He  was  for  some  time  too  much  occupied  with  his 
own  food  to  remark  that  his  companion  did  not  eat  a  morsel ; 
but  big  as  it  was,  his  chop  was  soon  gone  ;  the  shining  silver 
of  his  plate  was  scraped  quite  clean  with  his  knife,  and,  heav- 
ing a  great  sigh,  he  confessed  a  humble  desire  for  something 
to  drink. 

'•  Call  for  what  you  like,  sweet  sir,"  said  the  lady,  lifting  u' 


THE  LAD  Y  OF  WINDECK. 


241 


A  silver  filigree  bottle,  with  an  india-rubber  cork,  ornamented 
ivith  gold. 

"  Then,"  said  Master  Wolfgang— for  the  fellow's  tastes  were» 
in  sooth,  very  humble — "  I  call  for  half-and-half."  According 
to  his  wish,  a,  pint  of  that  delicious  beverage  was  poured  from 
the  bottle,  foaming,  into  his  beaker. 

Having  emptied  this  at  a  draught,  and  declared  that  on  his 
conscience  it  was  the  best  tap  he  ever  knew  in  his  life,  the 
young  man  felt  his  appetite  renewed  ;  and  it  is  impossible  to 
say  how  many  different  dishes  he  called  for.  Only  enchant- 
ment, he  was  afterwards  heard  to  declare  (though  none  of  his 
friends  believed  him),  could  have  given  him  the  appetite  he 
possessed  on  that  extraordinary  night.  He  called  for  another 
pork-chop  and  potatoes,  then  for  pickled  salmon  \  then  he 
thought  he  would  try  a  devilled  turkey-wing,  ■"  I  adore  the 
devil,"  said  he, 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  pale  lady,  with  unwonted  animation ; 
and  the  dish  was  served  straightway.  It  was  succeeded  by 
black-puddings,  tripe,  toasted  cheese,  and — what  was  most  re- 
markable— every  one  of  the  dishes  which  he  desired  came  from 
under  the  same  silver  cover  :  which  circumstance,  when  he  had 
partaken  of  about  fourteen  different  articles,  he  began  to  find 
rather  mysterious. 

"Oh,"  said  the  pale  lady,  with  a  smile,  "the  mystery  is 
easily  accounted  for:  the  servants  hear  you,  and  the  kitchen  is 
Jjelow."  But  this  did  not  account  for  the  manner  in  which 
more  half-and-half,  bitter  ale,  punch  (both  gin  and  rum),  and 
even  oil  and  vinegar,  which  he  took  with  cucumber  to  his 
salmon,  came  out  of  the  self-same  bottle  from  which  the  lady 
had  first  poured  out  his  pint  of  half-and-half. 

"  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Voracio," 
said  his  arch  entertainer,  when  he  put  this  question  to  her, 
"'  than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy  ;  "  and,  sooth  to  say, 
the  archer  was  by  this  time  in  such  a  state,  that  he  did  not 
find  anything  wonderful  more, 

"  Are  you  happy,  dear  youth  ?  "  said  the  lady,  as,  after  his 
collation,  he  sank  back  in  his  chair. 

"  Oh,  miss,  ain't  I J  "  was  his  interrogative  and  yet  affirma- 
tive reply. 

"  Should  you  like  such  a  supper  every  night,  Wolfgang  ?  " 
continued  the  pale  one. 

"  Why,  no,"  said  he  ;  "  no,  not  exactly  .;  not  every  night  : 
i.o}iie  nights  I  should  like  oysters." 

**  I)e,ir  youth,"  said  she^  "be  but  mine,  and  you  may  have 


242 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


them  all  the  5'-ear  round !  "  The  unhappy  boy  was  too  faf 
gone  to  suspect  anything,  otherwise  this  extraordinary  speech 
would  have  told  hint  that  he  was  in  suspicious  company.  A 
person  who  can  offer  oysters  all  the  year  round  can  live  to  no 
good  purpose. 

"  Shall  I  sing  you  a  song,  dear  archer  1  "  said  the  lady. 

"  Sweet  love  !  "  said  he,  now  much  excited,  "  strike  up,  and 
I  will  join  the  chonis." 

She  took  down  her  mandolin,  and  commenced  a  ditty.  'Twas 
a  sweet  and  wild  one.  It  told  how  a  lady  of  high  lineage  cast 
her  eyes  on  a  peasant  page  ;  it  told  how  nought  could  her  love 
assuage,  her  suitor's  wealth  and  her  father's  rage  :  it  told  how 
the  youth  did  his  foes  engage  ;  and  at  length  they  went  off  in 
the  Gretna  stage,  the  high-born  dame  and  the  peasant  page. 
Wolfgang  beat  time,  waggled  his  head,  sung  wofully  out  of  tune 
as  the  song  proceeded ;  and  if  he  had  not  been  too  intoxicated 
with  love  and  other  excitement,  he  would  have  remarked  how 
the  pictures  on  the  wall,  as  the  lady  sung,  began  to  waggle 
their  heads  too,  and  nod  and  grin  to  the  music.  The  song  en- 
ded. "  I  am  the  lady  of  high  lineage  :  Archer,  will  you  be  the 
peasant  page  ? " 

"  I'll  follow  you  to  the  devil  !  "  said  Wolfgang. 

"  Conie,"  replied  the  lady,  glaring  wildly  on  him,  "  come  to 
the  chapel ;  we'll  be  married  this  minute  !  " 

She  held  out  her  hand — Wolfgang  took  it.  It  was  cold,^ 
damp, — deadly  cold  ;  and  on  they  went  to  the  chapel. 

As  they  passed  out,  the  two  pictures  over  the  wall,  of  a  gen- 
tleman and  lady,  tripped  lightly  out  of  their  frames,  skipped 
noiselessly  down  to  the  ground,  and  making  the  retreating 
couple  a  profound  curtsey  and  bow,  took  the  places  which  they 
bad  left  at  the  table. 

Meanwhile  the  young  couple  passed  on  towards  the  chapel, 
threading  innumerable  passages,  and  passing  through  chambers 
of  great  extent.  As  they  came  along,  all  the  portraits  on  the 
wall  stepped  out  of  their  frames  to  follow  them.  One  ancestor, 
of  whom  there  was  only  a  bust,  frowned  in  the  greatest  rage, 
because,  having  no  legs,  his  pedestal  would  not  move  ;  and 
several  sticking-plaster  profiles  of  the  former  Lords  of  Windeck 
looked  quite  black  at  iDcing,  for  similar  reasons,  compelled  to 
keep  their  places.  However,  there  was  a  goodly  procession 
formed  l^ehind  \A'olfgang  and  his  bride  ;  and  by  the  time  the;y 
reached  the  church,  they  had  near  a  hundred  followers. 

The  churcli  was  splendidly  illuminated;  the  old  l^anners  of 
the   old  kiiiglitG  gliLLcred  as    Lucy  i.\o  at  Drury  Lane.     The  or^ 


THE  LADY  OF  WINDECK. 


243 


gan  set  up  of  itself  to  jolay  the  "  Bridesmaid's  Chorus."  The 
choir-chairs  were  filled,  with  people  in  black. 

"  Come,  love,"  said  the  pale  lady. 

"  I  don't  see  the  parson,"  exclaimed  Wolfgang,  spite  of  him- 
self rather  alarmed. 

"  Oh,  the  parson  !  that's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  !  I 
say,  bishop  !  "  said  the  lady,  stooping  down. 

Stooping  down — and  to  what  ?  Why,  upon  my  word  and 
honor,  to  a  great  brass  plate  on  the  floor,  over  whicli  they  were 
passing,  and  on  which  was  engraven  the  figure  of  a  bishop — ■ 
and  a  very  ugly  bishop,  too — with  crosier  and  mitre,  and  lifted 
finger,  on  which  sparkled  the  episcopal  ring.  "  Do,  my  dear 
lord,  come  and  marry  us,"  said  the  lady,  with  a  levity  which 
shocked  the  feelings  of  her  bridegroom. 

The  bishop  got  up  ;  and  directly  he  rose,  a  dean,  who  was 
sleeping  under  a  large  slate  near  him,  came  bowing  and  cring- 
ing  up  to  him  ;  while  a  canon  of  the  cathedral  (whose  name  was 
Schidnischmidt)  began  grinning  and  making  fun  at  the  pair. 
The  ceremony  was  begun,  and  *  *  *  * 

As  the  clock  struck  twelve,  young  Otto  bounded  up,  and 
remarked  the  absence  of  his  companion  Wolfgang.  The  idea 
he  had  had,  that  his  friend  disappeared  in  company  with  a 
white-robed  female,  struck  him  more  and  more.  "  I  will  follow 
them,"  said  he  ;  and,  calling  to  the  next  on  the  watch  (old 
Snozo,  who  was  right  unwilling  to  forego  his  sleep),  he  rushed 
away  by  the  door  through  which  he  had  seen  Wolfgang  and  his 
temptress  take  their  way. 

That  he  did  not  find  them  was  not  his  fault.  The  castle 
was  vast,  the  chamber  dark.  There  were  a  thousand  doors, 
and  what  wonder  that,  after  he  had  once  lost  sight  of  them,  the 
intrepid  Childe  should  not  be  able  to  follow  in  their  steps  ?  As 
might  be  expected,  he  took  the  wrong  door,  and  wandered  for 
at  least  three  hours  about  the  dark  enormous  solitary  castle, 
calling  out  Wolfgang's  name  to  the  careless  and  indifferent 
echoes,  knocking  his  young  shins  against  the  ruins  scattered  in 
the  darkness,  but  still  with  a  spirit  entirely  undaunted,  and  a 
firm  resolution  to  aid  his  absent  comrade.  Brave  Otto !  thy 
exertions  were  rewarded  at  last ! 

For  he  lighted  at  length  upon  the  very  apartment  where 
Wolfgang  had  partaken  of  supper,  and  where  the  old  couple 
who  had  been  in  the  pictures-frames,  and  turned  out  to  be  the 
lady's  father  and  mother,  were  now  sitting  at  the  table. 

"  Well,  BertiiaJias  got  a  husband  at  last,"  said  the  lady. 


244 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


"After  waiting  four  hundred  and  fifty-three  years  for  one,  it 
was  quite  time,"  said  the  gentleman.  (He  was  dressed  in 
powder  and  a  pigtail,  quite  in  the  old  fashion.) 

"The  husband  is  no  great  things,"  continued  the  lady, 
taking  snuff.  "  A  low  fellow,  my  dear ;  a  butcher's  son,  I 
believe.  Did  you  see  how  the  wretch  ate  at  supper  ?  To  think 
my  daughter  should  have  to  marry  an  archer!  " 

"  There  are  archers  and  archers,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Some 
archers  are  snobs,  as  your  ladyship  states  \  some,  on  the  con- 
trary, are  gentlemen  by  birth,  at  least,  though  not  by  breeding. 
Witness  young  Otto,  the  Landgrave  of  Godesberg's  son,  who 
is  listening  at  the  door  like  a  lackey,  and  whom  I  intend  to  run 
through  the " 

"Law,  Baron  !"  said  the  lady. 

"  I  will,  though,"  replied  the  Baron,  drawing  an  immense 
sword,  and  glaring  round  at  Otto  :  but  though  at  the  sight  of 
that  sword  and  that  scowl  a  less  valorous  youth  would  have 
taken  to  his  heels,  the  undaunted  Childe  advanced  at  once  into 
the  apartment.  He  wore  round  his  neck  a  relic  of  St.  Buffo 
(the  tip  of  the  saint's  ear,  which  had  been  cut  off  at  Constan- 
tinople). "  Fiends  !  I  command  you  to  retreat !  "  said  he, 
holding  up  this  sacred  charm,  which  his  mamma  had  fastened 
on  him  ;  and  at  the  sight  of  it,  with  an  unearthly  yell  the  ghost 
of  the  Baron  and  the  Baroness  sprung  back  into  their  picture 
frames,  as  clown  goes  through  a  clock  in  a  pantomime. 

He  rushed  through  the  open  door  by  which  the  unlucky 
Wolfgang  had  passed  with  his  demoniacal  bride,  and  went  on 
and  on  through  the  vast  gloomy  chambers  lighted  by  the  ghastly 
moonshine  :  the  noise  of  the  organ  in  the  chapel,  the  lights  in 
the  kaleidoscopic  windows,  directed  him  towards  that  edifice. 
He  rushed  to  the  door :  'twas  barred !  He  knocked  :  the 
beadles  were  deaf.  He  applied  his  inestimable  relic  to  the 
lock,  and  —  whizz!  crash!  clang!  bang!  whang!  —  the  gate 
flew  open  !  the  organ  went  off  in  a  fugue — the  lights  quivered 
over  the  tapers,  and  then  went  off  towards  the  ceiling — the 
ghosts  assembled  rushed  away  with  a  skurry  and  a  scream — 
the  bride  howled,  and  vanished — the  fat  bishop  waddled  back 
under  his  brass  plate — the  dean  flounced  down  into  his  family 
vault — and  the  canon  Schidnischmidt,  who  was  making  a  joke, 
as  usual,  on  the  bishop,  was  obliged  to  stop  at  the  very  point  of 
his  epigram,  and  to  disappear  into  the  void  whence  he  came. 

Otto  fell  fainting  at  the  porch,  while  Wolfgang  tumbled 
lifeless  down  at  the  altar-steps  ;  and  in  this  situation  the 
archers,  when  tb.ey  arrived,  found  tiie  two  youths.     'J'hey  were 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BOWMEN. 


!45 


resuscitated,  as  we  scarce  need  say :  but  when,  in  incoherent 
accents,  they  came  to  tell  their  wondrous  tale,  some  skeptics 
among  the  archers  said  —  "  Pooh  !  they  were  intoxicated  !  " 
while  others,  nodding  their  older  heads,  exclaimed — "  They 
have  seen  the  Lady  of  Windeck  T'  and  recalled  the  stories  ot 
many  other  young  tnen,  who,  inveigled  by  her  devilish  arts,  had 
not  been  so  lucky  as  Wolfgang,  and  had  disappeared — for- 
ever ! 

This  adventure  bound  Wolfgang  heart  and  soul  to  his  gal- 
lant preserver  ;  and  the  archers — it  being  now  morning,  and 
the  cocks  crowing  lustily  round  about — pursued  their  way  with 
out  further  delay  to  the  castle  of  the  noble  patron  of  toxoplv 
ilites,  the  gallant  Duke  of  Cleves. 


Chapter  X. 

THE    BATTLE   OF   THE  BOWMEN. 

Although  there  lay  an  immense  number  of  castles  and 
abbeys  between  Windeck  and  Cleves,  for  every  one  of  which  the 
guide-books  have  a  legend  and  a  ghost,  who  might,  with  the  com- 
monest stretch  of  ingenuity,  be  made  to  waylay  our  adventurers 
on  the  road ;  yet,  as  the  journey  would  be  tl:us  almost  inter- 
minable, let  us  cut  it  short  by  saying  that  the  travellers  reached 
Cleves  without  any  further  accident,  and  found  the  place 
thronged  with  visitors  for  the  meeting  next  day. 

And  here  it  would  be  easy  to  describe  the  company  which 
arrived,  and  make  display  of  antiquarian  lore.  Now  we  would 
represent  a  cavalcade  of  knights  arriving,  with  their  pages 
carrying  their  chining  helms  of  gold,  and  the  stout  esquiries, 
bearers  of  lance  and  banner.  Anon  would  arrive  a  fat  abbot  on 
his  ambling  pad,  surrounded  by  the  white-robed  companions  of 
his  convent.  Here  should  come  the  gleemen  and  jongleurs,  the 
minstrels,  the  mountebanks,  the  parti-colored  gypsies,  the  dark- 
eyed,  nut-brown  Zigeunerinnen  ;  then  a  troop  of  peasants  chant 
ing  Rhine-songs,  and  leading  in  their  ox-drawn  carts  the  peach 
cheeked  girls  from  the  vine-lands.  Next  we  would  depict  the 
litters  blazoned  with  armorial  bearings,  from  between  the  broid- 
ered  curtains  of  which  peeped  out  the  swan-like  necks  and  the 
haughty  faces  of  the  blonde  ladies  of  the  castles.    But  for  these 


246  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

descriptions  we  have  not  space  ;  and  the  reader  is  referred  to 
the  account  of  the  tournament  in  the  ingenious  novel  of  "  Ivan- 
hoe,"  where  the  above  phenomena  are  described  at  length. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  Otto  and  his  companions  arrived  at  the 
town  of  Cleves,  and,  hastening  to  a  hostel,  reposed  themselves 
after  the  day's  march,  and  prepared  them  for  the  encounter  of 
the  morrow. 

That  morrow  came  :  and  as  the  sports  were  to  begin  early, 
Otto  and  his  comrades  hastened  to  the  field,  armed  with  their 
best  bows  and  arrows,  you  may  be  sure,  and  eager  to  distin- 
guish themselves  ;  as  were  the  multitude  of  other  archers  as- 
sembled. They  were  from  all  neighboring  countries — crowds 
of  English,  as  you  may  fancy,  armed  with  Murray's  guide- 
books, troops  of  chattering  Frenchmen,  Frankfort  Jews  with 
roulette-tables,  and  Tyrolese,  with  gloves  and  trinkets — all  hied 
towards  the  field  where  the  butts  were  set  up,  and  the  archery 
practice  was  to  be  held.  The  Childe  and  his  brother  archers 
were,  it  need  not  to  be  said,  early  on  the  ground. 

But  what  words  of  mine  can  describe  the  young  gentle- 
man's emotion  when,  preceded  by  a  band  of  trumpets,  bag- 
pipes, ophicleides,  and  other  wind  instruments,  the  Prince  of 
Cleves  appeared  with  the  Princess  Helen,  his  daughter  ?  And 
ah  !  what  expressions  of  my  humble  pen  can  do  justice  to  the 
beauty  of  that  young  lady  ?  Fancy  every  charm  which  decor- 
ates the  person,  every  virtue  which  ornaments  the  mind,  every 
accomplishment  which  renders  charming  mind  and  charming 
person  doubly  charming,  and  then  you  will  have  but  a  faint 
and  feeble  idea  of  the  beauties  of  her  Highness  the  Princess 
Helen.  Fancy  a  complexion  such  as  they  say  (I  know  not 
with  what  justice)  Rowland's  Kalydor  imparts  to  the  users  of 
that  cosmetic  ;  fancy  teeth  to  which  orient  pearls  are  like  Walls- 
end  coals  ;  eyes,  which  were  so  blue,  tender,  and  bright,  that 
while  they  run  you  through  with  their  lustre,  they  healed  you 
with  their  kindness  ;  a  neck  and  waist,  so  ravishingly  slender 
and  graceful,  that  the  least  that  is  said  about  them  the  better  ; 
a  foot  which  fell  upon  the  flowers  no  heavier  than  a  dewdrop — • 
and  this  charming  person  set  off  by  the  most  elegant  toilet  that 
ever  milliner  devised  !  The  lovely  Helen's  hair  (which  was  as 
black  as  the  finest  varnish  for  boots)  was  so  long,  that  it  was 
borne  on  a  cushion  several  yards  behind  her  by  the  maidens 
of  her  train;  and  a  hat,  set  off  with  moss-roses,  sunflowers, 
bugles,  birds  of  paradise,  gold  lace,  and  pink  ribbon,  gave  her 
a  (Ust'mguc  air,  which  would  have  set  the  editor  of  the  Moniiiig 
fost  mad  with  love. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BOWMEN.  247 

It  had  exactly  the  same  effect  upon  the  noble  Childe  of 
Godesberg,  as  leaning  on  his  ivory  bow,  with  his  legs  crossed, 
he  stood  and  gazed  on  her,  as  Cupid  gazed  on  Psyche.  Their 
eyes  met :  it  was  all  over  with  both  of  them.  A  blush  came  af 
one  and  the  same  minute  budding  to  the  cheek  of  either.  A 
simultaneous  throb  beat  in  those  young  hearts  !  They  loved 
each  other  forever  from  that  instant.  Otto  still  stood,  cross- 
legged,  enraptured,  leaning  on  his  ivory  bov\r ;  but  Helen,  call- 
ing to  a  maiden  for  her  pocket-handkerchief,  blew  her  beauti- 
ful Grecian  nose  in  order  to  hide  her  agitation.  Bless  ye, 
bless  ye,  pretty  ones  !  I  am  old  now  ;  but  not  so  old  but  that 
I  kindle  at  the  tale  of  love.  Theresa  MacWhirter  too  has 
lived  and  loved.     Heigho  ! 

Who  is  yon  chief  that  stands  behind  the  truck  whereon  are 
seated  the  Princess  and  the  stout  old  lord,  her  father  ?  Who 
is  he  whose  hair  is  of  the  carroty  hue  t  whose  eyes,  across  a 
snubby  bunch  of  a  nose,  are  perpetually  scowling  at  each 
other;  who  has  a  hump-back,  and  a  hideous  mouth,  surrounded 
with  bristles,  and  crammed  full  of  jutting  yellow  odiotis  teeth. 
Although  he  wears  a  sky-blue  doublet  laced  with  silver,  it  only 
serves  to  render  his  vulgar  punchy  figure  doubly  ridiculous  ; 
although  his  nether  garment  is  of  salmon-colored  velvet,  it 
only  draws  the  more  attention  to  his  legs,  which  are  disgust- 
ingly crooked  and  bandy,  A  rose-colored  hat,  with  towering 
pea-green  ostrich-plumes,  looks  absurd  on  his  bull-head  ;  and 
though  it  is  time  of  peace,  the  wretch  is  armed  with  a  multi- 
plicity of  daggers,  knives,  yataghans,  dirks,  and  sabres,  and 
scimitars,  which  testify  his  truculent  and  bloody  disposition. 
'Tis  the  terrible  Rowski  de  Donnerblitz,  Margrave  of  Eulen- 
schreckenstein.  Report  says  he  is  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  the 
lovely  Helen.  He  addresses  various  speeches  of  gallantry  to 
lier,  and  grins  hideously  as  be  thrusts  his  disgusting  head  over 
her  lily  shoulder.  But  she  turns  away  from  him  1  turns  and 
shudders — ay,  as  she  would  at  a  black  dose ! 

Otto  stands  gazing  still,  and  leaning  on  his  bow.  "  What 
is  the  prize  !  "  asks  one  archer  of  another.  There  are  two 
prizes — a  velvet  cap,  embroidered  by  the  hand  of  the  Princess, 
and  a  chain  of  massive  gold,  of  enormous  value.  Both  lie  on 
cushions  before  her. 

"  I  know  which  I  shall  choose,  when  I  win  the  first  prize," 
says  a  swarthy,  savage,  and  bandy-legged  archer,  who  bears 
the  owl  gules  on  a  black  shield,  the  cognizance  of  the  Lord 
Rowski  de  Donnerblitz. 

•'  Which^  fellow  ?  "  says  Otto,  turning  fiercely  upon  him. 


248  ^  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

"The  chain,  to  be  sure!"  says  the  leering  archer.  "You 
do  not  suppose  I  am  such  a  flat  as  as  to  choose  that  velvet 
gimcrack  there  ?  "  Otto  laughed  in  scorn,  and  began  to  pre- 
pare his  bow.  The  trumpets  sounding  proclaimed  that  the 
sports  were  about  to  commence. 

Is  it  necessary  to  describe  them  ?  No :  that  has  already 
been  done  in  the  novel  of  "■  Ivanhoe "  before  mentionecl. 
Fancy  the  archers  clad  in  Lincoln  gi"een,  all  coming  forward 
in  turn,  and  firing  at  the  targets.  Some  hit,  some  missed  ; 
those  that  missed  were  fain  to  retire  amidst  the  jeers  of  the 
multitudinous  spectators.  Those  that  hit  began  new  trials  of 
skill  ;  but  it  was  easy  to  see,  from  the  first,  that  the  battle  lay 
between  Squintoff  (the  Rowski  archer)  and  the  young  hero 
with  the  golden  hair  and  the  ivory  bow.  Squintoff 's  fame  as 
a  marskman  was  known  throughout  Europe;  but  who  was  his 
young  conijDetitor  ?  Ah  \  there  was  one  heart  in  the  assembly 
that  beat  most  anxiously  to  know.     'Twas  Helen's. 

The  crowning  trial  arrived.  The  buirs-e3'e  of  the  target, 
set  up  at  three-quarters  of  a  mile  distance  from  the  arcliers, 
was  so  small,,  that  it  required  a  very  clever  man  indeed  to  see, 
much  more  to  hit  it ;  and  as  Squintoff  was  selecting  his  arrow 
for  the  final  trial,  the  Rowski  flung  a  purse  of  gold  to^vards  his 
archer,  saying — Squintoff,  an  ye  win  the  prize,  the  purse  is 
thine."  "  I  may  as  well  pocket  it  at  once,,  your  honor,"  said 
the  bowman,  with  a  sneer  at  Otto.  "  This  young  chick,  who 
has  been  lucky  as  yet,  will  hardly  hit  such  a  mark  as  that." 
And,  taking  his  aini,  Squintoff  discharged  his  arrow  right  into 
the  very  middle  of  the  bull's-eye. 

"Can  you  mend  that,  young  springald  ?  "  said  he,  as  a 
shout  rent  the  air  at  his  success,  as  Helen  turned  pale  to  think 
that  the  champion  of  her  secret  heart  was  Hkely  to  be  over- 
come, and  as  Squintoff,  pocketing  the  Rowski's  money,  turned 
to  the  noble  boy  of  Godesberg. 

"  Has  anybody  got  a  pea  t "  asked  the  lad.  Everybodj^ 
laughed  at  his  droll  request ;  and  an  old  woman,  who  was 
selling  p>orridge  in  the  crowd,  handed  him  the  vegetable  which 
he  demanded.  It  was  a  dry  and  yellow  pea.  Otto,  stepping 
up  to  the  target,  caused  Squintoff  to  extract  his  arrow  from  the 
bull's-eye,  and  placed  in  the  orifice  made  by  the  steel  point  of 
the  shaft,  the  pea  which  he  had  received  from  the  old  woman. 
He  then  came  back  to  his  place.  As  he  prepared  to  shoot, 
Helen  was  so  overcome  by  emotion,  that  'twas  thought  she 
would  have  fainted.  Never,  never  had  she  seen  a  being  so 
beautiful  as  the  young  hero  now  before  her* 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BOWMEN. 


249 


He  looked  almost  divine.  He  flung^  back  his  long  clusters 
of  hair  from  his  bright  eyes  and  tall  forehead  ;  the  blush  of 
health  mantled  on  his  cheek,  from  which  the  barber's  weapon 
had  never  shorn  the  down.  He  took  his  bow,  and  one  of  his 
most  elegant  arrows,  and  poising  himself  lightly  on  his  right 
leg,  he  flung  himself  forward,  raising  his  left  leg  on  a  level  with 
his  ear.  He  looked  like  Apollo,  as  he  stood  balancing  himself 
there.  He  discharged  his  dart  from  the  thrumming  bowstring* 
it  clove  the  blue  air — whizz  ! 

'■''He  has  split  the  peaT''  said  the"  Princess,  and  fainted. 
The  Rowski,  with  one  eye,  hurled  an  indignant  look  at  the 
boy,  while  with  the  other  he  levelled  (if  aught  so  crooked  can 
be  said  to  level  anything)  a  furious  glance  at  his  archer. 

The  archer  swore  a  sulky  oath.  "  He  is  the  better  man  !  " 
said  he.     "  I  suppose,  young  chap,  you  take  the  gold  chain  t  " 

'■  The  gold  chain  !  "  said  Otto.  "  Prefer  a  gold  chain  to  a 
cap  worked  by  that  august  hand  .''  Never  !  "  And  advancing 
to  the  balcony  where  the  Princess,  who  now  came  to  herself, 
was  sitting,  he  kneeled  down  before  her,  and  received  the 
velvet  cap  ;  which,  blushing  as  scarlet  as  the  cap  itself,  the 
Princess  Helen  placed  on  his  golden  ringlets.  Once  more 
their  eyes  met — their  hearts  thrilfed.  They  had  never  spoken, 
but  they  knew  they  loved  each  other  forever. 

"  Wilt  thou  take  service  with  the  Rowski  of  Donnerblitz  }  " 
said  the  individual  to  the  youth.  "  Thou  shalt  be  captain  of 
my  archers  in  place  of  yon  blundering  nincompoop,  whom  thou 
hast  overcome." 

"  Yon  blundering  nincompoop  is  a  skilful  and  gallant 
archer,"  replied  Otto,  haughtily ;  and  I  will  not  take  service 
with  the  Rowski  of  Donnerblitz." 

"  Wilt  thou  enter  the  household  of  the  Prince  of  Cleves  ?  " 
said  the  father  of  Helen,  laughing,  and  not  a  little  amused  at 
the  haughtiness  of  the  humble  archer. 

"  I  would  die  for  the  Duke  of  Cleves  and  his  family^''  said 
Otto,  bowing  low.  He  laid  a  particular  and  a  tender  emphasis 
on  the  word  family.  Helen  knew  what  he  meant.  She  was 
the  family.  In  fact,  her  mother  was  no  more,  and  her  papa 
had  no  other  offspring. 

"What  is  thy  name,  good  fellow,"  said  the  Prince,  "that 
my  steward  may  enrol  thee  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  said  Otto,  again  blushing,  "  I  am  Otto  the 
Archer." 


250  ^  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    MARTYR    OF    LOVE. 

The  archers  who  had  travelled  in  company  with  young 
Otto,  gave  a  handsome  dinner  \x\  compliment  to  the  success  of 
our  hero  ;  at  which  his  friend  distinguished  himself  as  usual  in 
the  eating  and  drinknig  department.  Squintoff,  the  Rowski 
bowman,  declined  to  attend  :  so  great  was  the  envy  of  the  brute 
at  the  youthful  hero's  superiority.  As  for  Otto  himself,  he  sat 
on  the  right  hand  of  the  chairman  ;  but  it  was  remarked  that 
he  could  not  eat.  Gentle  reader  of  my  page  !  thou  knowest 
why  full  well.  He  was  too  much  in  love  to  have  any  appetite  ; 
for  though  I  myself  when  laboring  under  that  passion,  never 
found  my  consumption  of  victuals  diminish,  yet  remember  our 
Otto  was  a  hero  of  romance,  and  they  never  are  hungry  when 
they're  in  love. 

The  next  day,  the  young  gentleman  proceeded  to  enrol  him- 
self in  the  corps  of  Archers  of  the  Prince  of  Cleves,  and  with 
him  came  his  attached  squire,  who  vowed  he  never  would  leave 
him.  As  Otto  threw  aside  his  own  elegant  dress,  and  donned 
the  livery  of  the  House  of  Cleves,  the  noble  Childe  sighed  not 
a  little.  'Twas  a  splendid  uniform  'tis  true,  but  still  it  zvas  a 
livery,  and  one  of  his  proud  spirit  ill  bears  another's  cogniz- 
ances. "  They  are  the  colors  of  the  Princess,  however,"  said 
he,  consoling  himself ;  "  and  what  suffering  would  I  not  under- 
go for  her '^  "  As  for  Wolfgang,  the  squire,  it  may  well  be  sup- 
posed that  the  good-natured,  low-born  fellow  had  no  such 
scruples  ;  but  he  was  glad  enough  to  exchange  for  the  pink 
hose,  the  yellow  jacket,  the  pea-green  cloak,  and  orange-tawny 
hat,  with  which  the  Duke's  steward  supplied  him,  the  homely 
patched  doublet  of  green  which  he  had  worn  for  years  past. 

"  Look  at  yon  two  archers,"  said  the  Prince  of  Cleves  to 
his  guest  the  Rowski  of  DonnerbHtz,  as  they  were  strolling  on 
the  battlements  after  dinner,  smoking  their  cigars  as  usual. 
His  Highness  pointed  to  our  two  young  friends,  who  were 
mounting  guard  for  the  first  time.  "  See  yon  two  bowmen — • 
mark  their  bearing !  One  is  the  youth  who  beat  thy  Squintoff, 
and  t'other,  an  I  mistake  not,  won  the  third  prize  at  the  butts. 
Botli  wear  the  same  uniform — the  colors  of  my  house — yet, 
would'st  not  swear  that  the  one  was  but  a  churl,  and  the  other 
a  noble  gentleman  "i  " 


THE  MA RTYR  OF  LO  VE.  251 

"  Which  looks  like  the  nobleman  ? "  said  the  Rowski,  as 
black  as  thunder. 

"  Which  ?  why,  young  Otto,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  Princess 
Helen,  eagerly.  The  young  lady  was  following  the  pair  ;  but 
under  pretence  of  disliking  the  odor  of  the  cigar,  she  had  re- 
fused the  Rowski's  proffered  arm,  and  was  loitering  behind  with 
her  parasol. 

Her  interposition  in  favor  of  her  young  protege'  only  made 
the  black  and  jealous  Rowski  more  ill-humored.  How  long  is 
it,  Sir  Prince  of  Cleves,"  said  he,  "  that  the  churls  who  wear 
your  livery  permit  themselves  to  wear  the  ornaments  of  noble 
knights  ?  Who  but  a  noble  dare  wear  ringlets  such  as  yon 
springald's  ?  Ho,  archer  !  "  roared  he,  "  come  hither,  fellow." 
And  Otto  stood  before  him.  As  he  came,  and  presenting  arms 
stood  respectfully  before  the  Prince  and  his  savage  guest,  he 
looked  for  one  moment  at  the  lovely  Helen — their  eyes  met, 
their  hearts  beat  simultaneously :  and,  quick,  two  little  blushes 
appeared  in  the  cheek  of  either.  I  have  seen  one  ship  at  sea 
answering  another's  signal  so. 

While  they  are  so  regarding  each  other,  let  us  just  remind 
our  readers  of  the  great  estimation  in  which  the  hair  was  held 
in  the  North.  Only  nobles  were  permitted  to  wear  it  long. 
When  a  man  disgraced  himself,  a  shaving  was  sure  to  follow. 
Penalties  were  inflicted  upon  villains  or  vassals  who  sported 
ringlets.  See  the  works  of  Aurelius  Tonsor ;  Hirsutus  de 
Nobilitate  Capillar!;  Rolandus  de  Oleo  Macassari ;  Schnurr- 
bart :  Frisirische  Alterthumskunde,  &c. 

"We  must  have  those  ringlets  of  thine  cut,  good  fellow," 
said  the  Duke  of  Cleves  good-naturedly,  but  wishing  to  spare 
the  feelings  of  his  gallant  recruit,  "  'Tis  against  the  regula- 
tion cut  of  my  archer  guard." 

"  Cut  off  my  hair  !  "  crid  Otto,  agonized. 

"  Ay,  and  thine  ears  with  it,  yokel,"  roared  Donnerblitz. 

"  Peace,  noble  Eulenschrekenstein,"  said  the  Duke  with 
dignity  :  "  let  the  Duke  of  Cleves  deal  as  he  will  with  his  own 
men-at-arms.  And  you,  young  sir,  unloose  the  grip  of  thy 
dagger." 

Otto,  indeed,  had  convulsively  grasped  his  snickersnee,  with 
intent  to  plunge  it  into  the  heart  of  the  Rowski ;  but  his  politer 
feelings  overcame  him.  "  The  count  need  not  fear,  my  lord," 
said  he  :  "  a  lady  is  present."  And  he  took  off  his  orange- 
tawny  cap  and  bowed  low.  Ah  !  what  a  pang  shot  through  the 
heart  of  Helen,  as  she  thought  that  those  lovely  ringlets  must 
be  shorn  from  that  beautiful  head  ! 


252 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


Otto's  mind  was,  too,  in  commotion.  His  feelings  as  a  gen- 
tleman— let  us  add,  his  pride  as  a  man — for  who  is  not,  let  us 
ask,  proud  of  a  good  head  of  hair  ? — waged  war  within  his  soul. 
He  expostulated  with  the  Prince.  "  It  was  never  in  my  con- 
templation," he  said,  "on  taking  service,  to  undergo  the  oper- 
ation of  hair-cutting." 

"Thou  art  free  to  go  or  stay.  Sir  Archer,"  said  the  Prince 
pettishly.  "  I  will  have  no  churls  imitating  noblemen  in  my 
service  :  I  will  bandy  no  conditions  with  Archers  of  my  guard." 

"My  resolve  is  taken,"  said  Otto,  irritated  too  in  his  turn. 
»<  I  will     *     *     ^     * " 

"What?"  cried  Helen,  breathless  with  intense  agitation. 

"  I  will  stay,"  answered  Otto,  The  poor  girl  almost  fainted 
with  joy.  The  Rowski  frowned  with  demoniac  fury,  and  grind- 
ing his  teeth  and  cursing  in  the  horrible  German  jargon,  stalked 
away,  "  So  be  it,"  said  the  Prince  of  Cleves,  taking  his  daugh- 
ter's arm — "  and  here  comes  Snipwitz,  my  barber,  who  shall 
do  the  business  for  you."  With  this  the  Prince  too  moved  on, 
feeling  in  his  heart  not  a  little  compassion  for  the  lad  ;  for 
Adolf  of  Cleves  had  been  handsome  in  his  youth,  and  dis- 
tinguished for  the  ornament  of  which  he  was  now  depriving  his 
archer. 

Snipwitz  led  the  poor  boy  into  a  side-room,  and  there — in 
a  word — operated  upon  him.  The  golden  curls — fair  curls 
that  his  mother  had  so  often  played  with  ! — fell  under  the 
shears  and  round  the  lad's  knees,  until  he  looked  as  if  he  was 
sitting  in  a  bath  of  sunbeams. 

When  the  frightful  act  had  been  performed,  Otto,  who  en- 
tered the  little  chamber  in  the  tower  ringleted  like  Apollo, 
issued  from  it  as  cropped  as  a  charity-boy. 

See  how  melancholy  he  looks,  now  that  the  operation  is 
over  ! — And  no  wonder.  He  was  thinking  what  would  be 
Helen's  opinion  of  him,  now  that  one  of  his  chief  personal  or- 
naments was  gone.  "  Will  she  know  me  .''  "  thought  he  ;  "  will 
she  love  me  after  this  hideous  mutilation  ?  " 

Yielding  to  these  gloomy  thoughts,  and,  indeed,  rather  un- 
willing to  be  seen  by  his  comrades,  now  that  he  was  so  dis- 
figured, the  young  gentleman  had  hidden  himself  behind  one  of 
the  buttresses  of  the  wall,  a  prey  to  natural  despondency  ;  when 
he  saw  something  whicli  instantly  restored  him  to  good  spirits. 
He  saw  the  lovely  Ilelcn  coming  towards  the  chamber  where 
the  odious  barber  had  performed  upon  him, — coming  forward 
timidly,  looking  round  her  anxiously,  blushing  with  delightful 
agitation,  —  and  presently  seeing,  as  she  thought,  the  coast 


THE  MARTYR  OF  LOVE. 


253 


clear,  she  entered  the  apartment.  She  stooped  down,  and  ah  1 
what  was  Otto's  joy  when  he  saw  her  pick  up  a  beautiful  golden 
lock  of  his  hair,  press  it  to  her  Ups,  and  then  hide  it  in  her 
bosom  !  No  carnation  ever  blushed  so  redly  as  Helen  did 
when  she  came  out  after  performing  this  feat.  Then  she  hur- 
ried straightway  to  her  own  apartments  in  the  castle,  and  Otto, 
whose  first  impulse  was  to  come  out  from  his  hiding-place,  and, 
falling  at  her  feet,  call  heaven  and  earth  to  witness  to  his  pas- 
sion, with  difHculty  restrained  his  feelings  and  let  her  pass : 
but  the  love-stricken  young  hero  was  so  delighted  with  this 
evident  proof  of  reciprocated  attachment,  that  all  regret  at 
losing  his  ringlets  at  once  left  him,  and  he  vowed  he  would 
sacrifice  not  only  his  hair,  but  his  head,  if  need  were,  to  do 
her  service. 

That  very  afternoon,  no  small  bustle  and  conversation  took 
place  in  the  castle,  on  account  of  the  sudden  departure  of  the 
Rowski  of  Eulenschreckenstein,  with  all  his  train  and  equipage. 
He  went  away  in  the  greatest  wrath,  it  was  said,  after  a  long 
and  loud  conversation  with  the  Prince.  As  that  potentate  con- 
ducted his  guest  to  the  gate,  walking  rather  demurely  and 
shamefacedly  by  his  side,  as  he  gathered  his  attendants  in  the 
court,  and  there  mounted  his  charger,  the  Rowski  ordered  his 
trumpets  to  sound,  and  scornfully  flung  a  largesse  of  gold 
among  the  servitors  and  men-at-arms  of  the  House  of  Cleves, 
who  were  marshalled  in  the  court.  "  Farewell,  Sir  Prince," 
said  he  to  his  host :  "  I  quit  you  now  suddenly  ;  but  remember, 
it  is  not  my  last  visit  to  the  Castle  of  Cleves."  And  ordering 
his  band  to  play  "  See  the  Conquering  Hero  comes,"  he  clat- 
tered away  through  the  drawbridge.  The  Princess  Helen  was 
not  present  at  his  departure  ;  and  the  venerable  Prince  of 
Cleves  looked  rather  moody  and  chop-fallen  when  his  guest  left 
him. — He  visited  all  the  castle  defences  pretty  accurately  that 
night,  and  inquired  of  his  officers  the  state  of  the  ammunition, 
provisions,  &:c.  He  said  nothing ;  but  the  Princess  Helen's 
maid  did  :  and  everybody  knew  that  the  Rowski  had  made  his 
proposals,  had  been  rejected,  and,  getting  up  in  a  violent  fury, 
had  called  on  his  people,  and  sworn  by  his  great  gods  that  he 
would  not  enter  the  castle  again  until  he  rode  over  the  breech, 
lance  in  hand,  the  conqueror  of  Cleves  and  all  belonging  to  it. 

No  little  consternation  was  spread  through  the  garrison  at 
the  news  :  for  everybody  knew  the  Rowski  to  be  one  of  the 
most  intrepid  and  powerful  soldiers  in  all  Germany, — one  of 
the  most  skilful  generals.  Generous  to  extravagance  to  his 
own  followers,  lie  wa3  ruthless  to  the  enemy  :  a  liundred  :  tories 


254 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 


were  told  of  the  dreadful  barbarities  exercised  by  him  in  several 
towns  and  castles  which  he  had  captured  and  sacked.  And 
poor  Helen  had  the  pain  of  thinking,  that  in  consequence  ol: 
her  refusal  she  was  dooming  all  the  men,  women,  and  children 
of  the  principality  to  indiscriminate  and  horrible  slaughter. 

The  dreadful  surmises  regarding  a  war  received  in  a  few 
days  dreadful  confirmation.  It  was  noon,  and  the  worthy 
Prince  of  Cleves  was  taking  his  dinner  (though  the  honest 
warrior  had  had  little  appetite  for  that  meal  for  some  time  past), 
when  truu'pets  were  heard  at  the  gate ;  and  presently  the 
herald  of  the  Rowski  of  Donnerblitz,  clad  in  a  tabard  on  which 
the  arms  of  the  Count  were  blazoned,  entered  the  dining-hall. 
A  page  bore  a  steel  gauntlet  on  a  cushion  ;  Bleu  Sanglier  had 
his  hat  on  his  head.  The  Prince  of  Cleves  put  on  his  own,  as 
the  herald  came  up  to  the  chair  of  state  where  the  sovereign 
sat. 

"  Silence  for  Bleu  Sanglier,"  cried  the  Prince,  gravely. 
"  Say  your  say,  Sir  Herald." 

"  In  the  name  of  the  high  and  mighty  Rowski,  Prince  of 
Donnerblitz,  Margrave  of  Eulenschreckenstein,  Count  of  Kr5- 
tenwald,  Schnauzestadt,  and  Galgenhiigel,  Hereditary  Grand 
Corkscrew  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire — to  you,  Adolf  the 
Twenty-third,  Prince  of  Cleves,  I,  Bleu  Sanglier,  .bring  war  and 
defiance.  Alone,  and  lance  to  lance,  or  twenty  to  twenty  in 
field  or  in  fort,  on  plain  or  on  mountain,  the  noble  Rowski 
defies  you.  Here,  or  wherever  he  shall  meet  you,  he  proclaims 
war  to  the  death  between  you  and  him.  In  token  whereof  here 
is  his  glove."  And  taking  the  steel  glove  from  the  page,  Bleu 
Boar  flung  it  clanging  on  the  marble  floor. 

The  Princess  Helen  turned  deadly  pale  :  but  the  Prince, 
with  a  good  assurance,  flung  down  his  own  glove,  calling  upon 
some  one  to  raise  the  Rowski's  ;  which  Otto  accordingly  took 
up  and  presented  to  him,  on  his  knee. 

"  Boteler,  fill  my  goblet,"  said  the  Prince  to  that  functionary, 
who,  clothed  in  tight  black  hose,  with  a  white  kerchief,  and  a 
napkin  on  his  dexter  arm,  stood  obsequiously  by  his  master's 
chair.  The  goblet  was  filled  with  Malvoisie  :  it  held  about 
three  quarts  ;  a  precious  golden  hanap  carved  by  the  cunning 
artificer,  Benvenuto  the  Florentine. 

"  Drink,  Bleu  Sanglier,"  said  the  Prince,  "  and  put  the  gob- 
let in  thy  bosom.  Wear  this  chain,  furthermore,  for  my  sake." 
And  so  saying,  Prince  Adolf  flung  a  precious  chain  of  emeralds 
round  the  herald's  neck.  ''  An  invitation  to  battle  was  ever  a 
welcome  call  to  Adolf  of  C'leves."     So  saying,  anil  Ividding  Iiis 


THE  MARTYR  OF  LOVE. 


25s 


people  take  good  care  of  Bleu  Sanglier's  retinue,  the  Prince 
left  the  hall  with  his  daughter.  All  were  marvelling  at  his 
dignity,  courage,  and  generosity. 

But,  though  affecting  unconcern,  the  mind  of  Prince  Adolf 
was  far  from  tranquil.  He  was  no  longer  the  stalwart  knight 
who,  in  the  reign  of  Stanislaus  Augustus,  had,  with  his  naked 
fist,  beaten  a  lion  to  death  in  three  minutes  j  and  alone  had 
kept  the  postern  of  Peterwaradin  for  two  hours  against  seven 
hundred  Turkish  janissaries,  who  were  assailing  it.  Those 
deeds  which  had  made  the  heir  of  Cleves  famous  were  done 
thirty  years  syne.  A  free  liver  since  he  had  come  into  his 
principality,  and  of  a  lazy  turn,  he  had  neglected  the  athletic 
exercises  which  had  made  him  in  youth  so  famous  a  champion, 
and  indolence  had  borne  its  usual  fruits.  He  tried  his  old 
battle-sword — that  famous  blade  with  which,  in  Palestine,  he 
had  cut  an  elephant-driver  in  two  pieces,  and  split  asunder  the 
skull  of  the  elephant  which  he 'rode,  Adolf  of  Cleves  could 
scarcely  now  lift  the  weapon  over  his  head.  He  tried  his 
armor.  It  was  too  tight  for  him.  And  the  old  soldier  burst 
into  tears,  when  he  found  he  could  not  buckle  it.  Such  a  man 
was  not  fit  to  encounter  the  terrible  Rowski  in  single  combat. 

Nor  could  he  hope  to  make  head  against  him  for  any  time 
m  the  field.  The  Prince's  territories  were  small ;  his  vassals 
proverbially  lazy  and  peaceable  ;  his  treasury  empty.  The 
dismallest  prospects  were  before  him  :  and  he  passed  a  sleep- 
less night  writing  to  his  friends  for  succor,  and  calculating 
with  his  secretary  the  small  amount  of  the  resources  which  he 
could  bring  to  aid  him  against  his  advancing  and  powerful 
enemy. 

Helen's  pillow  that  evening  was  also  unvisited  by  slumber. 
She  lay  awake  thinking  of  Otto, — thinking  of  the  danger  and 
the  ruin  her  refusal  to  marry  had  brought  upon  her  dear  joapa. 
Otto,  too,  slept  not  :  but  his  waking  thoughts  were  brilliant  and 
heroic  :  the  noble  Childe  thought  how  he  should  defend  the 
princess,  and  win  los  and  honor  in  the  ensuing  combat. 


2^5  ^  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE, 

Chapter  XII. 

the    champion. 

And  now  the  noble  Cleves  began  in  good  earnest  to  prepai  e 
his  castle  for  the   threatened  siege.     He  gathered  in  all  the 
available  cattle  round  the  property,  and  the  pigs  round  many 
miles  ;  and  a  dreadful  slaughter  of  horned  and  snouted  animals 
took  place, — the   whole  castle   resounding  with  the   lowing  of 
the  oxen  and  the  squeaks  of  the  gruntlings,  destined  to  provide 
food  for  the  garrison.     These,  when  slain,  (her  gentle  spirit,  of 
course,  would   not  allow  of  her  witnessing  that   disagreeable 
operation,)  the  lovely  Helen,  with  the  assistance  of  her  maidens, 
carefully  salted  and  pickled.     Corn  was  brought  in   in  great 
quantities,  the  Prince  paying  for  the  same  when  he  had  money, 
giving  bills  when  he  could  get  credit,  or  occasionally,  marry,  send- 
ing out  a  few  stout  men-at-arms  to  forage,  who  brought  in  wheat 
without  money  or  credit  either.     The  charming  Princess,  amidst 
the  intervals  of  her  labors,  went  about  encouraging  the  gar- 
rison, who  vowed  to  a  man  they  would  die  for  a  single  sweet 
smile  of  hers  ;  and  in  order  to  make  their  inevitable  sufferings 
as  easy  as  possible  to  the  gallant  fellows,  she  and  the  apothe- 
caries got  ready  a  plenty  of  efficacious  simples,  and  scraped 
a  vast  quantity  of   lint   to  bind   their  warriors'  wounds  uiihal. 
All  the  fortifications  were  strengthened  ;  the  fosses  carefully 
filled  with  spikes  and  water;  large  stones  placed  over  the  gates, 
convenient  to  tumble  on  the   heads  of  the  assaulting  parties ; 
and  cauldrons  prepared,  with  furnaces  to  melt  up  pitch,  brim- 
stone, boiling  oil,  &c ,  wherewith  hospitably  to  receive  them. 
Having  the  keenest  eye  in  the  whole  garrison,  young  Otto  was 
placed  on  the  topmost  tower,  to  watch  for  the  expected  coming 
of  the  beleaguering  host. 

They  were  seen  only  too  soon.  Long  ranks  of  shining 
spears  were  seen  glittering  in  the  distance,  and  the  army  of  the 
Rowski  soon  made  its  appearance  in  battle's  magnificently  stern 
array.  The  tents  of  the  renowned  chief  and  his  numerous  war- 
riors were  pitched  out  of  arrow  shot  of  the  castle,  but  in  fearful 
proximity  ;  and  when  his  army  had  taken  up  its  position,  an 
officer  with  a  flag  of  truce  and  a  trumpet  was  seen  advancing 
to  the  castle  gate.  Tt  was  the  same  herald  who  had  previously 
borne  his  masters  defiance  to  ihe  Prince  of  Cleves.     lie  came 


THE  CHAMPION. 


257 


once  more  to  the  castle  gate,  and  there  proclaimed  that  the  noble 
Count  of  Eulenschreckenstein  was  in  arms  without,  ready  to  da 
battle  with  the  Prince  of  Cleves,  or  his  chamj^ion ;  that  he 
would  remain  in  arms  for  three  days,  ready  for  combat.  If  no 
man  met  Jiim  at  the  end  of  that  period,  he  would  deliver  an  as- 
sault, and  would  give  quarter  to  no  single  soul  in  the  garrison. 
So  saying,  the  herald  nailed  his  lord's  gauntlet  on  the  castle 
gate.  As  before,  the  Prince  flung  him  over  another  glove  from 
the  wall ;  though  how  he  was  to  defend  himself  from  such  a 
warrior,  or  get  a  champion,  or  resist  the  pitiless  assault  that 
must  follow,  the  troubled  old  nobleman  knew  not  in  the  least. 

The  Princess  Helen  passed  the  night  in  the  chapel,  vowing 
tons  of  wax-candles  to  all  the  patron  saints  of  the  House  of 
Cleves,  if  they  would  raise  her  up  a  defender. 

But  how  did  the  noble  girl's  heart  sink — how  were  her 
notions  of  the  purity  of  man  shaken  within  her  gentle  bosom,  by 
the  dread  intelligence  which  reached  her  the  next  morning,  after 
the  defiance  of  the  Rowski !  At  roll-call  it  was  discovered  that 
he  on  whom  she  principally  relied — he  whom  her  fond  heart 
had  singled  out  as  her  champion,  had  proved  faithless  !  Otto, 
the  degenerate  Otto,  had  fled  !  His  comrade,  Wolfgang,  had 
gone  with  him.  A  rope  was  found  dangling  from  the  casement 
of  their  cliamber,  and  they  must  have  swum  the  moat  and 
passed  over  to  the  enemy  in  the  darkness  of  the  previous  night. 
"  A  pretty  lad  was  this  fair-spoken  archer  of  thine  !  "  said  the 
Prince  her  father  to  her;  "and  a  pretty  kettle  offish  hast  thou 
cooked  for  the  fondest  of  fathers."  She  retired  weeping  to 
her  apartment.  Never  before  had  tliat  young  heart  felt  so 
wretched. 

That  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  as  they  were  going  to  break- 
fast, the  Rowski's  trumpets  sounded.  Clad  in  complete  armor, 
and  mounted  on  his  enormous  piebald  charger,  he  came  out  of 
his  pavilion,  and  rode  slowly  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  castle. 
He  was  ready  there  to  meet  a  champion. 

Three  times  each  day  did  the  odious  trumpet  sound  the 
same  notes  of  defiance.  Thrice  daily  did  the  steel-clad  Rowski 
come  forth  challenging  the  combat.  The  first  day  passed,  and 
there  was  no  answer  to  his  summons.  The  second  day  came 
and  went,  but  no  champion  had  risen  to  defend.  The  taunt  of 
his  shrill  clarion  remained  without  answer,  and  the  sun  went 
down  upon  the  wretchedest  father  and  daughter  in  all  the  land 
of  Christendom. 

The  trumpets  sounded  an  hour  after  sunrise,  an  hour  after 
noon,  and  an  hour  before  sunset.     The  third  day  came,  but 


2^8  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

with  it  brought  no  hope.  The  first  and  second  summons  met 
no  response.  At  five  o'clock  the  old  Prince  called  his  daughter 
and  blessed  her,  "  I  go  to  meet  this  Rowski,"  said  he.  "  It 
may  be  we  shall  meet  no  more,  my  Helen — my  child — the  in- 
nocent cause  of  all  this  grief.  If  I  shall  fall  to-night  the 
Rowski's  victim,  'twill  be  that  life  is  nothing  without  honor." 
And  so  saying,  he  put  into  her  hands  a  dagger,  and  bade  her 
sheathe  it  in  her  own  breast  so  soon  as  the  terrible  champion 
had  carried  the  castle  by  storm. 

This  Helen  most  faithfully  promised  to  do ;  and  her  aged 
father  retired  to  his  armory,  and  donned  his  ancient  war- 
Avorn-corselet.  It  had  borne  the  shock  of  a  thousand  lances 
ere  this,  but  it  was  now  so  tight  as  almost  to  choke  the  knightly 
wearer. 

The  last  trumpet  sounded — tantara  !  tantara  ! — its  shrill 
call  rang  over  the  wide  plains,  and  the  wide  plains  gave  back 
no  answer.  Again  ! — but  when  its  notes  died  away,  there  was 
only  a  mournful,  an  awful  silence.  "  Farewell,  my  child,"  said 
the  Prince,  bulkily  lifting  himself  into  his  battle-saddle.  "  Re- 
member the  dagger.  Hark  !  the  trumpet  sounds  for  the  third 
time.  Open,  warders  !  Sound,  trumpeters  i  and  good  St.  Ben- 
digo  guard  the  right." 

But  Puffendorff,  the  trumpeter,  had  not  leisure  to  lift  the 
trumpet  to  his  lips  :  when,  hark  !  from  without  there  came 
another  note  of  another  clarion  ! — a  distant  note  at  first,  then 
swelling  fuller.  Presently,  in  brilliant  variations,  the  full  rich 
notes  of  the  "  Huntsman's  Chorus "  came  clearly  over  the 
breeze ;  and  a  thousand  voices  of  the  crowd  gazing  over  the 
gate  exclaimed,  "  A  champion  !  a  champion  1 " 

And,  indeed,  a  champion  had  come.  Issuing  from  the 
forest  came  a  knight  and  squire  :  the  knight  gracefully  cantering 
an  elegant  cream-colored  Arabian  of  prodigious  power — the 
squire  mounted  on  an  unpretending  gray  cob  ;  which,  never- 
theless, was  an  animal  of  considerable  strength  and  sinew.  It 
Avas  the  squire  who  blew  the  trumpet,  through  the  bars  of  his 
helmet ;  the  knight's  visor  was  completely  down.  A  small 
prince's  coronet  of  gold,  from  which  rose  three  pink  ostrich- 
feathers,  marked  the  warrior's  rank:  bis  blank  shield  bore  no 
cognizance.  As  gracefully  poising  his  lance  he  rode  into  the 
green  space  where  the  Rowski's  tents  were  pitched,  the  hearts 
of  all  present  beat  with  anxiety,  anvl  the  poor  Prince  of  Cleves, 
especially,  had  considerable  doubts  about  his  new  champion. 
"  So  slim  a  figure  as  tliat  can  never  compete  with  Donnerblitz," 
said  he,  moodily,  to  his  daughter ^  "but  whoever  he  be,  the 


THE  CHAMPION. 


'59 


fellow  puts  a  good  face  on  it,  and  rides  like  a  man.  See,  he 
has  touched  the  Rowski's  shield  with  the  point  of  his  lance  ! 
By  St.  Bendigo,  a  perilous  venture  !  " 

The  unknown  knight  had  indeed  defied  the  Rowski  to  the 
death,  as  the  Prince  of  Cleves  remarked  from  the  battlement 
where  he  and  his  daughter  stood  to  witness  the  combat ;  and 
so,  having  defied  his  enemy,  the  Incognito  galloped  round  under 
the  castle  wall,  bowing  elegantly  to  the  lovely  Princess  there, 
and  then  took  his  ground  and  waited  for  the  foe.  His  armor 
blazed  in  the  sunshine  as  he  sat  there,  motionless,  on  his  cream- 
colored  steed.  He  looked  like  one  of  those  fairy  knights  one 
has  read  of — one  of  those  celestial  champions  who  decided  so 
many  victories  before  the  invention  of  gunpowder. 

The  Rowski's  horse  was  speedily  brought  to  the  door  of  his 
pavilion  ;  and  that  redoubted  warrior,  blazing  in  a  suit  of  mag^ 
nificent  brass  armor,  clattered  into  his  saddle.  Long  waves 
of  blood-red  feathers  bristled  over  his  helmet,  which  was  farther 
ornamented  by  two  huge  horns  of  the  aurochs.  His  lance  was 
painted  white  and  red,  and  he  whirled  the  prodigious  beam  in 
the  air  and  cauglit  it  with  savage  glee.  He  laughed  when  he 
saw  the  slim  form  of  his  antagonist ;  and  his  soul  rejoiced  to 
meet  the  coming  battle.  He  dug  his  spurs  into  the  enormous 
horse  he  rode  :  the  enormous  horse  snorted,  and  squealed,  too, 
with  fierce  pleasure.  He  jerked  and  curvetted  him  with  a 
brutal  playfulness,  and  after  a  few  minutes'  turning  and  wheel- 
ing, during  which  everybody  had  leisure  to  admire  the  perfec- 
tion of  his  equitation,  he  cantered  round  to  a  point  exactly 
opposite  his  enemy,  and  pulled  up  his  impatient  chager. 

The  old  Prince  on  the  battlement  was  so  eager  for  the  com- 
bat that  he  seemed  quite  to  forget  the  danger  which  menaced 
himself,  should  his  slim  champion  be  discomfited  by  the  tremen- 
dous Knight  of  Donnerblitz.  "  Go  it !  "  said  he,  flinging  his 
truncheon  into 'the  ditch;  and  at  the  word,  the  two  warriors 
rushed  with  whirling  rapidity  at  each  other. 

And  now  ensued  a  combat  so  terrible,  that  a  weak  female 
hand,  like  that  of  her  who  pens  this  tale  of  chivalry,  can  never 
hope  to  do  justice  to  the  terrific  theme.  You  have  seen  two 
engines  on  the  Great  Western  line  rush  past  each  other  with  a 
pealing  scream  ?  So  rapidly  did  the  two  warriors  gallop  towards 
one  another  ;  the  feathers  of  either  streamed  yards  behind  their 
backs  as  they  converged.  Their  shock  as  they  met  was  as  that 
of  two  cannon-balls  ;  the  mighty  horses  trembled  and  reeled 
with  the  concussion  ;  the  lance  aimed  at  the  Rowski's  helmet 
bore  off  the  coronet,  the  horns,  the  helmet  itself^  and  hurled 


26o  A  LEGEND  OF  THE  Rff/NE. 

them  to  an  incredible  distance  :  a  piece  of  the  Rowski's  left 
ear  was  carried  off  on  the  point  of  the  nameless  warrior's 
weapon.  How  had  he  fared  ?  His  adversary's  weapon  had 
glanced  harmless  along  the  blank  surface  of  his  polished  buck-- 
ler ;  and  the  victory  so  far  was  with  him. 

The  expression  of  the  Rowski's  face,  as,  bareheaded,  he 
glared  on  his  enemy  with  fierce  bloodshot  eyeballs,  was  one 
worthy  of  a  demon.  The  imprecatory  expressions  which  he 
made  use  of  can  never  be  copied  by  a  feminine  pen. 

His  opponent  magnanimously  declined  to  take  advantage 
of  the  opportunity  thus  offered  him  of  finishing  the  combat  by 
splitting  his  opponent's  skull  with  his  curtal-axe,  and,  riding 
back  to  his  starting-place,  bent  his  lance's  point  to  the  ground, 
in  token  that  he  would  wait  until  the  Count  of  Eulenschrecken- 
stein  was  helmeted  afresh. 

"  Blessed  Bendigo  !  "  cried  the  Prince,  "  thou  art  a  gallant 
lance  ;  but  why  didst  not  rap  the  Schelm's  brain  out.-"  " 

"  Bring  me  a  fresh  helmet !  "  yelled  the  Rowski.  Another 
casque  was  brought  to  him  by  his  trembling  squire. 

As  soon  as  he  had  braced  it,  he  drew  his  great  flashing 
sword  from  liis  side,  and  rushed  at  his  enemy,  roaring  hoarsely 
his  cry  of  battle.  The  unknown  knight's  sword  was  unsheathed 
in  a  moment,  and  at  the  next  the  two  blades  were  clanking  to- 
gether the  dreadful  music  of  the  combat  ! 

The  Donnerblitz  wielded  his  with  his  usual  savageness  and 
activity.  It  whirled  round  his  adversary's  head  with  frightful 
rapidity.  Now  it  carried  away  a  feather  of  his  plume  ;  now  it 
shore  off  a  leaf  of  his  coronet.  The  flail  of  the  thrasher  does 
not  fall  more  swiftly  upon  the  corn.  For  many  minutes  it  was 
the  Unknown's  only  task  to  defend  himself  from  the  tremendous 
activity  of  the  enemy. 

But  even  the  Rowski's  strength  would  slacken  after  exer- 
tion. The  blows  began  to  fall  less  thick  anon,  and  the  point  of 
the  unknown  knight  began  to  make  dreadful  play.  It  found 
and  penetrated  ever}'^  joint  of  the  Donnerblitz's  armor.  Now 
it  nicked  him  in  the  shoulder,  where  the  vambrace  was  buckled 
to  the  corselet ;  now  it  bored  a  shrewd  hole  vuider  the  light 
brassart,  and  blood  followed  ;  now  with  fatal  dexterity,  it  darted 
through  the  visor,  and  came  back  to  the  recover  deeply  tinged 
with  blood.  A  scream  of  rage  followed  the  last  thrust  ;  and  no 
wonder  : — it  had  penetrated  the  Rowski's  left  eye. 

His  blood  was  trickling  through  a  dozen  orifices;  he  was 
almost  choking  in  his  helmet  with  loss  of  breath,  and  loss  of 
blood,  and  rage.     Gasping  with  fury,  he  drew  back  his  horse, 


THE  MARRIAGE.  261 

fluna  his  great  sword  at  his  opponent's  head,  and  once  mora 
plunged  at  him,  wielding  his  curtal-axe. 

Then  you  should  have  seen  the  unknown  knight  employing 
the  same  dreadful  weapon  !  Hitherto  he  had  been  on  his  de- 
fence :  now  he  began  the  attack  ;  and  the  gleaming  axe  whirred 
in  his  hand  like  a  reed,  but  descended  like  a  thunderbolt ! 
"Yield!  yield!  Sir  Rowski,"  shouted  he,  in  a  calm,  clear 
voice. 

A  blow  dealt  madly  at  his  head  was  the  reply.  'Twas  the 
last  blow  that  the  Count  of  Eulenschreckenstein  ever  struck  in 
battle !  The  curse  was  on  his  lips  as  the  crushing  steel 
descended  into  his  brain,  and  split  it  in  two.  He  rolled  like  a 
log  front  his  horse  :  his  enemy's  knee  was  in  a  moment  on  his 
chest,  and  the  dagger  of  mercy  at  his  throat,  as  the  knight  once 
more  called  upon  him  to  yield. 

But  there  was  no  answer  from  within  the  helmet.  When  it 
was  withdrawn,  the  teeth  were  crunched  together  ;  the  mouth 
that  should  have  spoken,  grinned  a  ghastly  silence  :  one  eye 
still  glared  with  hate  and  fury,  but  it  was  glazed  with  the  film 
of  death ! 

The  red  orb  of  the  sun  was  just  then  dipping  into  the 
Rhine.  The  unknown  knight,  vaulting  once  more  into  his  sad- 
dle, made  a  graceful  obeisance  to  the  Prince  of  Cleves  and  his 
daughter,  without  a  word,  and  galloped  back  into  the  forest, 
whence  he  had  issued  an  hour  before  sunset. 


Chapter  XHI. 
the    marriage. 


The  consternation  which  ensued  on  the  death  of  the  Row- 
ski,  speedily  sent  all  his  camp-followers,  army,  &c,,  to  the  right- 
about. They  struck  their  tents  at  the  first  news  of  his  dis- 
comfiture ;  and  each  man  laying  hold  of  what  he  could,  tlie 
whole  of  the  gallant  force  which  had  marched  under  his  banner 
in  the  morning  had  disappeared  ere  the  sun  rose. 

On  that  night,  as  it  may  be  imagined,  the  gates  of  the  Castle 
of  Cleves  were  not  shut.  Everybody  was  free  to  come  in. 
Wine-butts  were  broached  in  all  the  courts  ;  the  pickled  meat 
prepared  in  such  lots  for  the  siege  was   distributed  among  th« 


262  ^  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHTNE. 

people,  who  crowded  to  congratulate  their  beloved  sovereign 
on  his  victory  ;  and  the  Prince,  as  was  customary  with  that 
good  man,  who  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  giving  a  dinner- 
party, had  a  splendid  entertainment  made  ready  for  the  upper 
classes,  the  whole  concluding  with  a  tasteful  display  of  fire- 
works. 

In  the  midst  of  these  entertainments,  our  old  friend  the 
Count  of  Hombourg  arrived  at  the  castle.  The  stalwart  old 
warrior  swore  by  Saint  Bugo  that  he  was  grieved  the  killing  of 
the  Rowski  had  been  taken  out  of  his  hand.  The  laughing 
Cleves  vowed  by  Saint  Bendigo,  Hombourg  could  never  have 
finished  off  his  enemy  so  satisfactorily  as  the  unknown  knight 
had  just  done. 

But  who  was  he  1  was  the  question  which  now  agitated  the 
bosom  of  these  two  old  nobles.  How  to  find  him — how  to  re- 
ward the  champion  and  restorer  of  the  honor  and  happiness 
of  Cleves  ?  They  agreed  over  supper  that  he  should  be  sought 
for  everywhere.  Beadles  were  sent  round  the  principal  cities 
within  fifty  miles,  and  the  description  of  the  knight  advertised 
in  the  yournal  de  Francfort  and  the  Allgemei7ie  Zeitung.  The 
hand  of  the  Princess  Helen  was  solemnly  offered  to  him  in 
these  advertisements,  with  the  reversion  of  the  Prince  of  Cleves' 
splendid  though  somewhat  dilapidated  property. 

"  But  we  don't  know  him,  my  dear  papa,"  faintly  ejaculated 
that  young  lady.  "  Some  impostor  may  come  in  a  suit  of  plain 
armor,  and  pretend  that  he  was  the  champion  who  overcame 
the  Rowski  (a  prince  who  had  his  faults  certainly,  but  whose 
attachment  for  me  I  can  never  forget)  j  and  how  are  you  to  say 
whether  he  is  the  real  knight  or  not .''  There  are  so  many  de- 
ceivers in  this  world,"  added  the  Princess,  in  tears,  "  that  one 
can't  be  too  cautious  now."  The  fact  is,  that  she  was  thinking 
of  the  desertion  of  Otto  in  the  morning ;  by  which  instance  of 
faithlessness  her  heart  was  wellnigh  broken. 

As  for  that  youth  and  his  comrade  Wolfgang,  to  the  aston- 
ishment of  everybody  at  their  impudence,  they  came  to  the 
archers'  mess  that  night,  as  if  nothing  had  happened  ;  got  their 
supper,  partaking  both  of  meat  and  drink  most  plentifully ; 
fell  asleep  when  their  comrades  began  to  describe  the  events  of 
the  day,  and  the  admirable  achievements  of  the  unknown  war- 
rior \  and,  turning  into  their  hammocks,  did  not  appear  on 
parade  in  the  morning  until  twenty  minutes  after  the  names 
were  called. 

When  the  Prince  of  Cleves  heard  of  the  return  of  these 
deserters  he  was  in  a  towering  passion.     "  Where  were  you, 


THE  MARRIAGE.  363 

fellows,"  shouted  he,  "  during  the  tune  my  castle  was  at  its 
utmost  need  ?  " 

Otto  replied,  "  We  were  out  on  particular  business." 

"  Does  a  soldier  leave  his  post  on  the  day  of  battle,  sir  ?  " 
exclaimed  the  Prince.  "  You  know  the  reward  of  such — Death  ! 
and  death  you  merit.  But  you  are  a  soldier  only  of  yesterday, 
and  yesterday's  victory  has  made  me  merciful.  Hanged  you 
shall  not  be,  as  you  merit — only  flogged,  both  of  you.  Parade 
the  men.  Colonel  Tickelstern,  after  breakfast,  and  give  these 
scoundrels  five  hundred  apiece." 

You  should  have  seen  how  young  Otto  bounded,  when  this 
information  was  thus  abruptly  conveyed  to  him.  "Flog  me /" 
cried  he.     "  Flog  Otto  of " 

"  Not  so,  my  father,"  said  the  Princess  Helen,  who  had 
been  standing  by  during  the  conversation,  and  who  had  looked 
at  Otto  all  the  while  with  the  most  ineffable  scorh.  "  Not  so  : 
although  these  persons  have  forgotten  their  duty  "  (she  laid  a 
particularly  sarcastic  emphasis  on  the  word  persons),  "  we  have 
had  no  need  of  their  services,  and  have  luckily  found  others 
more  faithful.  You  promised  your  daughter  a  boon,  papa  ;  it 
is  the  pardon  of  these  two  persons.  Let  them  go,  and  quit  a 
service  they  have  disgraced ;  a  mistress — that  is,  a  master — ■ 
they  have  deceived." 

"  Drum  'em  out  of  the  castle,  Tickelstern ;  strip  their  uni- 
forms from  their  backs,  and  never  let  me  hear  of  the  scoundrels 
again."  So  saying,  the  old  Prince  angrily  turned  on  his  heels 
to  breakfast,  leaving  the  two  young  men  to  the  fun  and  derision 
of  their  surrounding  comrades. 

The  noble  Count  of  Hombourg,  who  was  taking  his  usual 
airing  on  the  ramparts  before  breakfast,  came  up  at  this  junc- 
ture, and  asked  what  was  the  row  ?  Otto  blushed  when  he  saw 
him,  and  turned  away  rapidly ;  but  the  Count,  too,  catching 
a  glimpse  of  him,  with  a  hundred  exclamations  of  joyful  sur- 
prise seized  upon  the  lad,  hugged  him  to  his  manly  breast, 
kissed  him  most  affectionately,  and  almost  burst  into  tears  as 
he  embraced  him.  For,  in  sooth,  the  good  Count  had  thought 
his  godson  long  ere  this  at  the  bottom  of  the  silver  Rhine. 

The  Prince  of  Cleves,  who  had  come  to  the  breakfast-parloi 
•window,  (to  invite  his  guest  to  enter,  as  the  tea  was  made,)  be- 
held this  strange  scene  from  the  window,  as  did  the  lovely 
tea-maker  likewise,  with  breathless  and  beautiful  agitation. 
The  old  Count  and  the  archer  strolled  up  and  down  the  battle- 
ments in  deep  conversation,  By  the  gestures  of  surpiise  and 
delight  exhibited  by  the  former,  'twas  easy  to  see  the  young 


2'64.  •^  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

archer  was  conveying  some  very  strange  and  pleasing  news  to 
him  ;  though  the  nature  of  the  conversation  was  not  allowed  to 
transpire. 

"  A  godson  of  mine,"  said  the  noble  Count,  when  interro- 
gated over  his  muffins.  "  I  know  his  family  ;  worthy  people ; 
sad  scapegrace  ;  ran  away;  parents  longing  for  Inm  ;  glad  you 
did  not  flog  him  ;  devil  to  pay,"  and  so  forth.  The  Count  was 
a  man  of  few  words,  and  told  his  tale  in  this  brief,  artless  man- 
ner. But  why,  at  its  conclusion,  did  the  gentle  Helen  leave 
the  room,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  ?  She  left  the  room  once 
more  to  kiss  a  certain  lock  of  yellow  hair  she  had  pilfered.  A 
dazzling,  delicious  thought,  a  strange  wild  hope,  arose  in  her 
soul  ! 

When  she  appeared  again,  she  made  some  side-handed  in- 
quiries regarding  Otto  (with  that  gentle  artifice  oft  employed  by- 
women)  ;  but  he  was  gone.  He  and  his  companion  were  gone. 
The  Count  of  Hombourg  had  likewise  taken  his  departure, 
under  pretext  of  particular  business.  How  lonely  the  vast 
castle  seemed  to  Helen,  now  that  /^<?was  no  longer  there.  The 
transactions  of  the  last  few  days  ;  the  beautiful  archer-boy;  the 
offer  from  the  Rowski  (always  an  event  in  a  young  lady's  life)  ; 
the  siege  of  the  castle  ;  the  death  of  her  truculent  admirer  :  all 
seemed  like  a  fevered  dream  to  her  :  all  was  passed  away,  and 
had  left  no  trace  behind.  No  trace  ? — yes  !  one  :  a  little  in- 
significant lock  of  golden  hair,  over  which  the  young  creature 
wept  so  much  that  she  put  it  out  of  curl ;  passing  hours  and 
hours  in  the  summer-house,  where  the  operation  had  been  per- 
formed. 

On  the  second  day  (it  is  my  belidf  she  would  have  gone  into  a 
consumption  and  died  of  languor,  if  the  eventhad  been  delayed 
a  day  longer,)  a  messenger,  with  a  trumpet,  brought  a  letter  in 
haste  to  the  Prince  of  Cleves,  who  was,  as  usual,  taking  refi'esh- 
ment.  "To  the  High  and  Mighty  Prince,"  &c.,  the  letter  ran. 
"The  Champion  who  had  the  honor  of  engaging  on  Wednesday 
last  with  his  late  Excellency  the  Rowski  of  Donnerblitz,  presents 
his  compliments  to  H.  S.  H.  the  Prince  of  Cleves.  Through  the 
medium  of  the  public  prints  the  C.  has  been  made  acquainted 
with  the  flattering  proposal  of  His  Serene  Highness  relative  to  a 
union  between  himself  (the  Champion)  and  Her  Serene  High- 
ness the  Princess  Helen  of  Cleves.  The  Champion  accepts 
with  pleasure  that  polite  invitation,  and  will  have  the  honor  of 
waiting  upon  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Cleves  about  half  an 
hour  after  the  receipt  of  this  letter." 

"Tol  lol  de  rol,  girl,"  shouted  the  Prince  with  heartfelt  joy. 


THE  MA  RRIA  GE.  265 

(Have  you  not  remarked,  dear  friend,  how  often  in  novel-books 
and  on  the  stage,  joy  is  announced  by  the  above  burst  of  insen- 
sate monosyllal^les  ?)  '"  Tol  lol  de  roL  Don  tliy  best  kirtle, 
child  ;  thy  husband  will  be  here  anon."  And  Helen  retired  to 
arrange  her  toilet  for  this  awful  event  in  the  life  of  a  young 
woman.  When  she  returned,  attired  to  welcome  her  defender, 
her  young  cheek  was  as  pale  as  the  white  satin  slip  and  orange 
sprigs  she  wore. 

She  was  scarce  seated  on  the  dais  by  her  father's  side,  when 
a  huge  fiourish  of  trumpets  from  without  proclaimed  the  arrival 
of  the  Chat7ipioii.  Helen  felt  quite  sick  :  a  draught  of  ether  was 
necessary  to  restore  her  tranquillity. 

The  great  door  was  flung  open.  He  entered, — the  same 
tall  warrior,  slim,  and  beautiful,  blazing  in  shining  steel.  He 
approached  the  Prince's  throne,  supported  on  each  side  by  a 
friend  likewise  in  armor.     He  knelt  gracefully  on  one  knee. 

'■  I  come,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  emotion,  "to, 
claim,  as  per  advertisement,  the  hand  of  the  lovely  Helen." 
And  he  held  out  a  copy  of  the  AUgemeine  Zeitutig  as  he  spoke. 

"  Art  thou  noble,  Sir  Knight  ?  "  inquired  the  Prince  of 
Cleves. 

"As  noble  as  yourself,"  answered  the  kneeling  steel. 

"  Who  answers  for  thee  ?  " 

"  I,  Karl,  Margrave  of  Godesberg,  his  father !  "  said  the 
knight  on  the  right  hand,  lifting  up  his  visor. 

"  And  I — Ludwig,  Count  of  Hombourg,  his  godfather  !  " 
said  the  knight  on  the  left,  doing  likewise. 

The  kneeling  knight  lifted  up  his  visor  now,  and  looked  on 
Helen. 

"  I kimu  it  zuas,^^  said  she,  and  fainted  as  she  saw  Otto  the 
Archer. 

But  she  was  soon  brought  to,  gentles,  as  I  have  small  need 
to  tell  ye.  In  a  very  few  days  after,  a  great  marriage  took  place 
at  Cleves,  under  the  patronage  of  Saint  Bugo,  Saint  Buffo,  and 
Saint  Bendigo.  After  the  marriage  ceremony,  the  happiest  and 
handsomest  pair  in  the  world  drove  off  in  a  chaise-and-four,  to 
pass  the  honeymoon  at  Kissingen.  The  Lady  Theodora,  whom 
we  left  locked  up  in  her  convent  a  long  while  since,  was  pre- 
vailed upon  to  come  to  Godesberg,  where  she  was  reconciled 
to  her  husband.  Jealous  of  her  daughter-in-law,  she  idolized 
her  son,  and  spoiled  all  her  little  grandchildren.  And  so  all 
are  happy,  and  my  simple  tale  is  done. 

I  read  it  in  an  old,  old  book,  in  a  mouldy  old  circulating 
library,      'Twas  written  in  the   French  tongue,  by  the  noble 


266  ^  LEGEND  OF  THE  RHINE. 

Alexandre  Dumas  ;  but  'tis  probable  that  he  stole  it  from  some 
other,  and  that  the  other  had  filched  it  from  a  former  tale-telier. 
p'or  nothing  is  new  under  the  sun.  Things  die  and  are  repro- 
duced only.  And  so  it  is  that  the  forgotten  tale  of  the  great 
Dumas  reappears  under  the  signature  of 

Theresa  MacWhirter. 
Whistld'inkie,  N.  B.,  December  I. 


REBECCA  AND    ROWENA. 

A    ROMANCE    UPON    ROMANCE. 


REBECCA   AND    ROWENA. 

A    ROMANCE    UPON    ROMANCE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    OVERTURE. COMMENCEMENT    OF    THE    BUSINESS. 

Well-beloved  novei-readers  and  gentle  patronesses  of  ro- 
mance, assuredly  it  has  often  occurred  to  every  one  of  you, 
that  the  books  we  delight  in  have  unsatisfactory  conclusions, 
and  end  quite  prematurely  with  page  320  of  the  third  volume. 
At  that  epoch  of  the  history  it  is  well  known  that  the  hero  is  sel- 
dom more  than  thirty  years  old,  and  the  heroine  by  consequence 
some  seven  or  eight  years  younger  ;  and  I  would  ask  any  of 
you  whether  it  is  fair  to  suppose  that  people  after  the  above  age 
have  nothing  worthy  of  note  in  their  lives,  and  cease  to  exist  as 
they  drive  away  from  Saint  George's,  Hanover  Square  ?  You, 
dear  young  ladies,  who  get  your  knowledge  of  life  from  the  cir- 
culating library,  may  be  led  to  imagine  that  when  the  marriage 
business  is  done,  and  Emilia  is  whisked  off  in  the  new  travel- 
ling-carriage, by  the  side  of  the  enraptured  Earl  ;  or  Belinda, 
breaking  away  from  the  tearful  embraces  of  her  excellent 
mother,  dries  her  own  lovely  eyes  upon  the  throbbing  waistcoat 
of  her  bridegroom — you  may  be  apt,  I  say,  to  suppose  that  all 
is  over  then;  that  Emilia  and  the  EarPare  going  to  be  happy 
for  the  rest  of  their  lives  in  his  lordship's  romantic  castle  in  the 
North,  and  Belinda  and  her  young  clergyman  to  enjoy  uninter- 
rupted bliss  in  their  rose-trellised  parsonage  in  the  West  of 
England  :  but  some  there  be  among  the  novel-reading  classes 
— old  experienced  folks — who  know  better  than  this.  Some 
there  be  who  have  been  married,  and  found  that  they  have  still 

U69) 


270 


REBECCA  AND  ROVVENA. 


something  to  see  and  to  do,  and  to  suffer  mayhap ;  and  that 
adventures,  and  pains,  and  pleasures,  and  taxes,  and  sunrises 
and  setting,  and  the  business  and  joys  and  griefs  of  life  go  on 
after,  as  before  the  nuptial  ceremony. 

Therefore  I  say,  it  is  an  unfair  advantage  which  the  novelist 
takes  of  hero  and  heroine,  as  of  his  inexperienced  reader,  to 
say  good-by  to  the  two  former,  as' soon  as  ever  they  are  made 
husband  and  wife ;  and  I  have  often  wished  that  additions 
should  be  made  to  all  works  of  fiction  which  have  been  brought 
to  abrupt  terminations  in  the  manner  described  ;  and  that  we 
should  hear  what  occurs  to  the  sober  married  man,  as  well  as 
to  the  ardent  bachelor ;  to  the  m.atron,  as  well  as  to  the  blush- 
ing spinster.  And  in  this  respect  I  admire  (and  would  desire 
to  imitate)  the  noble  and  prolific  French  author,  Alexandre 
Dumas,  who  carries  his  heroes  from  early  youth  down  to  the 
most  venerable  old  age  ;  and  does  not  let  them  rest  until  they 
are  so  old,  that  it  is  full  time  the  poor  fellows  should  get  a 
little  peace  and  quiet.  A  hero  is  much  too  valuable  a  gentle- 
man to  be  put  upon  the  retired  list,  in  the  prime  and  vigor  of 
his  youth  ;  and  I  wish  to  know  what  lady  among  us  would  like 
to  be  put  on  the  shelf,  and  thought  no  longer  interesting,  be^ 
cause  she  has  a  family  growing  up,  and  is  four  or  five  and  thirty 
years  of  age  ?  I  have  known  ladies  at  sixty,  with  hearts  as 
tender  and  ideas  as  romantic  as  any  young  misses  of  sixteen. 
Let  us  have  middle-aged  novels  then,  as  well  as  your  extremely 
juvenile  legends  :  let  the  young  ones  be  warned  that  the  old 
folks  have  a  right  to  be  interesting  :  and  that  a  lady  may  con- 
tinue to  have  a  heart,  although  she  is  somewhat  stouter  than 
she  was  when  a  school-girl,  and  a  man  his  feelings,  although  he 
gets  his  hair  from  Truefitt's. 

Thus  I  would  desire  that  the  biographies  of  many  of  our 
most  illustrious  personages  of  romance  should  be  continued 
by  fitting  hands,  and  that  they  should  be  heard  of,  until  at 
least  a  decent  age. — Look  at  Mr.  James's  heroes  :  they  invari- 
ably marry  young.  Look  at  Mr.  Dickens's  :  they  disappear 
from  the  scene  when  they  are  mere  chits.  I  trust  these  authors, 
who  are  still  alive,  will  see  the  propriety  of  telling  us  something 
more  about  people  in  whom  we  took  a  considerable  interest, 
and  who  must  be  at  present  strong  and  hearty,  and  in  the  full 
vigor  of  health  and  intellect.  And  in  the  tales  of  the  great 
Sir  Walter  (may  honor  be  to  his  name),  I  am  sure  there  are  a 
number  of  people  who  are  untimely  carried  away  from  us,  and 
of  whom  we  ought  to  hear  more. 

My  dear  Rebecca,  daughter  of  Isaac  of  York,  has  always, 


THE  OVERTURE. 


271 


in  my  mind,  been  one  of  these  ;  nor  can  I  ever  believe  that 
such  a  woman,  so  admirable,  so  tender,  so  heroic,  so  beautiful, 
could  disappear  altogether  before  such  another  woman  as  Ro- 
wena,  that  vapid,  flaxen-headed  creature,  who  is,  in  my  humble 
opinion,  unworthy  of  Ivanhoe,  and  unworthy  of  her  place  as 
heroine.  Had  both  of  them  got  their  rights,  it  ever  seemed  to 
me  that  Rebecca  would  have  had  the  husband,  and  Rowena 
would  have  gone  off  to  a  convent  and  shut  herself  up,  where 
I,  for  one,  would  never  have  taken  the  trouble  of  inquiring  fcr 
her. 

But  after  all  she  married  Ivanhoe.  What  is  to  be  done  ? 
There  is  no  help  for  it.  There  it  is  in  black  and  white  at  the 
end  of  the  third  volume  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  chronicle,  that 
the  couple  were  joined  together  in  matrimony.  And  must  the 
Disinherited  Knight,  whose  blood  has  been  fired  by  the  suns  of 
Palestine,  and  whose  heart  has  been  warmed  in  the  company 
of  the  tender  and  beautiful  Rebecca,  sit  down  contented  for 
life  by  the  side  of  such  a  frigid  piece  of  propriety  as  that  icy, 
faultless,  prim,  niminy-piminy  Rowena  ?  Forbid  it  fate,  forbid 
it  poetical  justice !  There  is  a  simple  plan  for  setting  matters 
right,  and  giving  all  parties  their  due,  which  is  here  submitted 
to  the  novel-reader.  Ivanhoe's  history  must  have  had  a  con- 
tinuation ;  and  it  is  this  which  ensues.  I  may  be  wrong  in 
some  particulars  of  the  narrative, — as  what  writer  will  not  be  ? 
— but  of  the  main  incidents  of  the  history,  I  have  in  my  own 
mind  no  sort  of  doubt,  and  confidently  submit  them  to  that 
generous  public  which  likes  to  see  virtue  righted,  true  love  re- 
warded, and  the  brilliant  Fairy  descend  out  of  the  blazing 
chariot  at  the  end  of  the  pantomime,  and  make  Harlequin  and 
Columbine  happy.  What,  if  reality  be  not  so,  gentlemen  and 
ladies  ;  and  if,  after  dancing  a  variety  of  jigs  and  antics,  and 
jumping  in  and  out  of  endless  trap-doors  and  windows,  through 
life's  shifting  scenes,  no  fairy  comes  down  to  make  us  comfort- 
able at  the  close  of  the  performance  ?  Ah  !  let  us  give  our 
honest  novel-folks  the  benefit  of  their  position,  and  not  be  en- 
vious of  their  good  luck. 

No  person  who  has  read  the  preceding  volumes  of  this 
history,  as  the  famous  chronicler  of  Abbotsford  has  recorded 
them,  can  doubt  for  a  moment  what  was  the  result  of  the 
marriage  between  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  and  Lady  Rowena. 
Those  who  have  marked  her  conduct  during  her  maidenhood, 
her  distinguished  politeness,  her  spotless  modesty  of  demeanor, 
her  unalterable  coolness  under  all  circumstances,  and  her  lofty 
and  gentlewomanlike  bearing,  must  be  sure  that  her  married 


2^2  REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 

conduct  would  equal  her  spinster  behavior,  and  that  Rowena 
the  wife  would  be  a  pattern  of  correctness  for  all  the  matrons 
of  England. 

Such  was  the  fact.  For  miles  around  Rotherwood  her 
character  for  piety  was  known.  Her  castle  was  a  rendezvous 
for  all  the  clergy  and  monks  of  the  district,  whom  she  fed  with 
the  richest  viands,  while  she  pinched  herself  upon  pulse  and 
water.  There  was  not  an  invalid  in  the  three  Ridings,  Saxon 
or  Norman,  but  the  palfrey  of  the  Lady  Rowena  might  be  seen 
journeying  to  his  door,  in  company  with  Father  Glauber,  her 
almoner,  and  Brother  Thomas  of  Epsom,  her  leech.  She 
lighted  up  all  the  churches  in  Yorkshire  with  wax-candles,  the 
offerings  of  her  piety.  The  bells  of  her  chapel  began  to  ring 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  ;  and  all  the  domestics  of  Rother- 
wood were  called  upon  to  attend  at  matins,  at  complins,  at 
nones,  at  vespers,  and  at  sermon.  I  need  not  say  that  fasting 
was  observed  with  all  the  rigors  of  the  Church ;  and  that  those 
of  the  servants  of  the  Lady  Rowena  were  looked  upon  with 
most  favor  whose  hair-shirts  were  the  roughest,  and  who  flagel- 
lated themselves  with  the  most  becoming  perseverance. 

Whether  it  was  that  this  discipline  cleared  poor  Wamba's 
wits  or  cooled  his  humor,  it  is  certain  that  he  became  the  most 
melancholy  fool  in  England,  and  if  ever  he  ventured  upon  a 
pun  to  the' shuddering  poor  servitors,  who  were  mumbling  their 
dry  crusts  below  the  salt,  it  was  such  a  faint  and  stale  joke  that 
nobody  dared  to  laugh  at  the  inuendoes  of  the  unfortunate 
wag,  and  a  sickly  smile  was  the  best  applause  he  could  muster. 
Once,  indeed,  when  Guffo,  the  gooseboy  (a  half-witted  poor 
wretch),  laughed  outright  at  a  lamentably  stale  pun  which 
Wamba  palmed  upon  him  at  supper-time,  (it  was  dark,  and  the 
torches  being  brought  in,  Wamba  said,  "  Guffo,  they  can't  see 
their  way  in  the  argument,  and  are  going  to  throw  a  little  light 
npon  the  subject^')  the  Lady  Rowena,  being  disturbed  in  a 
theological  controversy  with  Father  Willibald,  (afterwards  can- 
onized as  St.  Willibald,  of  Bareacres,  hermit  and  confessor,) 
called  out  to  know  what  was  the  cause  of  the  unseemly  inter- 
ruption, and  Guffo  and  Wamba  being  pointed  out  as  the  cul- 
prits, ordered  them  straightway  into  the  court-yard,  and  three 
dozen  to  be  administered  to  each  of  them. 

"  I  got  you  out  of  Front-de-Boeuf's  castle,"  said  poor 
Wamba,  piteously,  appealing  to  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  "  and 
canst  thou  not  save  me  from  the  lash  t  " 

"  Yes,  from  Front-de-Bceuf's  castle,  where  you  were  locked  up 
with  the  Jewess  in  the  tower  T'  said  Rowena,  haughtily  reply- 


THE  OVERTURE: 


273 


ing  to  the  timid  appeal  of  her  husband.     "  Gurth,  give  him  foui 
dozen  !  " 

And  this  was  all  poor  Wamba  got  by  applying  for  the 
mediation  of  his  master. 

In  fact,  Rowena  knew  her  own  dignity  so  well  as  a  princess 
of  the  royal  blood  of  England,  that  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  her 
consort,  could  scarcely  call  his  life  his  own,  and  was  made,  in 
all  things,  to  feel  the  inferiority  of  his  station.  And  which  of 
us  is  there  acquainted  with  the  sex  that  has  not  remarked  this 
propensity  in  lovely  woman,  and  how  often  the  wisest  in  the 
council  are  made  to  be  as  fools  at  her  board,  and  the  boldest 
in  the  battle-field  are  craven  when  facing  her  distaff  ? 

"  IVh-ere  you  were  locked  up  with  the  Jezvess  in  the  tcncer," 
was  a  remark,  too,  of  which  Wilfrid  keenly  felt,  and  perhaps 
the  reader  will  understand,  the  significancy.  When  the  daugh- 
ter of  Isaac  of  York  brought  her  diamonds  and  rubies- — the 
poor,  gentle  victim  ! — and,  meekly  laying  them  at  the  feet  of 
the  conquering  Rowena,  departed  into  foreign  lands  to  tend 
the  sick  of  her  people,  and  to  brood  over  the  bootless  passion 
which  consumed  her  own  pure  heart,  one  would  have  thought 
that  the  heart  of  the  royal  lady  wotild  have  melted  before  such 
beauty  and  humility,  and  that  she  would  have  been  generous 
in  the  moment  of  her  victory.  •■    ^ 

But  did  you  ever  know  a  right-minded  woman  pardon  an- 
other for  being  handsome  and  more  love-worthy  than  herself  > 
The  Lady  Rowena  did  certainly  say  with  mighty  magnanimity 
to  the  Jewish  maiden,  "Come  and  live  with  me  as  a  sister,"  as 
the  former  part  of  this  history  shows  ;  but  Rebecca  knew  in  her 
heart  that  her  ladyship's  proposition  was  what  is  called  bosh  (in 
that  noble  Eastern  language  witli  which  Wilfrid  the  Crusader 
was  familiar),  or  fudge,  in  plain  Saxon  ;  and  retired  with  a 
broken,  gentle  spirit,  neither  able  to  bear  the  sight  of  her 
rival's  happiness,  nor  willing  to  disturb  it  by  tl>e  contrast  to 
her  own  wretchedness.  Rowena^  like  the  most  high-bred  and 
virtuous  of  women,  never  forgave  Isaac's  daughter  her  beauty, 
nor  her  flirtation  with  Wilfrid  (as  the  Saxon  lady  chose  to 
term  it) ;  nor,  above  all,  her  admirable  diamonds  and  jewels, 
although  Rowena  was  actually  in  possession  of  them. 

In  a  word,  she  was  always  flinging  Rebecca  into  Ivanhoe's 
teeth.  There  was  not  a  day  in  his  life  but  that  unhappy  warrior 
was  made  to  remember  that  a  Hebrew  damsel  had  been  in  love 
with  him,  and  that  a  Christian  lady  of  fashion  could  never  for- 
give the  insult.  For  instance,  if  Gurth,  the  swineherd,  wh.o  was 
now  promoted  to  be   a  gamel^eeper  and  verderer,  brought  the 


274 


REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 


account  of  a  famous  wild-boar  in  the  wood,  and  proposed  a 
hunt,  Rowena  would  say,  "  Do,  Sir  Wilfrid,  persecute  these 
poor  pigs  :  you  know  your  friends  the  Jews  can't  abide  them  !  " 
Or  when,  as  it  oft  would  happen,  our  lion-hearted  monarch, 
Richard,  in  order  to  get  a  loan  or  a  benevolence  from  the  Jews, 
would  roast  a  few  of  the  Hebrew  capitalists,  or  extract  some  of 
the  principal  rabbis'  teeth,  Rowena  would  exult  and  say,  "  Serve 
them  right,  the  misbelieving  wretches !  England  can  never  be 
a  happy  country  until  every  one  of  these  monsters  is  extermi- 
nated !  " — or  else,  adopting  a  strain  of  still  more  savage  sar- 
casm, would  exclaim,  "  Ivanhoe  my  dear,  more  persecution  for 
the  Jews!  Hadn't  you  better  interfere,  my  love?  His  Majesty 
will  do  anything  for  you  ;  and,  you  know,  the  Jews  were  ahvays 
such  favorites  of  yours"  or  words  to  that  effect.  But,  neverthe- 
less, her  ladyship  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  wearing  Re- 
becca's jewels  at  court,  whenever  the  Queen  held  a  drawing- 
room  ;  or  at  the  York  assizes  and  ball,  when  she  appeared 
there  :  not  of  course  because  she  took  any  interest  in  such 
things,  but  because  she  considered  it  her  duty  to  attend,  as  one 
of  the  chief  ladies  of  the  county. 

Thus  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  having  attained  the  height  of 
his  wishes,  was,  like  many  a  man  when  he  has  reached  that 
dangerous  elevation,  disappointed.  Ah,  dear  friends,  it  is  but 
too  often  so  in  life !  Many  a  garden,  seen  from  a  distance, 
looks  fresh  and  green,  which,  when  beheld  closely,  is  dismal 
and  weedy  ;  the  shady  walks  melancholy  and  grass-grown  ;  the 
bowers  you  would  fain  repose  in,  cushioned  with  stinging-nettles. 
I  have  ridden  in  a  caique  upon  the  waters  of  the  Bosphorus, 
and  looked  upon  the  capital  of  the  Soldan  of  Turkey.  As  seen 
from  those  blue  waters,  with  palace  and  pinnacle,  with  gilded 
dome  and  towering  cypress,  it  seemeth  a  very  Paradise  ol 
Mahound  :  but,  enter  the  city,  and  it  is  but  a  beggarly  labyrinth 
of  rickety  huts  and  dirty  alleys,  where  the  ways  are  steep  and 
the  smells  are  foul,  tenanted  by  mangy  dogs  and  ragged  beggars 
— a  dismal  illusion  !  Life  is  such,  ah,  well-a-day !  It  is  only 
hope  which  is  real,  and  reality  is  a  bitterness  and  a  deceit. 

Perhaps  a  man  with  Ivanhoe's  high  principles  would  never 
bring  himself  to  acknowledge  this  fact ;  but  others  did  for  him. 
He  grew  thin,  and  pined  away  as  much  as  if  he  had  been  in  a 
fever  under  the  scorching  sun  of  Ascalon.  He  had  no  appetite 
for  his  meals  ;  he  slept  ill,  though  he  was  yawning  all  day.  The 
jangling  of  the  doctors  and  friars  whom  Rowena  brought  to- 
gctlier  did  not  in  the  least  enliven  him,  and  he  would  sometimes 
give  proofs  of  sonmolency  during  their  disputes,  greatly  to  the 


THE  OVERTURE. 


275 


consternation  of  his  lady.  He  hunted  a  good  deal,  and,  I  very 
much  fear,  as  Rowena  rightly  remarked,  that  he  might  have  an 
excuse  for  being  absent  from  home.  He  began  to  like  wine, 
too,  who  had  been  as  sober  as  a  hermit ;  and  when  he  came 
back  from  Athelstane's  (whither  he  would  repair  not  unfre- 
quently),  the  unsteadiness  of  his  gait  and  the  unnatural  bril- 
liancy of  his  eye  were  remarked  by  his  lady :  who,  you  may  be 
sure,  was  sitting  up  for  him.  As  for  Athelstane,  he  swore  by 
St.  Wullstan  that  he  was  glad  to  have  escaped  a  marriage  with 
such  a  pattern  of  propriety  ;  and  honest  Cedric  the  Saxon  (who 
had  been  very  speedily  driven  out  of  his  daughter-in-law's 
castle)  vowed  by  St.  Waltheof  that  his  son  had  bought  a  dear 
bargain. 

So  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  became  almost  as  tired  of  England 
as  his  royal  master  Richard  was,  (who  always  quitted  the  coun- 
try when  he  had  squeezed  from  his  royal  nobles,  commons, 
clergy,  and  Jews,  all  the  money  which  he  could  get,)  and  when 
the  lion-hearted  Prince  began  to  make  war  against  the  French 
King,  in  Normandy  and  Guienne,  Sir  Wilfrid  pined  like  a  true 
servant  to  be  in  company  of  the  good  champion,  alongside  of 
whom  he  had  shivered  so  many  lances,  and  dealt  such  woundy 
blows  of  sword  and  battle-axe  on  the  plains  of  Jaffa  or  the 
breaches  of  Acre.  Travellers  were  welcome  at  Rotherwood 
that  brought  news  from  the  camp  of  the  good  King :  and  I 
warrant  me  that  the  knight  listened  with  ail  his  might  when 
Father  Drono,  the  chaplain,  read  in  the  St.  James's  Chrotiykyll 
(which  was  the  paper  of  news  he  of  Ivanhoe  took  in)  of  "  another 
glorious  triumph "— "  Defeat  of  the  French  near  Blois  "-— 
"  Splendid  victory  at  Epte,  and  narrow-  escape  of  the  French 
King:"  the  which  deeds  of  arms  the  learned  scribes  had  to 
narrate. 

However  such  tales  might  excite  him  during  the  reading, 
they  left  the  Knight  of  Ivanhoe  only  the  more  melancholy  after 
listening:  and  the  more  moody  as  he  sat  in  his  great  hall 
silently  draining  his  Gascony  wine.  Silently  sat  he  and  looked 
at  his  coats-of-maii  hanging  vacant  on  the  wall,  his  banner 
covered  with  spider-webs,  and  his  sword  and  axe  rusting  there. 
"Ah,  dear  axe,"  sighed  he  (into  his  drinking  horn) — "ah,  gen- 
tle steel !  that  was  a  merry  time  when  I  sent  thee  crashing  into 
the  pate  of  the  Emir  Abdul  Melik  as  he  rode  on  the  right  of 
Saladin.  Ah,  my  sword,  my  dainty  headsman  !  my  sweet  split- 
rib  !  my  razor  of  infidel  beards  !  is  the  rust  to  eat  thine  edge  off, 
and  am  I  never  more  to  wield  thee  in  battle  ?  Whrtt  is  the  use 
of  a  shield  on  a  wall,  or  a  lance  that  has  a  cobweb  for  a  pennon? 


276 


REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 


O  Richard,  my  good  king,  would  I  could  hear  once  more  thy 
voice  in  the  front  of  the  onset !  Bones  of  Brian  the  Templar ! 
would  ye  could  rise  from  your  grave  at  Templestowe,  and  that 
we  might  break  another  spear  for  honor  and — and "   *   *  * 

"And  Rebecca"  he  would  have  said  ;  but  the  knight  paused 
here  in  rather  a  guilty  panic  :  and  her  Royal  Highness  the 
Princess  Rowena  (as  she  chose  t6  style  herself  at  home)  looked 
so  hard  at  him  out  of  her  china-blue  eyes,  that  Sir  Wilfrid  felt 
as  if  she  was  reading  his  thoughts,  and  was  fain  to  drop  his 
own  eyes  into  his  flagon. 

In  a  word,  his  life  was  intolerable.  The  dinner-hour  of  the 
twelfth  century,  it  is  known,  was  very  early ;  in  fact,  people 
dined  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning :  and  after  dinner  Rowena 
sat  mum  under  her  canopy,  embroidered  with  the  arms  @f 
Edward  the  Confessor,  working  with  her  maidens  at  the  most 
hideous  pieces  of  tapestry,  representing  the  tortures  and  martyr- 
doms of  her  favorite  saints,  and  not  allowing  a  soul  to  speak 
above  his  breath,  except  when  she  chose  to  cry  out  in  her  own 
shrill  voice  when  a  handmaid  made  a  wrong  stitch,  or  let  fall  a 
ball  of  worsted.  It  was  a  dreary  life.  Wamba,  we  have  said, 
never  ventured  to  crack  a  joke,  save  in  a  whisper,  when  he  was 
ten  miles  from  home  ;  and  then  Sir  Wilfrid  Ivanhoe  was  too 
weary  and  blue-devilled  to  laugh  ;  but  hunted  in  silence,  moodily 
bringing  down  deer  and  wild-boar  with  shaft  and  quarrel. 

Then  he  besought  Robin  of  Huntingdon,  the  jolly  outlaw, 
nathless,  to  join  him,  and  go  to  the  help  of  their  fair  sire  King 
Richard,  with  a  score  or  two  of  lances.  But  the  Earl  of  Hunt- 
ingdon was  a  very  different  character  from  Robin  Hood  the 
forester.  There  was  no  more  conscientious  magistrate  in  all 
the  county  than  his  lordship  :  he  was  never  known  to  miss 
church  or  quarter-sessions  ;  he  was  the  strictest  game-proprietor 
in  all  the  Riding,  and  sent  scores  of  poachers  to  Botany  Bay. 
"A  man  who  has  a  stake  in  the  country,  my  good  Sir  AA'ilfrid," 
Lord  Huntingdon  said,  with  rather  a  patronizing  air  (his  lord- 
ship had  grown  immensely  fat  since  the  King  had  taken  him 
into  grace,  and  required  a  horse  as  strong  as  an  elephant  to 
mount  him) — "  a  man  with  a  stake  in  the  country  ought  to  stay 
/;/  the  country.  Property  has  its  duties  as  well  as  its  privileges, 
and  a  person  of  my  rank  is  bound  to  live  on  the  land  from  which 
he  gets  his  living." 

"  Amen  !  "  sang  out  the  Reverend Tuck,  his  lordship's 

domestic  chaplain,  who  had  also  grown  as  sleek  as  the  Abbot 
of  Jorvaulx,  who  was  as  prim  as  a  lady  in  his  dress,  wore  ber- 
ganiot  in   his  handkerchief,  and  had   his  poll   shnvcd  and  his 


THE  OVERTURE.  277 

beard  curled  every  day.  And  so  sanctified  was  his  Reverence 
grown,  that  he  thought  it  was  a  shame  to  kill  the  pretty  deer, 
(though  he  ate  of  them  still  hugely,  both  in  pasties  and  with 
French  beans  and  currant-jelly.)  and  being  shown  a  quarter- 
staff  upon  a  certain  occasion,  handled  it  curiously,  and  asked 
'  what  that  ugly  great  stick  was  ? ' 

Lady  Huntingdon,  late  Maid  Marian,  had  still  some  of  her 
old  fun  and  spirits,  and  poor  Ivanhoe  begged  and  prayed  that 
she  would  come  and  stay  at  Rotherwood  occasionally,  and 
egayer  the  general  dulness  of  that  castle.  But  her  ladyship  said 
that  Rowena  gave  herself  such  airs,  and  bored  her  so  intolera- 
bly with  stories  of  King  Edward  the  Confessor,  that  she  pre- 
ferred any  place  rather  flian  Rotherwood,  which  was  as  dull  as 
if  it  had  been  at  the  top  of  Mount  Athos. 

The  only  person  who  visited  it  was  Athelstane.  "  His 
Royal  Highness  the  Prince"  Rowena  of  course  called  him,  whom 
the  lady  received  with  royal  honors.  She  had  the  guns  fired, 
and  the  footmen  turned  out  with  presented  arms  when  he 
arrived  ;  helped  him  to  all  Ivanhoe's  favorite  cuts  of  the  mutton 
or  the  turkey,  and  forced  her  poor  husband  to  light  him  to  the 
state  bedroom,  walking  backwards,  holding  a  pair  of  wax-candles. 
At  this  hour  of  bed-time  the  Thane  used  to  be  in  such  a  condi- 
tion, that  he  saw  two  pairs  of  candles  and  two  Ivanhoes  reeling 
before  him.  Let  us  hope  it  was  not  Ivanhoe  that  was  reeling, 
but  only  his  kinsman's  brains  muddled  with  the  quantities  of 
drink  which  it  was  his  daily  custom  to  consume.  Rowena  said 
it  was  the  crack  which  the  wicked  Bois  Guilbert,  "  the  Jewess's 
otherXov^x,  Wilfrid  my  dear,"  gave  him  on  his  royal  skull,  which 
caused  the  Prince  to  be  disturbed  so  easily  ;  but  added,  that 
drinking  became  a  person  of  royal  blood,  and  was  but  one  of 
the  duties  of  his  station. 

Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  saw  it  would  be  of  no  avail  to  ask 
this  man  to  bear  him  company  on  his  projected  tour  abroad ; 
but  still  he  himself  was  every  day  more  and  mor5  bent  upon 
going,  and  he  long  cast  about  for  some  means  of  breaking  to 
his  Rowena  his  firm  resolution  to  join  the  King.  He  thought 
she  would  certainly  fall  ill  if  he  communicated  the  news  too  ab- 
ruptly to  her :  he  would  pretend  a  journey  to  York  to  attend  a 
grand  jury  ;  then  a  call  to  London  on  law  business  or  to  buy 
stock ;  then  he  would  slip  over  to  Calais  by  the  packet,  by  de» 
grees  as  it  were  ;  and  so  be  with  the  King  before  his  wife  knew 
that  he  was  out  of  sight  of  Westminster  Hall. 

"  Suppose  your  honor  says  you  are  going  as  your  honor 
would  say  Bo  !  to  a  goose,  plump,  short,  and  to  the  point,"  said 


27S 


REBECCA  AND  ROIVENA. 


Wamba  the  Jester — who  was  Sir  Wilfrid's  chief  counsellor  and 
attendant — "depend  on't  her  Highness  would  bear  the  news 
like  a  Christian  woman." 

"  Tush,  malapert !  I  will  give  thee  the  strap,"  said  Sii 
Wilfrid,  in  a  fine  tone  of  high-tragedy  indignation.  "  Thou 
knowest  not  the  delicacy  of  the  nerves  of  high-born  ladies.  An 
she  faint  not,  write  me  down  Hollander." 

"  I  will  wager  my  bauble  against  an  Irish  billet  of  exchange 
that  she  will  let  your  honor  go  off  readily :  that  is,  if  you  press 
not  the  matter  too  strongly,"  Wamba  answered,  knowingly. 
And  this  Ivanhoe  found  to  his  discomfiture  :  for  one  morning  at 
breakfast,  adopting  a  degage  air,  as  he  sipped  his  tea,  he  said, 
"  My  love,  I  was  thinking  of  going  over  to  pay  his  Majesty  a 
visit  in  Normandy."  Upon  which,  laying  down  her  mufhn, 
(which,  since  the  royal  Alfred  baked  those  cakes,  had  been  the 
chosen  breakfast  cate  of  noble  Anglo-Saxons,  and  which  a 
kneeling  page  tendered  to  her  on  a  salver,  chased  by  the  Flor- 
entine, Benvenuto  Cellini,) — "When  do  you  think  of  going, 
Wilfrid  my  dear  ?  "  the  lady  said  ;  and  the  moment  the  tea-things 
were  removed,  and  the  tables  and  their  trestles  put  away,  she 
set  about  mending  his  linen,  and  getting  ready  his  carpet-bag. 

So  Sir  Wilfrid  v/as  as  disgusted  at  her  readiness  to  part  with 
him  as  he  had  been  weary  of  staying  at  home,  which  caused 
Wamba  the  Fool  to  say,  "  Marry,  gossip,  thou  art  like  the  man 
on  ship  board,  who,  when  the  boatswain  flogged  him,  did  cry 
out  '  Oh  !  '  wherever  the  rope's-end  fell  on  him  :  which  caused 
Master  Boatswain  to  say,  '  Plague  on  thee,  fellow,  and  a  pize 
on  thee,  knave,  wherever  I  hit  thee  there  is  no  pleasing  thee.'  " 

"  And  truly  there  are  some  backs  which  Fortune  is  always 
belaboring,"  thought  Sir  Wilfrid  with  a  groan,  "and  mine  is 
one  that  is  ever  sore." 

So,  with  a  moderate  retinue,  whereof  the  knave  Wamba 
made  one,  and  a  large  woollen  comforter  round  his  neck,  which 
Ills  wife's  own  white  lingers  had  woven.  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe 
left  home  to  join  the  King  his  master.  Rowena,  standing  on 
the  steps,  poured  out  a  series  of  prayers  and  blessings,  most 
edifying  to  hear,  as  her  lord  mounted  his  charger,  which  his 
squires  led  to  the  door.  "  It  was  the  duty  of  the  British  female 
of  rank,"  she  said,  "  to  suffer  all — all  in  the  cause  of  her  sov- 
ereign. She  would  not  fear  loneliness  during  the  campaign  : 
she  would  bear  up  against  widowhood,  desertion,  and  an  un- 
protected situation." 

"  My  cousin  Athelstane  will  protect  thee,"  said  Ivanhoe, 
with  profound  emotion,  as  the  tears  trickled  down  his  basenet  j 


THE  OVERTURE.  279 

and  bestowing  a  chaste  salute  upon  the  steel-clad  warrior, 
Rowena  modestly  said  '  she  hoped  his  Highness  would  be  so 
kind.' 

Then  Ivaithoe's  trumpet  blew  :  then  Rowena  waved  her 
pocket-handkerchief  :  then  the  household  gave  a  shout  :  then 
the  pursuivant  of  the  good  Knight,  Sir  Wilfrid  the  Crusader, 
flung  out  his  banner  (which  was  argent,  a  gules  cramoisy  with 
three  Moors  impaled  sable)  :  then  Wamba  gave  a  lash  on  his 
mule's  haunch,  and  Ivanhoe,  heaving  a  great  sigh,  turned  the 
tail  of  his  war-horse  upon  the  castle  of  his  fathers. 

As  they  rode  along  the  forest,  they  met  Atheistane  the 
Thane  powdering  along  the  road  in  the  direction  of  Rotherwood 
on  his  great  dray-horse  of  a  charger.  '■'  Good-by,  good  luck  to 
you,  old  brick,"  cried  the  Prince,  using  the  vernacular  Saxon. 
*'  Pitch  into  those  Frenchmen  ;  give  it  'em  over  the  face  and 
ej'es  ;  and  I'll  stop  at  home  and  take  care  of  Mrs.  I." 

"Thank  you,  kinsman,"  said  Ivanhoe — looking,  however, 
not  particularly  well-pleased  ;  and  the  chiefs  shaking  hands, 
the  train  of  each  took  its  different  way — Atheistane 's  to  Rother- 
wood, Ivanhoe's  towards  his  place  of  embarkation. 

The  poor  knight  had  his  wish,  and  yet  his  face  was  a  yard 
long  and  as  yellow  as  a  lawyer's  parchment ;  and  having  longed 
to  quit  home  any  time  these  three  years  past,  he  found  himself 
envying  Atheistane,  because,  forsooth,  he  was  going  to  Rother- 
wood :  which  symptoms  of  discontent  being  observed  by  the 
witless  Wamba,  caused  that  absurd  madman  to  bring  his  rebeck 
over  his  shoulder  from  his  back,  and  to  sing — 

"  ATRA  CURA. 

"  Before  I  lost  my  five  poor  wits, 
I  mind  me  of  a  Romish  clerk, 
Who  sang  how  Care,  tlie  phantom  dark. 
Beside  the  belted  horseman  sits. 
Methought  I  saw  the  grisly  sprite 
Jump  up  but  now  behind  my  Knight." 

"  Perhaps  thou  didst,  knave,"  said  Ivanhoe,  looking  overhis 
•boulder ;  and  the  knave  went  on  with  his  jingle  : 

"  And  though  he  gallop  as  he  may, 
I  mark  that  cursed  monster  black 
Still  sits  behind  his  honor's  back. 
Tight  squeezing  of  his  heart  alway. 
Like  two  black  Templars  sit  they  there. 
Beside  one  crupper,  Knight  and  Care. 

"  No  knight  am  I  with  p«nnoned  spear, 
To  prance  upon  a  bold  destrere  : 
I  will  not  have  black  Care  prevail 
Upon  my  long-eared  charger's  tail, 
Forlo,  1  am  a  witless  fool 
And  lau'h  at  Grief  ai»d  ride  a  mule-'*         . 


2So  REBECCA  AND  ROIVENA. 

And  his  bells  rattled  as  he  kicked  his  mule's  sides. 
"  Silence,  fool !  "  said  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  in  a  voice  both 
majestic  and  wrathful.     "  If  thou  knowest  not  care  and  grief,  it 
is  because  thou  knowest  not  love,  whereof  the^  are  the  com- 
panions.    Who  can  love  without  an  anxious  heart  ?  "     How 
shall  there  be  joy  at  meeting,  without  tears  at  parting  ?  "     ("  I 
did  not  see  that  his  honor  or  my  lady  shed  many  anon,"  thought 
Wamba  the  Fool  ;  but  he  was  only  a  zany,  and  his  mind  was 
not  right.)     "  I  would  not  exchange  my  ver)'  sorrows  for  thine 
indifference,"  the  knight  continued.     "Where  there  is  a  sun, 
there  must  be  a  shadow.     If  the  shadow  offend  me,  shall  I  put 
out  my  eyes  and  live  in  the  dark  l     No !     I  am  content  with 
my  fate,  even  such  as  it  is.     The  Care  of  which  thou  speakest, 
hard  though  it  may  vex  him,  never  yet  rode  down  an  honest 
man.     I   can  bear  him  on  my  shoulders,  and  make  my   n'ay 
through  the  world's  press  in  spite  of  him  ;  for  my  arm  is  strong 
and  my  sword  is  keen,  and  my  shield  has  no  stain  on  it  ;  and 
my  heart,  though   it  is  sad,  knows  no  guile."     And  here,  taking 
a  locket  out  of  his  waistcoat  (which  was  made  of  chain-mail), 
the  knight  kissed  the  token,  put  it  back  under  the  waistcoat 
again,  heaved  a  profound  sigh,  and  stuck  spurs  into  his  horse. 
As  for  Wamba,  he  was  munching  a  black  pudding  whilst 
Sir  Wilfrid  was  luaking  the  above  speech,  (which  implied  some 
secret  grief  on  the  knight's  part,  that  must  have  been  perfectly 
unintelligible  to  the  fool,)  and  so  did  not  listen  to  a  single  word 
of  Ivanhoe's  pompous  remarks.     They  travelled  on  by  slow 
stages  through  the  whole  kingdom,  until  they  came  to  Dover, 
whence  they  took  shipping  for  Calais.     And  in  this  little  voyage, 
being  exeedingly  sea-sick,  and  besides  elated  at  the  thought" of 
meeting  his  sovereign,  the  good  knight  cast  away  that  profouud 
melancholy  which  had  accompanied  him  during  the  whole  of 
his  land  journey. 


Chapter  II. 

THE    LAST   DAYS   OF   THE    LION. 


From  Calais  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  took  the  diligence 
across  country  to  Limoges,  sending  on  Gurth,  his  squire,  with 
the  horses  and  the  rest  of  his  attendants  j  with  the  exception 
of  Waraba,  who  travelled  not  only  as  the  knight's  fool,  but  as 


THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  LION.  281 

his  valet,  and  who,  perched  on  the  roof  of  the  carriage,  amused 
himself  by  blowing  tunes  upon  the  conJudeuf^s  French  horn. 
The  good  King  Richard  was,  as  Ivanhoe  learned,  in  the 
Limousin,  encamped  before  a  little  place  called  Chains  ;  the 
lord  whereof,  though  a  vassal  of  the  King's,  was  holding  the 
castle  against  his  sovereign  with  a  resolution  and  valor  which 
caused  a  great  fury  and  annoyance  on  the  part  of  the  Monarch 
with  the  Lion  Heart.  For  brave  and  magnanimous  as  he 
was,  the  Lion-hearted  one  did  not  love  to  be  baulked  any  more 
than  another  ;  and,  like  the  royal  animal  whom  he  was  said  to 
resemble,  he  commonly  tore  his  adversary  to  pieces,  and  then, 
perchance,  had  leisure  to  think  how  brave  the  latter  had  been. 
The  Count  of  Chains  had  found,  it  was  said,  a  pot  of  money  \ 
the  Royal  Richard  wanted  it.  As  the  count  denied  that  he 
had  it,  why  did  he  not  open  the  gates  of  his  castle  at  once  ?  It 
was  a  clear  proof  that  he  was  guilty  ;  and  the  King  was  deter- 
mined to  punish  this  rebel,  and  have  his  money  and  his  life 
too. 

He  had  naturally  brought  no  breaching  guns  with  him, 
because  those  instruments  were  not  yet  invented  ;  and  though 
he  had  assaulted  tha  place  a  score  of  times  with  the  utmost 
fury,  his  Majesty  had  been  beaten  back  on  ever\^  occasion, 
until  he  was  so  savage  that  it  was  dangerous  to  approach  the 
British  Lion.  The  Lion's  wife,  the  lovely  Eerengaria,  scarcely 
ventured  to  come  near  him.  He  flung  the  joint-stools  in  his 
tent  at  the  heads  of  the  officers  of  state,  and  kicked  his  aides- 
de-camp  round  his  pavilion  ;  and,  in  fact,  a  maid  of  honor,  v/ho 
brought  a  sack-posset  in  to  his  Majesty  from  the  Queen,  after 
he  came  in  from  the  assault,  came  spinning  like  a  football 
out  of  the  royal  tent  just  as  Ivanhoe  entered  it. 

"  Send  me  my  drum-major  to  flog  that  woman  !"  roared  out 
the  infuriate  King.  "  By  the  bones  of  St.  Barnabas  she  has 
burned  the  sack  !  By  St.  Wittikind,  I  will  have  her  flayed  alive. 
Ha,  St.  George  !  ha,  St.  Richard!  whom  have  we  here?"  And 
he  lifted  up  his  demi-culverin,  or  curtal-axe — a  weapon  weighing 
about  thirteen  hundredweight — and  was  about  to  fling  it  at  the 
intruder's  head,  when  the  latter,  kneeling  gracefully  on  one 
knee,  said  calmly,  "  It  is  I,  my  good  liege,  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe." 

"What,  Wilfrid  of  Templestowe,  Wilfrid  the  married  man, 
Wilfrid  the  henpecked  !  "  cried  the  King  with  a  sudden  burst  of 
good-humor,  flinging  away  the  culverin  from  him,  as  though  it 
had  been  a  reed  (it  lighted  three  hundred  yards  off,  on  the  foot 
of  Hugo  de  Bunyon,  who  was  smoking  a  cigar  at  the  door  of 
his  tent,  and  caused  that  redoubted  warrior  to  limp  for  some 


282  REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 

days  after),  "  What,  Wilfrid  my  gossip  ?  Art  come  to  see  the 
lion's  den  ?  There  are  bones  in  it,  man,  bones  and  carcases, 
and  the  lion  is  angry,"  said  the  King,  with  a  terrific  glare  of  his 
eyes.  "  But  tush  !  we  will  talk  of  that  anon.  Ho  !  bring  two 
gallons  of  hypocras  for  the  King  and  the  good  Knight,  Wilfrid 
of  Ivanhoe.  Thou  art  come  in  time,  Wilfrid,  for,  by  St.  Richard 
and  St.  George,  we  will  give  a  grand  assault  to-morrow.  There 
will  be  bones  broken,  ha  !  " 

"  I  care  not,  my  liege,"  said  Ivanhoe,  pledging  the  sovereign 
respectfully,  and  tossing  off  the  whole  contents  of  the  bowl  of 
hypocras  to  his  Highness's  good  health.  And  he  at  once 
appeared  to  be  taken  into  high  favor  ;  not  a  little  to  the  envy 
of  many  of  the  persons  surrounding  the  King. 

As  his  Majesty  said,  there  was  fighting  and  feasting  in  plenty 
before  Chalus.  Day  after  day,  the  besiegers  made  assaults 
upon  the  castle,  but  it  was  held  so  stoutly  by  the  Count  of 
Chalus  and  his  gallant  garrison,  that  each  afternoon  beheld  the 
attacking  parties  returning  disconsolately  to  their  tents,  leaving 
behind  them  many  of  their  own  slain,  and  bringing  back  with 
them  store  of  broken  heads  and  maimed  limbs,  received  in  the 
unsuccessful  onset.  The  valor  displayed  by  Ivanhoe  in  all 
these  contests  was  prodigious  ;  and  the  way  in  which  he  escaped 
death  from  the  discharges  of  mangonels,  catapults,  battering- 
rams,  twenty-four-pounders,  boiling  oil,  and  other  artillery,  with 
which  the  besieged  received  their  enemies,  was  remarkable. 
After  a  day's  fighting,  Gurth  and  Wamba  used  to  pick  the 
arrows  out  of  their  intrepid  master's  coat-of-mail,  as  if  they  had 
been  so  many  almonds  in  a  pudding.  'Twas  well  for  the  good 
knight,  that  under  his  first  coat-of-armor  he  wore  a  choice  suit 
of  Toledan  steel,  perfectly  impervious  to  arrow-shots,  and  given 
to  him  by  a  certain  Jew,  named  Isaac  of  York,  to  whom  he  had 
done  some  considerable  services  a  few  years  back. 

If  King  Richard  had  not  been  in  such  a  rage  at  the  repeated 
failures  of  his  attacks  upon  the  castle,  that  all  sense  of  justice 
was  blinded  in  the  lion-hearted  monarch,  he  woukl  have  been 
the  first  to  acknowledge  the  valor  of  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe, 
and  would  have  given  him  a  Peerage  and  the  Grand  Cross  of 
the  Bath  at  least  a  dozen  times  in  the  course  of  the  siege :  for 
Ivanhoe  led  more  than  a  dozen  storming-parties,  and  with  his 
own  hand  killed  as  many  men  (viz. :  two  thousand  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty-one)  within  six,  as  were  slain  by  the  lion-hearted 
monarch  himself.  But  his  Majesty  was  rather  disgusted  than 
pleased  by  his  faithful  servant's  prowess  ;  and  all  the  courtiers, 
who  hated  Ivanhoe  for  his  superior  valor  and  dexterity  (for  he 


THE  LAST  DA  YS  OF  THE  LION.  283 

would  kill  you  off  a  couple  of  hundred  of  them  of  Chalus,  whilst 
the  strongest  champions  of  the  King's  host  could  not  finish 
more  than  their  two  dozen  of  a  day),  poisoned  the  royal  mind 
against  Sir  Wilfrid,  and  made  the  King  look  upon  his  feats  of 
arms  with  an  evil  eye.  Roger  de  Backbite  sneeringly  told  the 
King  that  Sir  Wilfrid  had  offered  to  bet  an  equal  bet  that  he 
would  kill  more  men  than  Richard  himself  in  the  next  assault : 
Peter  de  Toadhole  said  that  Ivanhoe  stated  everywhere,  that 
his  Majesty  was  not  the  man  he  used  to  be ;  tlmt  pleasures  and 
drink  had  enervated  him  ;  that  he  could  neither  ride,  nor  strike 
a  blow  with  sword  or  axe,  as  he  had  been  enabled  to  do  in  the 
old  times  in  Palestine :  and  finally,  in  the  twenty-fifth  assault, 
in  which  they  had  very  nearly  carried  the  place,  and  in  which 
onset  Ivanhoe  slew  seven,  and  his  Majesty  six,  of  the  sons  of 
the  Count  de  Chalus,  its  defender,  Ivanhoe  almost  did  for  him- 
self, by  planting  his  banner  before  the  King's  upon  the  wall  ; 
and  only  rescued  himself  from  utter  disgrace  by  saving  his 
Majesty's  life  several  times  in  the  course  of  this  most  desperate 
onslaught. 

Then  the  luckless  knight's  very  virtues  (as,  no  doubt,  my 
respected  readers  know)  made  him  enemies  amongst  the  men — • 
nor  was  Ivanhoe  liked  by  the  women  frequenting  the  camp  of 
the  gay  King  Richard.  His  young  Queen,  and  a  brilliant  court 
of  ladies,  attended  the  pleasure-loving  monarch.  His  Majesty 
would  transact  business  in  the  morning,  then  fight  severely  from 
after  breakfast  till  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  ;  from 
which  time,  until  after  midnight,  there  was  nothing  but  jigging 
and  singing,  feasting  aiul  revelry,  in  the  royal  tents.  Ivanhoe, 
who  was  asked  as  a  matter  of  ceremony,  and  forced  to  attend 
these  entertainments,  not  caring  about  the  blandishments  of 
any  of  the  ladies  present,  looked  on  at  their  ogling  and  dancing 
with  a  countenance  as  glum  as  an  undertaker's,  and  was  a  per- 
fect wet-blanket  in  the  midst  of  the  festivities.  His  favorite 
resort  and  conversation  were  with  a  remarkably  austere  hermit, 
who  lived  in  the  neighborhood  of  Chalus,  and  with  whom  Ivan- 
hoe loved  to  talk  about  Palestine,  and  the  Jews,  and  other  grave 
matters  of  import,  better  than  to  mingle  in  the  gayest  amuse- 
ments of  the  court  of  King  Richard.  Many  a  night,  when  the 
Queen  and  the  ladies  were  dancing  quadrilles  and  polkas,  (in 
which  his  Majesty,  who  was  enormously  stout  as  well  as  tall, 
insisted  upon  figuring,  and  in  which  he  was  about  as  graceful 
as  an  elephant  dancing  a  hornpipe,)  Ivanhoe  would  steal  away 
from  the  ball,  and  come  and  have  a  night's  chat  under  the  moon 
with  his  reverend  friend.     It  pained  him  to  see  a  man  of  tha 


284  liEBECCA  AND  ROIVENA. 

King's  age  and  size  dancing  about  with  the  young  folks.  They 
laughed  at  his  Majesty  whilst  they  flattered  him  :  the  pages  and 
maids  of  honor  mimicked  the  royal  mountebank  almost  to  his 
face  ;  and,  if  Ivanhoe  ever  could  have  laughed,  he  certainly 
would  one  night,  when  the  King,  in  light-blue  satin  inexpres- 
sibles, with  his  hair  in  powder,  chose  to  dance  the  minuet  de  la 
cour  with  the  little  Queen  Berengaria. 

Then,  after  dancing,  his  Majesty  must  needs  order  a  guitar, 
and  begin  to  sing.  He  was  said  to  compose  his  own  songs — 
words  and  music — but  those  who  have  read  Lord  Campobello-s 
"  Lives  of  the  Lord  Chancellors,"  are  aware  that  there  was  a 
person  by  the  name  of  Blondel,  who,  in  fact,  did  all  the  musical 
part  of  the  King's  performances  ;  and  as  for  the  words,  when  a 
king  writes  verses,  we  may  be  sure  there  will  be  plenty  of 
people  to  admire  his  poetry.  His  Majesty  would  sing  you  a 
ballad,  of  which  he  had  stolen  every  idea,  to  an  air  that  was 
ringing  on  all  the  barrel-organs  of  Christendom,  and,  turning 
round  to  his  courtiers,  would  say, ."  How  do  you  like  that  ?  I 
dashed  it  off  this  morning."  Or,  "  Blondel,  what  do  you  think 
of  this  movement  in  B  flat  ? "  or  what  not ;  and  the  courtiers 
and  Blondel,  you  may  be  sure,  would  applaud  with  all  their 
might,  like  hypocrites  as  they  were. 

One  evening — it  was  the  evening  of  the  27th  March,  1199, 
indeed — his  Majesty,  who  was  in  the  musical  mood,  treated  the 
court  with  a  quantity  of  his  so-called  composition,  until  the 
people  were  fairly  tired  of  clapping  with  their  hands  and  laugh- 
ing in  their  sleeves.  First  he  sang  an  original  air  and  poem, 
beginning  » 

"  Cherries  nice,  cherries  nice,  nice,  come  choose, 
Fresh  and  fair  ones,  who'll  refuse  ?  "  &c. 

The  which  he  was  ready  to  take  his  affidavit  he  had  com- 
posed the  day  before  yesterday.  Then  he  sang  an  equally 
original  heroic  melody,  of  which  the  chorus  was 

"  Rule  Britannia,  Britannia  rules  the  sea, 

For  Dritons  never,  never,  never  slaves  shall  be,"  &c. 

The  courtiers  applauded  this  song  as  they  did  the  other,  all 
except  Ivanhoe,  who  sat  without  changing  a  muscle  of  his  fea- 
tures, until  the  King  questioned  him,  when  the  knight  with  a 
bow  said  '  he  thought  he  had  heard  something  very  like  the  air 
and  the  words  elsewhere.'  His  Majesty  scowled  at  him  a 
savage  glance  from  under  his  red  bushy  eyebrows  ;  but  Ivan- 
hoe had  saved  the  royal  life  that  day,  and  the  King,  therefore, 
with  difficulty  controlled  his  indignation. 


THE  LAST  DA  YS  OF  THE  LION:  285 

"Well,"  said  he,  "by  St.  Richard  and  St.  George,  but  j-e 
never  heard  this  song,  for  I  composed  it  this  very  afternoon  as 
I  took  my  bath  after  the  melee.     Did  I  not,  Blondel  ?  " 

Blondel,  of  course,  was  ready  to  take  an  affidavit  that  his 
Majesty  had  done  as  he  said,  and  the  King,  thrumming  on  his 
guitar  with  his  great  red  fingers  and  thumbs,  began  to  sing  out 
of  tune,  and  as  follows  : — 

•'COMMANDERS  OF  THE  FAITHFUL. 

"  The  Pope  be  is  a  happy  man, 
His  Palace  is  tlie  Vatican, 
And  there  he  sits  and  drains  his  can : 
Tlie  Pope  he  is  a  happy  man. 
I  often  say  when  I'm  at  home, 
I'd  like  to  be  the  Pope  of  Rome. 

"  And  then  there's  Sultan  Saladin, 
That  Turkish  Soldan  full  of  sin  ; 
He  has  a  hundred  wives  at  least, 
By  which  his  pleasure  is  increased: 
I've  often  w'ished,  I  hope  no  sin, 
That  I  were  Sultan  Saladin. 

"  But  no,  the  Pope  no  wife  may  choose, 
And  so  I  would  not  wear  his  shoes  ; 
No  wine  may  drink  the  proud  Paynim» 
And  so  I'd  rather  not  be  him  : 
My  wife,  my  wine,  I  love  I  hope, 
And  would  be  neither  Turk  nor  Pope." 

"  Encore  !  Encore  !  Bravo  !  Bis  ! ! ''  Everybody  applauded 
the  King's  song  with  all  his  might  :  everybody  except  Ivanhoe, 
who  preserved  his  abominable  gravity ;  and  when  asked  aloud 
by  Roger  de  Backbite  whether  he  had  heard  that  too,  said 
firmly,  "  Yes,  Roger  de  Backbite  ;  and  so  hast  thou  if  thou 
darest  but  tell  the  truth." 

"  Now,  by  St.  Cicely,  may  I  never  touch  gittern  again," 
bawled  the  King  in  a  fury,  "if  every  note,  word,  and  thought 
be  not  mine  ;  may  I  die  in  to-morrow's  onslaught  if  the  song 
be  not  my  song.  Sing  thyself,  Wilfrid  of  the  Lanthorn  Jaws  ; 
thou  could'st  sing  a  good  song  in  old  times."  And  with  all  his 
might,  and  with  a  forced  laugh,  the  King,  who  loved  brutal 
practical  jests,  flung  his  guitar  at  the  head  of  Ivanhoe. 

Sir  Wilfrid  caught  it  gracefully  with  one  hand,  and  making 
an  elegant  bow  to  the  sovereign,  began  to  chant  as  follows  : — 

"KING  CANUTE. 

"  King  Canute  was  weary-hearted ;  he  had  reigned  for  years  a  score, 
Battling,  struggling,  pushing,  fighting,  killing  much  and  robbing  more  J 
And  he  thought  upon  his  actions,  walking  by  the  wild  sea-shore. 

'"Twixt  the  Chancellor  and  Bishop  walked  the  King  with  steps  sedate, 
C!i-iin'i^rlains  p.nd  grooin ;  came  after,  silvcrstic'—  ard  rn'^sticks  great, 
Clnplains,  aides-de-camp,  and  i/ag;:s,  — a!l  ihj  ofiiceri  cf  •-.late. 


2g5  REBECCA  AND  R  OWEN  A. 

"  Sliding  after  like  his  shadow,  pausing  when  he  chose  to  pause,    _ 

If  a  frown  his  face  contracted,  straight  the  courtiers  dropped  their  laws, 

If  to  laugh  the  King  was  minded,  out  they  burst  in  loud  hee-haws. 

"  But  that  day  a  something  vexed  him,  that  was  clear  to  old  and  young  : 
Thrice  his  Grace  had  yawned  at  table,  when  his  favorite  gleemen  sung. 
Once  the  Queen  would  have  consoled  him,  but  he  bade  her  hold  her  tongufti 

"  '  Something  ails  my  £;racious  master,'  cried  the  Keeper  of  the  Seal. 

♦  Sure,  my  lord,  it  is  the  lampreys  served  at  dinner,  or  tho  veal .' 

'  Psha !  '  exclaimed  the  angry  monarch.     '  Keeper,   tis  not  that  1  teel. 

"  '  'Tis  the  Jiecirt,  and  not  the  dinner,  fool,  that  doth  my  rest  impair: 

Can  a  kiin?  be  srreat  as  I  am,  prithee,  and  yet  know  no  care  ?  ,    •   ,  . 

Oh,  I'm  sick,  and  tired,  and  weary.'-Some  one  cried,  '  The  King's  arm-chair  t 

«  Then  towards  the  lackeys  turning,  quick  my  Lord  the  Keeper  nodded,  ^ 

Straight  the  King's  great  chair  was  brought  him,  by  two  footmen  able-bodied  , 
Languidly  he  sank  into  it :  it  was  comfortably  wadded. 

" '  Leading  on  my  fierce  companions,'  cried  he,  '  over  storm  and  brine,  ^ 
I  have  fought  and  I  have  conquered  !     Where  was  glory  like  to  mine  ? 
Loudly  all  the  courtiers  echoed  :  '  Where  is  glory  like  to  thine  ? 

"  '  What  avail  me  all  my  kingdoms?     Weary  am  I  now,  and  old  ; 
Those  fair  sons  I  have  begotten,  long  to  see  me  dead  and  cold  ; 
Would  I  were,  and  quiet  burled,  underneath  the  silent  mould! 

"  '  Oh,  remorse,  the  writhing  serpent !  at  my  bosom  tears  and  bites  ; 
Horrid,  horrid  tilings  I  look  on,  though  I  put  out  all  the  lights ; 
Ghosts  of  ghastly  recollections  troop  about  my  bed  of  nights. 

"  '  Cities  burning,  convents  blazing,  red  with  sacrilegious  fires  ;      _        ^ 
Mothers  weeping,  virgins  screaming,  vainly  for  their  slaughtered  sires.  — 
'  Such  a  tender  conscience,'  cries  the  Bishop,  '  every  one  admires. 

"  '  But  for  such  unpleasant  by-gones,  cease,  my  gracious  lord,  to  search. 
They're  forgotten  and  forgiven  by  our  Holy  Mother  Church  ; 
Never,  never  does  she  leave  her  benefactors  in  the  lurch. 

"  '  Look !  the  land  is  crowned  with  minsters,  which  your  Grace's  bounty  raised  ; 
Abbeys  filled  with  holy  men,  where  you  and  Heaven  are  daily  praised  : 
Yon,  my  lord,  to  think  of  dying  ?  on  my  conscience  I'm  amazed  I 

"  '  Nay,  I  feel,'  replied  King  Canute,  '  that  my  end  is  drawing  near.' 
♦Don't  say  so,'  exclaimed  the  courtiers  (striving  each  to  squeeze  a  tear), 
•Sure  your  grace  is  strong  and  lusty,  and  may  live  this  fifty  year. 

"  '  Live  these  fifty  years  !  '  the  Bishop  roared,  with  actions  made  to  suit. 
'  Are  you  mad,  my  good  Lord  Keeper,  thus  to  speak  of  King  Canute  . 
Men  have  lived  a  thousand  years,  and  sure  his  Majesty  will  do  t. 


"  '  Adam,  Enoch,  Lamech,  Cainan,  Mahaleel,  Methusela, 

Lived  nine  hundred  years  apiece,  and  mayn't  the  King  as  well  as  they 

«  Fervently,'  exclaimed  the  Keeper,  '  fervently  I  trust  he  may. 

"  '  He  to  die  ? '  resumed  the  Bishop.     '  He  a  mortal  like  to  tts  ? 
Death  was  not  for  him  intended,  though  communh  otnnibus  : 
Keeper,  are  you  irreligious,  for  to  talk  and  cavil  thus. 

"  '  With  his  wondrous  skill  in  healing  ne'er  a  doctor  can  compete, 
Loathsome  lepers,  if  he  touch  them,  start  up  clean  upon  their  feet; 
Surely  he  could  raise  the  dead  up,  did  his  Highness  think  it  meet. 

"  '  Did  not  once  the  Jewish  captain  stay  the  sun  upon  the  hill. 
And,  the  while  he  sle"w  the  focmen,  bid  the  silver  moon  stand  still? 
So,  no  doubt,  could  gracious  Canute,  if  it  were  his  sarred  will. 
"  '  Might  I  stay  the  sun  above  us,  good  Sir  Bishoii?'  Canute  cried; 
'Could  I  bid  tlie  silver  moon  to  pause  iDon  Iier  hoaveiily  nde? 
If  the  moon  obeys  my  orders,  sure  1  can  command  the  tide. 


ST.  GEORGE  FOR  ENGLAND.  287^ 

"*  Will  the  advancing  waves  obey  me,  Bishop,  if  I  make  the  sign  ?' 
Said  the  Bishop,  bowmg  lowly,  '  Land  and  sea,  my  lord,  are  thine.' 
Canute  turned  towards  the  ocean — '  Back!  '  he  said,  '  thou  foaming  brme. 

"  *  From  the  sacred  rhore  I  stand  on,  I  command  thee  to  retreat  ; 
Venture  not,  thou  stormy  rebel ,  to  approach  thy  master's  seat : 
Ocean,  be  thou  still !   I  bid  thee  come  not  i.earer  to  my  feet !  ' 

"  But  the  sullen  ocean  answered  with  a  louder,  deeper  roar. 
And  the  rapid  waves  drew  nearer,  falling  oounding  on  the  shore  ; 
Back  the  Keeper  and  the  Bishop,  back  the  King  and  courtiers  bore. 

"  And  he  sternly  bade  them  never  more  to  kneel  to  human  clay, 
But  alone  to  praise  and  worship  Tliat  which  earth  and  seas  obey: 
And  his  golden  crown  of  empire  never  wore  he  from  that  day. 
King  Canute  is  dead  and  gone  :  Parasites  exist  alway." 

At  this  ballad,  which,  to  be  sure,  was  awfully  long,  and  as 
grave  as  a  sermon,  some  of  the  courtiers  tittered,  some  yawned, 
and  some  affected  to  be  asleep  and  snore  outright.  But  Roger 
de  Backbite  thinking  to  curry  favor  with  the  King  by  this 
piece  of  vulgarity,  his  Majesty  fetched  him  a  knock  on  the 
nose  and  a  buffet  on  the  ear,  which,  I  warrant  me,  wakened 
Master  Roger  ;  to  whom  the  King  said,  "  Listen  and  be  civil, 
slave  ;  Wilfrid  is  singing  about  thee. — Wilfrid,  thy  ballad  is 
long,  but  it  is  to  the  purpose,  and  I  have  grown  cool  during 
thy  homily.  Give  me  thy  hand,  honest  friend.  Ladies,  good- 
night. Gentlemen,  we  give  the  grand  assault  to-morrow ; 
when  I  promise  thee,  Wilfrid,  thy  banner  shall  not  be  before 
mine." — And  the  King,  giving  his  arm  to  her  Majesty,  retired 
into  the  private  pavilion 


Chapter  IIL 
st.  george  for  england. 


Whilst  the  royal  Richard  and  his  court  were  feasting  in 
the  camp  outside  the  walls  of  Chains,  they  of  the  castle  were 
in  the  most  miserable  plight  that  in.ay  be  conceived.  Hunger, 
as  well  as  the  fierce  assaults  of  the  besiegers,  had  made  dire 
ravages  in  the  place.  The  garrison's  provisions  of  corn  and 
cattle,  their  very  horses,  dogs,  and  donkeys  had  been  eaten  up 
— so  that  it  might  well  be  said  by  Wamba  "that  famine,  as 
well  as  slaughter,  had  thinned  the  garrison."  When  the  men 
of  Chains  came  on  the  walls  to  defend  it  against  the  scaling- 
[-•rirties  of  King  Richard,  they  were  like  so  many  skeletons  in 


288  REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 

armor ;  they  could  hardly  pull  their  bow-strings  at  last,  oi 
pitch  down  stones  on  the  heads  of  his  Majesty's  party,  so  weak 
had  their  arms  become  ;  and  the  gigantic  Count  of  Chalus — a 
warrior  as  redoubtable  for  his  size  and  strength  as  Richard 
Plantagenet  himself — was  scarcely  able  to  lift  up  his  battle-axe 
upon  the  day  of  that  last  assault,  when  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe 
ran  him  through  the but  we  are  advancing  matters. 

What  should  prevent  me  from  describing  the  agonies  of 
hunger  which  the  Count  (a  man  of  large  appetite)  suffered  in 
company  with  his  heroic  sons  and  garrison  ? — Nothing,  but 
that  Dante  has  already  done  the  business  in  the  notorious  his- 
tory of  Count  Ugolino  ;  so  that  my  efforts  might  be  considered 
as  mere  imitations.  Why  should  I  not,  if  I  were  minded  to 
revel  in  horrifying  details,  show  you  how  the  famished  garrison 
drew  lots,  and  ate  themselves  during  the  siege  ;  and  how  the 
unlucky  lot  falling  upon  the  Countess  of  Chalus,  that  heroic 
woman,  taking  an  affectionate  leave  of  her  family,  caused  her 
large  cauldron  in  the  castle  kitchen  to  be  set  a-boiling,  had 
onions,  carrots  and  herbs,  pepper  and  salt  made  ready,  to  make 
a  savory  soup,  as  the  French  like  it;  and  when  all  things 
were  quite  completed,  kissed  her  children,  juinped  into  the 
cauldron  from  off  a  kitchen  stool,  and  so  was  stewed  down  in 
her  flannel  bedgown?  Dear  friends,  it  is  not  from  waiit  of 
imagination,  or  from  having  no  turn  for  the  terrible  or  patlietic^ 
that  I  spare  you  these  details.  I  could  give  you  some  descrip- 
tion that  would  spoil  your  dinner  and  night's  rest,  and  make 
your  hair  stand  on  end.  But  why  harrow  your  feelings  ?  Fancy 
all  the  tortures  and  horrors  that  possibly  can  occur  in  a  be- 
leaguered and  famished  castle  :  fancy  the  feelings  of  men  who 
know  that  no  more  quarter  will  be  given  them  than  they  wci.ld 
get  if  they  were  peaceful  Hungarian  citizens  kidnapped  ainl 
brought  to  trial  by  his  Majesty  the  Emperor  of  Austria;  aivd 
then  let  us  rush  on  to  the  breach  and  prepare  once  more  to 
meet  the  assault  of  dreadful  King  Richard  and  his  men. 

On  the  29th  of  March  in  the  year  1199,  the  good  King, 
having  copiously  partaken  of  breakfast,  caused  his  trumpets  to 
blow,  and  advanced  with  his  host  upon  the  breach  of  the  castle 
of  Chalus.  Arthur  de  Pendennis  bore  his  banner ;  Wilfrid  of 
Ivanhoe  fought  on  the  King's  right  hand.  Molyneux,  Bishop 
of  Bullocksmithy,  doffed  crozier  and  mitre  for  that  day,  and 
though  fat  and  pursy,  panted  up  the  breach  with  the  most 
resolute  «pirit,  roaring  out  war-cries  and  curses,  and  wielding  a 
prodigious  mace  of  iron,  with  which  he  did  good  execution. 
Roger  de  Backbite  was  forcerl  to  come  in  attcndanci^  rpon  the 


ST.  GEORGE  FOR  ENGLAND.  289 

sovereign,  but  took  care  to  keep  in  the  rear  of  his  august  mas- 
ter, and  to  shelter  behind  his  huge  triangular  shield  as  much 
as  possible.  Many  lords  of  note  followed  the  King  and  bore 
the  ladders  ;  and  as  they  were  placed  against  the  wall,  the  air 
was  perfectly  dark  with  the  shower  of  arrows  which  the  French 
archers  poured  out  at  the  besiegers,  and  the  cataract  of  stones, 
kettles,  bootjacks,  chests  of  drawers,  crockery,  umbrellas,  con- 
greve-rockets,  bombshells,  bolts  and  arrows  and  other  missiles 
which  the  desperate  garrison  flung  out  on  the  storming-party. 
The  King  received  a  copper  coal-scuttle  right  over  his  eyes, 
and  a  mahogany  wardrobe  was  discharged  at  his  morion,  which 
ivould  have  felled  an  ox,  and  would  have  done  for  the  King 
had  not  Ivanhoe  warded  it  off  skilfully.  Still  they  advanced, 
the  warriors  falling  around  them  like  grass  beneath  the  .scythe 
of  the  mower. 

The  ladders  were  placed  in  spite  of  the  hail  of  death  rain- 
ing round  :  the  king  and  Ivanhoe  were,  of  course,  the  first  to 
mount  them.  Chains  stood  in  the  breach,  borrowing  strength 
from  despair;  and  roaring  out,  "Hal  Plantagenet,  Sainte 
Barbacue  for  Chains  !  "  he  dealt  the  King  a  crack  across  the 
helmet  with  his  battle-axe,  which  shore  off  the  gilt  lion  and 
crown  that  surmounted  the  steel  cap.  The  King  bent  and 
reeled  back  ;  the  beseigers  were  dismayed  ;  the  garrison  and 
the  Count  of  Chains  set  up  a  shout  of  triumph  :  but  it  was  pre- 
mature. 

As  quick  as  thought  Ivanhoe  was  into  the  Count  with  a 
thrust  in  tierce,  which  took  him  just  at  the  joint  of  the  armor, 
and  ran  him  through  as  clean  as  a  spit  does  a  partridge. 
Uttering  a  horrid  shriek,  he  fell  back  writhing;  the  King 
recovering  staggered  up  the  parapet ;  the  rush  of  knights  fol- 
lowed, and  the  union-jack  was  planted  triumphantly  on  the 
walls,  just  as  Ivanhoe, — but  we  must  leave  him  for  a  moment, 

"  Ha,  St.  Richard  ! — ha,  St.  George  1  "  the  tremendous  voice 
of  the  Lion-king  was  heard  over  the  loudest  roar  of  the  onset. 
At  every  sweep  of  his  blade  a  severed  head  flew  over  the  para- 
pet, a  spouting  trunk  tumbled,  bleeding,  on  the  flags  of  the 
bartizan.  The  world  hath  never  seen  a  warrior  equal  to  that 
Lion-hearted  Plantagenet,  as  he  raged  over  the  keep,  his  eyes 
flashing  fire  through  the  bars  of  his  morion,  snorting  and  chaf- 
ing with  the  hot  lust  of  battle.  One  by  one  /es  enfans  dc  Chains 
had  fallen  :  there  was  only  one  left  at  last  of  all  the  brave  race 
that  had  fought  round  the  gallant  Count: — only  one,  and  but  a 
boy,  a  fair-haired  boy,  a  blue-eyed  boy  !  he  had  been  gathering 
pau'iies  in  tne  fields  but  yesterday — it  was  but  a  few  years,  and 


290 


REBECCA  AND  ROWENA, 


he  was  a  baby  in  his  mother's  arms !  What  could  his  puny 
sword  do  against  the  most  redoubted  blade  in  Christendom  ? — ■ 
and  yet  Bohemond  faced  the  great  champion  of  England,  and 
met  him  foot  to  foot !  Turn  away,  turn  away,  my  dear  young 
friends  and  kind-hearted  ladies !  Do  not  look  at  that  ill-fated 
poor  boy !  his  blade  is  crushed  into  splinters  under  the  axe  of 
the  conqueror,  and  the  poor  child  is  beaten  to  his  knee  1   *  *  * 

"  Now,  by  St.  Barbacue  of  Limoges,"  said  Bertrand  de 
Gourdon,  "  the  butcher  will  never  strike  down  yonder  lambling  ! 
Hold  thy  hand.  Sir  King,  or,  by  St.  Barbacue " 

Swift  as  thought  the  veteran  archer  raised  his  arblast  to  his 
shoulder,  the  whizzing  bolt  fled  from  the  ringing  string,  and  the 
next  moment  crashed  quivering  into  the  corselet  of  Plantagenet. 

'Twas  a  luckless  shot,  Bertrand  of  Gourdon  !  Maddened  by 
the  pain  of  the  wound,  the  brute  nature  of  Richard  was  aroused  : 
his  fiendish  appetite  for  blood  rose  to  madness,  and  grinding 
his  teeth,  and  with  a  curse  too  horrible  to  mention,  the  flashing 
axe  of  the  royal  butcher  fell  down  on  the  blonde  ringlets  of  the 
child,  and  the  children  of  Chains  were  no  more  1     *     *     *     * 

I  just  throw  this  off  by  way  of  description,  and  to  show 
what  might  be  done  if  I  chose  to  indulge  in  this  style  of  compo- 
sition ;  but  as  in  the  battles  which  are  described  by  the  kindly 
chronicler,  of  one  of  whose  works  this  present  masterpiece  is 
professedly  a  continuation,  everything  passes  off  agreeably — the 
people  are  slain,  but  without  any  unpleasant  sensation  to  the 
reader ;  nay,  some  of  the  most  savage  and  blood-stained 
characters  of  history,  such  is  the  indomitable  good-humor  of 
the  great  novelist,  become  amiable,  jovial  companions,  for 
whom  one  has  a  hearty  sympathy — so,  if  you  please,  we  Avill 
have  this  fighting  business  at  Chains,  and  the  garrison  and 
honest  Bertrand  of  Gourdon,  disposed  of  ;  the  former,  accord- 
to  the  usage  of  the  good  old  times,  having  been  hung  up  or 
murdered  to  a  man,  and  the  latter  killed  in  the  manner 
described  by  the  late  Dr.  Goldsmith  in  his  History. 

As  for  the  Lion-hearted,  we  all  very  well  know  that  the 
shaft  of  Bertrand  de  Gourdon  put  an  end  to  the  royal  hero — ■ 
and  that  from  that  29th  of  March  he  never  robbed  nor  mur- 
dered any  more.  And  we  have  legends  in  recondite  books  of 
the  manner  of  the  King's  death. 

"  You  must  die,  my  son,"  said  the  venerable  Walter  of 
Rouen,  as  Berengaria  was  carried  shrieking  from  the  King's 
tent.  "Repent  Sir  King,  and  separate  yourself  from  your 
children  I " 


ST.  GEORGE  FOR  ENGLAND.  joj 

"  It  IS  ill  jesting  with  a  dying  man,"  replied  the  King. 
"  Children  have  I  none,  my  good  lord  bishop,  to  inherit  after 
me." 

"  Richard  of  England,"  said  the  archbishop,  turning  up  his 
fine  eyes,  "  your  vices  are  your  children.  Ambition  is  your 
eldest  child.  Cruelty  is  your  second  child.  Luxury  is  your  third 
child ;  and  you  have  nourished  them  from  your  youth  up. 
Separate  yourself  from  these  sinful  ones,  and  prepare  your  soul, 
for  the  hour  of  departure  draweth  nigh." 

Violent,  wicked,  sinful,  as  he  might  have  been,  Richard  of 
England  met  his  death  like  a  Christian  man.  Peace  be  to  the 
soul  of  the  brave  !  When  the  news  came  to  King  Philip  of 
France,  he  sternly  forbade  his  courtiers  to  rejoice  at  the  death 
of  his  enemy.  "It  is  no  matter  of  joy  but  of  dolour,"  he  said, 
"  that  the  bulwark  of  Christendom  and  the  bravest  king  of 
Europe  is  no  more." 

Meanwhile  what  has  become  of  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe, 
whom  we  left  in  the  act  of  rescuing  his  sovereign  by  running 
the  Count  of  Chalus  through  the  body  ? 

As  the  good  knight  stooped  down  to  pick  his  sword  out  of 
the  corpse  of  his  fallen  foe,  some  one  coming  behind  him  sud- 
denly thrust  a  dagger  into  his  back  at  a  place  where  his  shirt- 
of-mail  was  open  (for  Sir  Wilfrid  had  armed  that  morning  in  a 
hurry,  and  it  was  his  breast,  not  his  back,  that  he  was  accus- 
tomed ordinarily  to  protect)  ;  and  when  poor  Wamba  came  up 
on  the  rampart,  which  he  did  when  the  fighting  was  over, — being 
such  a  fool  that  he  could  not  be  got  to  thrust  his  head  into 
danger  for  glory's  sake — he  found  his  dear  knight  with  the  dag- 
ger in  his  back  lying  without  life  upon  the  body  of  the  Count  de 
Chalus  whom  he  had  anon  slain. 

Ah,  what  a  howl  poor  Wamba  set  up  when  he  found  his 
master  killed  !  How  he  lamented  over  the  corpse  of  that  noble 
knight  and  friend  !  What  mattered  it  to  him  that  Richard  the 
King  was  borne  wounded  to  his  tent,  and  that  Bertrand  de 
Gourdon  was  flayed  alive .?  At  another  time  the  sight  of  this 
spectacle  might  have  amused  the  simple  knave  ;  but  now  all 
his  thoughts  were  of  his  lord  :  so  good,  so  gentle,  so  kind,  so 
loyal,  so  frank  with  the  great,  so  tender  to  the  poor,  so  truthful 
of  speech,  so  modest  regarding  his  own  merit,  so  true  a  gentle- 
man, in  a  word,  that  anybody  might,  with  reason,  deplore  him. 

As  Wamba  opened  the  dear  knight's  corselet,  he  found  a 
locket  round  his  neck,  in  which  there  was  some  hair  ;  not  flaxen 
like  that  of  my  Lady  Rowena,  who  was  almost  as  fair  as  aa 


292 


REBECCA  AND  ROIVENA. 


Albino,  but  as  black,  Wamba  thought,  as  the  locks  of  the 
Jewish  maiden  whom  the  knight  had  rescued  in  the  lists  of 
Templestowe.  A  bit  of  Rowena's  hair  was  in  Sir  Wilfrid's 
possession,  too ;  but  that  was  in  his  jDurse  along  with  his  seal 
of  arms,  and  a  couple  of  groats  :  for  the  good  knight  never  kept 
any  money,  so  generous  was  he  of  his  largesses  when  money 
came  in. 

Wamba  took  the  purse,  and  seal,  and  groats,  but  he  left  the 
locket  of  hair  round  his  master's  neck,  and  when  he  returned  to 
England  never  said  a  word  about  the  circumstance.  After  all, 
how  should  he  know  whose  hair  it  was  .-*  It  might  have  been 
the  knight's  grandmother's  hair  for  aught  the  fool  knew  ;  so  he 
kept  his  counsel  when  he  brought  back  the  sad  news  and  tokens 
to  the  disconsolate  widow  at  Rotherwood. 

The  poor  fellow  would  never  have  left  the  body  at  all,  and 
indeed  sat  by  it  all  night,  and  until  the  gray  of  the  morning  j 
when,  seeing  two  suspicious-looking  characters  advancing 
towards  him,  he  fled  in  dismay,  supposing  that  they  were 
marauders  who  were  out  searching  for  booty  among  the  dead 
bodies ;  and  having  not  the  least  courage,  he  fled  from  these, 
and  tumbled  down  the  breach,  and  never  stopped  running  as 
fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him,  until  he  reached  the  tent  of 
his  late  beloved  master. 

The  news  of  the  knight's  demise,  it  appeared,  had  been 
known  at  his  quarters  long  before  ;  for  his  servants  were 
gone,  and  had  ridden  off  on  his  horses ;  his  chests  were  plun- 
dered :  there  was  not  so  much  as  a  shirt-collar  left  in  his 
drawers,  and  the  very  bed  and  blankets  had  been  carried  away 
by  i\\Qsefait/ifi/l  attendants.  Who  had  slain  Ivanhoe  ?  That 
remains  a  mystery  to  the  present  day ;  but  Roger  de  Backbite, 
whose  nose  he  had  pulled  for  defamation,  and  who  was  behind 
him  in  the  assault  at  Chalus,  was  seen  two  years  afterwards  at 
the  court  of  King  John  in  an  embroidered  velvet  waistcoat 
which  Rowena  could  have  sworn  she  had  worked  for  Ivanhoe, 
and  about  which  the  widow  would  have  made  some  little  noise, 
but  that — but  that  she  was  no  longer  a  widow. 

That  she  truly  deplored  the  death  of  her  lord  cannot  be 
questioned,  for  she  ordered  the  deepest  mourning  which  any 
milliner  could  supply,  and  erected  a  monument  to  his  mem- 
ory as  big  as  a  minster.  But  she  was  a  lady  of  such  fine 
principles,  that  she  did  not  allow  her  grief  to  overmaster  her ; 
and  an  opportunity  speedily  arising  for  uniting  the  best  Saxon 
families  in  England,  by  an  alliance  between  herself  and  the 
gentleman  who  offered  himself  to  her,  Rowena  sacrificed  her 


ST.  GEORGE  FOR  ENGLAND. 


?93 


inclination  to  remain  single,  to  her  sense  of  duty ;  and  con- 
tracted a  second  matrimonial  engagement. 

That  Athelstane  was  the  man,  1  suppose  no  reader  familiar 
with  life,  and  novels  which  are  a  rescript  of  life,  and  are  all 
strictly  natural  and  edifying,  can  for  a  moment  doubt.  Cardi- 
nal Pandulfo  tied  the  knot  for  them  :  and  lest  there  should  be 
any  doubt  about  Ivanhoe's  death  (for  his  body  was  never  sent 
home  after  all,  nor  seen  after  Wamba  ran  away  from  it),  his 
Eminence  procured  a  Papal  decree  annulling  the  former  mar- 
riage, so  that  Rowena  became  Mrs.  Athelstane  with  a  clear 
conscience.  And  who  shall  be  surprised,  if  she  was  happier 
with  the  stupid  and  boozy  Thane  than  with  the  gentle  and  mel- 
ancholy Wilfrid  ?  Did  women  never  have  a  predilection 
for  fools,  I  should  like  to  know  ;  or  fall  in  love  with  donkeys, 
before  the  time  of  the  amours  of  Bottom  and  Titania  .''  Ah ! 
Mary,  had  you  not  preferred  an  ass  to  a  man,  would  you  have 
married  Jack  Bray,  when  a  Michael  Angelo  offered  .-'  Ah  ! 
Fanny,  were  you  not  a  woman,  would  you  persist  in  adoring 
Tom  Hiccups,  who  beats  you,  and  comes  home  tipsy  from  the 
Club  ?  Yes,  Rowena  cared  a  hundred  times  more  about  tipsy 
Athelstane  than  ever  she  had  done  for  gentle  Ivanhoe,  and  so 
great  was  her  infatuation  about  the  former,  that  she  would  sit 
upon  his  knee  in  the  presence  of  all  her  maidens,  and  let  him 
smoke  his  cigars  in  the  very  drawing-room. 

This  is  the  epitaph  she  caused  to  be  written  by  Father 
Drono  (who  piqued  himself  upon  his  Latinity)  on  the  stone 
commemorating  the  deatn  of  her  late  lord  : — 

j^ic  tat  6uilfriIrU0,  belli  imri  lurit  aui&«3 
(lum  flluMo  I't  liUKca,  tloriminnia  ft  nuoqiici'raunu 
lllcrlirra  luini  tialuU  :  jut  Aureus  miiUiim  fquitttbaf 
©uilbfrtum  ocfiiiit  :  atquc  iilioroooUjmij  niliit. 
ijeu!  nunc  aiili  foaea  sunt  tanti  militia  asua, 
Ittror  5ltt)clstani  i*6t  conjiir  fastiflsima  ©btiixi. 

And  this  is  the  translation  which  the  doggered  knave  Wamba 
made  of  the  latin  lines  : 

"REQUI1S€AT, 

"  Under  the  stone  you  behold, 
Buried,  and  coffined,  and  cold, 
Lieth  Sir  Wilfrid  thJi  Bold. 

"  Always  he  inarched  i'\  advance, 
Warring  in  Flanderj    md  Franca, 
Doughty  with  sworif  ind  with  lance. 

"  Famous  in  Saracen  fight, 

Rode  in  his  youth  the  good  knightj 
Scattering  Payniras  >n  flight. 


294  REBECCA  AND  ROW  EN  A. 


"  Brian  the  Templar  untrue, 
Fairly  in  tourney  he  slew, 
Saw  Hierusalem  too. 

"  Now  he  is  buried  and  gone, 
Lying  beneath  the  gray  stone  : 
Where  shall  you  find  such  a  one  ? 

"  Long  time  his  widow  deplored, 
Weeping  the  fate  of  her  lord, 
Sadly  cut  off  by  the  sword. 

"  When  she  was  eased  of  her  pain, 
Came  the  good  Lord  Athelstane, 
When  her  ladyship  married  again." 


Athelstane  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  when  he  heard  it,  at  the 
last  line,  but  Rowena  would  have  had  the  fool  whipped,  had 
not  the  Thane  interceded  ;  and  to  him,  she  said,  she  could 
refuse  nothing. 


Chapter  IV, 

IVANHOE   REDIVIVUS. 


I  TRUST  nobody  will  suppose,  from  the  events  described  in 
the  last  chapter,  that  our  friend  Ivanhoe  is  really  dead.  Be- 
cause we  have  given  him  an  epitaph  or  two  and  a  monument, 
are  these  any  reasons  that  he  should  be  really  gone  out  of  the 
world  ?  No  :  as  in  the  pantomime,  when  we  see  Clown  and 
Pantaloon  lay  out  Harlequin  and  cry  over  him,  we  are  always 
sure  that  Master  Harlequin  will  be  up  at  the  next  minute  alert 
and  shining  in  his  glistening  coat ;  and,  after  giving  a  box  on 
the  ears  to  the  pair  of  them,  will  be  taking  a  dance  with  Col- 
umbine, or  leaping  gayly  through  the  clock-face,  or  into  the 
three-pair-of-stairs'  window  :— so  Sir  Wilfrid,  the  Harlequin  of 
our  Christmas  piece,  may  be  run  through  a  little,  or  may  make 
believe  to  be  dead,  but  will  assuredly  rise  up  again  when  he  is 
wanted,  and  show  himself  at  the  right  moment. 

The  suspicious-looking  characters  from  whom  Wamba  ran 
away  were  no  cut-throats  and  plunderers,  as  the  poor  knave 
imagined,  but  no  other  than  Ivanhoe's  friend,  the  hermit,  and 
a  reverend  brother  of  his,  who  visited  the  scene  of  the  late 
battle  in  order  to  see  if  any  Christians  still  survived  there, 
whom  they  might  shrive  and  get  ready  for  heaven,  or  to  whom 


TVANHOE  REDIVIVUS. 


29s 


they  might  possibly  offer  the  benefit  of  their  skill  as  leeches. 
Both  were  prodigiously  learned  in  the  healing  art ;  and  had  about 
them  these  precious  elixirs  which  so  often  occur  in  romances, 
and  with  which  patients  are  so  miraculously  restored.  Ab- 
ruptly dropping  his  master's  head  from  his  lap  as  he  fled,  poor 
Wamba  caused  the  knight's  pate  to  fall  with  rather  a  heavy  thump 
to  the  ground,  and  if  the  knave  had  but  stayed  a  minute  longer, 
he  would  have  heard  Sir  Wilfrid  utter  a  deep  groan.  But 
though  the  fool  heard  him  not,  the  holy  hermits  did  ;  and  to 
recognize  the  gallant  Wilfrid,  to  withdraw  the  enormous  dagger 
still  sticking  out  of  his  back,  to  wash  the  wound  with  a  portion 
of  the  precious  elixir,  and  to  pour  a  little  of  it  down  his  throat, 
was  with  the  excellent  hermits  the  work  of  an  instant :  which 
remedies  being  applied,  one  of  the  good  men  took  the  knight 
by  the  heels  and  the  other  by  the  head,  and  bore  him  daintily 
from  the  castle  to  their  hermitage  in  a  neighboring  rock.  As 
for  the  Count  of  Chains,  and  the  remainder  of  the  slain,  the 
hermits  were  too  much  occupied  with  Ivanhoe's  case  to  mind 
them,  and  did  not,  it  appears,  give  them  any  elixir  :  so  that,  if 
they  are  really  dead,  they  must  stay  on  the  rampart  stark  and 
cold  ;  or  if  otherwise,  when  the  scene  closes  upon  them  as 
it  does  now,  they  may  get  up,  shake  themselves,  go  to  the 
slips  and  drink  a  pot  of  porter,  or  change  their  stage-clothes 
and  go  home  to  supper.  My  dear  readers,  you  may  settle  the 
matter  among  yourselves  as  you  like.  If  you  wish  to  kill  the 
characters  really  off,  let  them  be  dead,  and  have  done  with  them : 
but,  entre  nous,  I  don't  believe  they  are  any  more  dead  than 
you  or  1  are,  and  sometimes  doubt  whether  there  is  a  single 
syllable  of  truth  in  this  whole  story. 

Well,  Ivanhoe  was  taken  to  the  hermits'  cell,  and  there 
doctored  by  the  holy  fathers  for  his  hurts  ;  which  were  of  such 
a  severe  and  dangerous  order,  that  he  was  under  medical  treat- 
ment for  a  very  considerable  time.  When  he  woke  up  from 
his  delirium,  and  asked  how  long  he  had  been  ill,  fancy  his 
astonishment  when  he  heard  that  he  had  been  in  the  fever  for 
six  years !  He  thought  the  reverend  fathers  were  joking  at 
first,  but  their  profession  forbade  them  from  that  sort  of  levity  ; 
and  besides,  he  could  not  possibly  have  got  well  any  sooner, 
because  the  story  would  have  been  sadly  put  out  had  he  ap- 
peared earlier.  And  it  proves  how  good  the  fathers  were  to 
him,  and  how  very  nearly  that  scoundrel  of  a  Roger  de  Back- 
bite's  dagger  had  finished  him,  that  he  did  not  get  well  under 
this  great  length  of  time  ;  during  the  whole  of  which  the  fathers 
tended  him  without  ever  thinking  of  a  fee.     I  know  of  a  kind 


2o6  REBECCA  AND  ROWEIVA. 

physician  in  this  town  who  does  as  much  sometimes ;  but  1 
won't  do  him  the  ill  service  of  mentioning  his  name  here. 

Ivanhoe,  being  now  quickly  pronounced  well,  trimmed  his 
beard,  which  by  this  time  hung  down  considerably  below  his 
knees,  and  calling  for  his  suit  of  chain-armor,  which  before  had 
fitted  his  elegant  person  as  tight  as  wax,  now  put  it  on,  and  it 
bagged  and  hung  so  loosely  about  him,  that  even  the  good 
friars  laughed  at  his  absurd  appearance.  It  was  impossible 
that  he  should  go  about  the  country  in  such  a  garb  as  that : 
the  very  boys  would  laugh  at  him  :  so  the  friars  gave  him  one 
of  their  old  gowns,  in  which  he  disguised  himself,  and  after 
taking  an  affectionate  farewell  of  his  friends,  set  forth  on  his 
return  to  his  native  country.  As  he  went  along,  he  learned 
that  Richard  was  dead,  that  John  reigned,  that  Prince  Arthur 
had  been  poisoned,  and  was  of  course  made  acquainted  with 
various  other  facts  of  public  importance  recorded  in  Pinnock's 
Catechism  and  the  Historic  Page. 

But  these  subjects  did  not  interest  him  near  so  much  as  his 
own  private  affairs  ;  and  I  can  fancy  that  his  legs  trembled 
under  him,  and  his  pilgrim's  staff  shook  with  emotion,  as  at 
length,  after  many  perils,  he  came  in  sight  of  his  paternal 
mansion  of  Rotherwood,  and  saw  once  more  the  chimneys 
smoking,  the  shadows  of  the  oaks  over  the  grass  in  the  sunset, 
and  the  rooks  winging  over  the.  trees.  He  heard  the  supper 
gong  sounding  :  he  knew  his  way  to  the  door  well  enough  ;  he 
entered  the  familiar  hall  with  a  benedicite,  and  without  any  more 

words  took  his  place. 

***** 

You  might  have  thought  for  a  moment  that  the  gray  friar 
trembled  and  his  shrunken  cheek  looked  deadly  pale  ;  but  he 
recovered  himself  presently  :  nor  could  you  see  his  pallor  for 
the  cowl  which  covered  his  face. 

A  little  boy  was  playing  on  Athelstane's  knee  ;  Rowena, 
smiling  and  patting  the  Saxon  Thane  fondly  on  his  broad  bull- 
head, filled  him  a  huge  cup  of  spiced  wine  from  a  golden  jug. 
He  drained  a  quart  of  the  liquor,  and,  turning  round,  addressed 
the  friar  : — 

"  And  so,  gray  frere,  thou  sawest  good  King  Richard  fall  at 
Chains  by  the  bolt  of  that  felon  bowman  ?  " 

"  We  did,  an  it  please  you.  The  brothers  of  our  house 
attended  the  good  King  in  his  last  moments  :  in  truth,  he  made 
a  Christian  ending  !  " 

"  And  didst  thou  see  the  archer  flayed  alive  ?  It  must  have 
been  rare  sport,"  roared  Athelstane,  laughing  hugely  at  the 
joke.     "  How  the  fellow  must  have  howled  !  " 


AIIUlJpJ 


^"■^ 

J    r- 


IVAXHOE    IX    THE    HALL   OF    HIS    FATHERS. 


IVANHOE  REDIVIVUS. 


!97 


"  My  love  !  "  said  Rowena,  interposing  tenderly,  and  putting 
a  pretty  white  finger  on  his  lip. 

"  I  would  have  liked  to  see  it  too,"  cried  the  boy. 

"  That's  my  own  little  Cedric,  and  so  thou  shalt.  And, 
triar,  didst  see  my  poor  kinsman  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  ? 
They  say  he  fought  well  at  Chains  !  " 

"  My  sweet  lord,"  again  interposed  Rowena,  "  mention  him 
not." 

"  Why  ?  Because  thou  and  he  were  so  tender  in  days  of 
yore — when  you  could  not  bear  my  plain  face,  being  all  in  love 
with  his  pale  one  1  " 

"  Those  times  are  past  now,  dear  Athelstane,"  said  his 
affectionate  wife,  looking  up  to  the  ceiling. 

"  Marry,  thou  never  could'st  forgive  him  the  Jewess, 
Rowena." 

"  The  odious  hussy  !  don't  mention  the  name  of  the  unbe- 
lieving creature,"  exclaimed  the  lady. 

"  Well,  well,  poor  Wil  was  a  good  lad — a  thought  melan- 
choly and  milksop  though.  Why,  a  pint  of  sack  fuddled  his 
poor  brains." 

"  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  was  a  good  lance,"  said  the  friar. 
"  I  have  heard  there  was  non«  better  in  Christendom.  He  lay 
in  our  convent  after  his  wounds,  and  it  was  there  we  tended 
him  till  he  died.     He  was  buried  in  our  north  cloister." 

"  And  there's  an  end  of  him,"  said  Athelstane.  "  But  come, 
this  is  dismal  talk.  Where's  Wamba  the  Jester  ?  Let  us  have 
a  song.  Stir  up,  Wamba,  and  don't  lie  like  a  dog  in  the  fire  ! 
Sing  us  a  song,  thou  crack-brained  jester,  and  leave  off  whim- 
pering for  by-gones.  Tush,  man  !  There  be  many  good  fellows 
left  in  this  world." 

"  There  be  buzzards  in  eagles'  nests,"  Wamba  said,  who 
was  lying  stretched  before  the  fire,  sharing  the  hearth  with  the 
Thane's  dogs.  "  There  be  dead  men  alive,  and  live  men  dead. 
There  be  merry  songs  and  dismal  songs.  Marry,  and  the 
merriest  are  the  saddest  sometimes.  I  will  leave  off  motley 
and  wear  black,  gossip  Athelstane.  I  will  turn  howler  at 
funerals,  and  then,  perhaps,  I  shall  be  merry.  Motley  is  fit  for 
mutes,  and  black  for  fools.  Give  me  some  drink,  gossip,  for 
my  voice  is  as  cracked  as  my  brain." 

"  Drink  and  sing,  thou  beast,  and  cease  prating,"  the  Thane 
said. 

And  Wamba,  touching  his  rebeck  wildly,  sat  up  in  the 
chimney-side  and  curled  his  lean  shanks  together  and  began  :—' 


298  REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 

•'LOVE  AT  TWO  SCORE. 

*  Ho  !  pretty  page,  with  dimpled  chin, 

Tluit  never  has  known  the  barber's  shear. 
All  your  aim  is  woman  to  win — 
This  is  the  way  that  boys  begin — 

Wait  till  you've  come  to  forty  year? 

"  Curly  gold  locks  cover  foolish  brains, 
Billing  and  cooing  is  all  your  cheer, 
Sighing  and  singing  of  midnight  strains 
Under  Bonnybeils'  window-panes. 
Wait  till  you've  come  to  forty  yearl 

"  Forty  times  over  let  Michaelmas  pass, 

Grizzling  hair  the  brain  doth  clear  ; 
Then  you  know  a  boy  is  an  ass, 
Then  you  know  the  worth  of  a  lass 

Once  you  have  come  to  forty  year. 

"  Pledge  me  round,  I  bid  ye  declare. 

All  good  fellows  whose  beards  are  gray: 
Did  not  the  fairest  of  the  fair 
Common  grown,  and  wearisome,  ere 
Ever  a  month  was  passed  away  ? 

"  The  reddest  lips  that  ever  have  kissed. 

The  brightest  eyes  that  ever  have  shone, 
May  pray  and  whisper  and  we  not  list, 
Or  look  away  and  never  be  missed, 

Ere  yet  ever  a  month  was  gone. 

"  Gillian's  dead,  Heaven  rest  her  bier. 
How  I  loved  her  twenty  years  syne? 
Marian's  married,  but  I  sit  here, 
Alive  and  merry  at  forty  year. 

Dipping  my  nose  in  my  Gascon  wine." 

"Who  taught  thee  that  merry  lay,  Wamba,  thou  son  of  Wit- 
less ?  "  roared  Athelstane,  clattering  his  cup  on  the  table  and 
shouting  the  chorus. 

"  It  was  a  good  and  holy  hermit,  sir,  the  pious  clerk  of 
Copmanhurst,  that  you  wot  of,  who  played  many  a  prank  with 
us  in  the  days  that  we  knew  King  Richard.  Ah,  noble  sir, 
that  was  a  jovial  time  and  a  good  priest." 

"  They  say  the  holy  priest  is  sure  of  the  next  bishopric, 
my  love,"  said  Rowena.  "  His  Majesty  hath  taken  him  into 
much  favor.  My  Lord  of  Huntingdon  looked  very  well  at  the 
last  ball ;  but  I  never  could  see  any  beauty  in  the  Countess — a 
freckled,  blowsy  thing,  whom  they  used  to  call  Maid  Marian : 
though,  for  the  matter  of  that,  what  between  her  flirtations 
with  Major  Littlejohn  and  Captain  Scarlett,  really " 

"  Jealous  again — haw  !  haw  !  "  laughed  Athelstane. 

"  I  am  above  jealousy,  and  scorn  it,"  Rowena  answered, 
drawing  herself  up  very  majestically. 

"Well,  well,  Wamba's  was  a  good  song,"  Athelstane  said. 

"Nay,  a  wicked  song,"  said  Rowena,  turning  up  her  eyes 


IVAMHOE  REDIVIVUS.  299 

as  usual.  "  What !  rail  at  woman's  love  ?  Prefer  a  filthy  wine' 
Cup  to  a  true  wife  ?  Woman's  love  is  eternal,  my  Athelstane. 
He  who  questions  it  would  be  a  blasphemer  were  he  not  a  fool. 
The  well-born  and  well-nurtured  gentlewoman  loves  once  and 
only." 

"  I  pray  you,  madam,  pardon  me,  I — I  am  not  well,"  said 
the  gray  friar,  rising  abruptly  from  his  settle,  and  tottering 
down  the  steps  of  the  dais.  Wamba  sprung  after  him,  his 
bells  jingling  as  he  rose,  and  casting  his  arms  round  the  appar- 
ently fainting  man,  he  led  him  away  into  the  court.  "  There 
be  dead  men  alive  and  live  men  dead,"  whispered  he.  "There 
be  cofifins  to  laugh  at  and  marriages  to  cry  over.  Said  I  not 
sooth,  holy  friar  ?  "  And  when  they  had  got  out  into  the 
solitary  court,  which  was  deserted  by  all  the  followers  of  the 
Thane,  who  were  mingling  in  the  drunken  revelry  in  the  hall, 
Wamba,  seeing  that  none  were  by,  knelt  down,  and  kissing  the 
friar's  garment,  said,  "  I  knew  thee,  I  knew  thee,  my  lord  and 
my  liege  ! " 

"  Get  up,"  said  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  scarcely  able  to  articu- 
late :  "  only  fools  are  faithful." 

And  he  passed  on,  and  into  the  little  chapel  where  his 
father  lay  buried.  All  night  long  the  friar  spent  there  :  and 
Wamba  the  Jester  lay  outside  watching  as  mute  as  the  saint 
over  the  porch. 

When  the  morning  came,  Wamba  was  gone;  and  the  knave 
being  in  the  habit  of  wandering  hither  and  thither  as  he  chose,  lit- 
tle notice  was  taken  of  his  absence  by  a  master  and  mistress  who 
had  not  much  sense  of  humor.  As  for  Sir  Wilfrid,  a  gentleman 
of  his  delicacy  of  feelings  could  not  be  expected  to  remain  in  a 
house  where  things  so  naturally  disagreeable  to  him  were  oc- 
curring, and  he  quitted  Rotherwood  incontinently,  after  paying 
a  dutiful  visit  to  the  tomb  where  his  old  father,  Cedric,  was 
buried  ;  and  hastened  on  to  York,  at  which  city  he  made  him- 
self known  to  the  family  attorney,  a  most  respectable  man,  in 
whose  hands  his  ready  money  was  deposited,  and  took  up  a 
sum  sufficient  to  fit  himself  out  with  credit,  and  a  handsome 
retinue,  as  became  a  knight  of  consideration.  But  he  changed 
his  name,  wore  a  wig  and  spectacles,  and  disguised  himself 
entirely,  so  that  it  was  impossible  his  friends  or  the  public 
should  know  him,  and  thus  metamorphosed,  went  about  whither- 
soever his  fancy  led  him.  He  was  present  at  a  public  ball 
at  York,  which  the  lord  mayor  gave,  danced  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley  in  the  very  same  set  with   Rowena — (who  was  dis* 


300 


REBECCA  AND  ROWEIVA. 


gusted  that  Maid  Marian  took  precedence  of  her) — he  saw  lit* 
tie  Athelstane  overeat  himself  at  the  supper  and  pledge  his  big 
father  in  a  cup  of  sack  ;  he  met  the  Reverend  Mr.  Tuck  at  a 
missionary  meeting,  where  he  seconded  a  resolution  proposed 
by  that  eminent  divine  ; — in  fine,  he  saw  a  score  of  his  old  ac- 
quaintances, none  of  whom  recognized  in  him  the  warrior  of 
Palestine  and  Templestowe.  Having  a  large  fortune  and 
nothing  to  do,  he  went  about  this  country  performing  charities, 
slaying  robbers,  rescuing  the  distressed,  and  achieving  nobltf 
feats  of  arms.  Dragons  and  giants  existed  in  his  day  no  more, 
or  be  sure  he  would  have  had  a  fling  at  them  :  for  the  truth  is, 
Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  was  somewhat  sick  of  the  life  which  the 
hermits  of  Chains  had  restored  to  him,  and  felt  himself  so 
friendless  and  solitary  that  he  would  not  have  been  sorry  to 
come  to  an  end  of  it.  Ah,  my  clear  friends  and  intelligent 
British  public,  are  there  not  others  who  are  melancholy  under 
a  mask  of  gayety,  and  who,  in  the  midst  of  crowds,  are  lonely  ? 
Liston  was  a  most  melancholy  man  ;  Grimaldi  had  feelings  \ 
and  there  are  others  I  wot  of : — but  psha ! — let  us  have  the 
next  chapter. 


Chapter  V. 

IVANHOE   TO   THE    RESCUE. 


The  rascally  manner  in  which  the  chicken-livered  successor 
of  Richard  of  the  Lion-heart  conducted  himself  to  all  parties, 
to  his  relatives,  his  nobles,  and  his  people,  is  a  matter  notori- 
ous, and  set  forth  clearly  in  the  Historic  Page  :  hence,  although 
nothing,  except  perhaps  success,  can,  in  my  opinion,  excuse 
disaffection  to  the  sovereign,  or  appearance  in  armed  rebellion 
against  him,  the  loyal  reader  will  make  allowance  for  two  of 
the  principal  personages  of  this  narrative,  who  will  have  to 
appear  in  the  present  chapter  in  the  odious  character  of  rebels 
to  their  lord  and  king.  It  must  be  remembered,  in  partial 
exculpation  of  the  fault  of  Athelstane  and  Rowena,  (a  fault  for 
which  they  were  well  punished,  as  you  shall  presently  hear,) 
that  the  monarch  exasperated  his  subjects  in  a  variety  of  ways, 
— that  before  he  murdered  his  royal  nephew.  Prince  Arthur, 
there  was  a  great  question  whether  he  was  the  rightful  King  of 


n^ANHOE  TO  THE  RESCUE.  301 

England  at  all, — that  his  behavior  as  an  uncle,  and  a  family 
man,  was  likely  to  wound  the  feelings  of  any  lady  and  mother, 
— finally,  that  there  were  palliations  for  the  conduct  of  Rowena 
and  Ivanhoe,  which  it  now  becomes  our  duty  to  relate. 

When  his  Majesty  destroyed  Prince  Arthur,  the  Lady 
Rowena,  who  was  one  of  the  ladies  of  honor  to  the  Queen, 
gave  up  her  place  at  court  at  once,  and  retired  to  her  Castle 
of  Rotherwood,  Expressions  made  use  of  by  her,  and  derog- 
atory to  the  character  of  the  sovereign,  were  carried  to  the 
monarch's  ears,  by  some  of  those  parasites,  doubtless,  by  whom 
it  is  the  curse  of  kings  to  be  attended  ;  and  John  swore,  by 
St.  Peter's  teeth,  that  he  would  be  revenged  upon  the  haughty 
Saxon  lady, — a  kind  of  oath  which,  though  he  did  not  trouble 
himself  about  all  other  oaths,  he  was  never  known  to  break. 
It  was  not  for  some  years  after  he  had  registered  this  vow,  that 
he  was  enabled  to  keep  it. 

Had  Ivanhoe  been  present  at  Rouen  when  the  King  medi- 
tated his  horrid  designs  against  his  nephew,  there  is  little  doubt 
that  Sir  Wilfred  would  have  prevented  them,  and  rescued  the 
boy  :  for  Ivanhoe  was,  we  need  scarcely  say,  a  hero  of  romance  ; 
and  it  is  the  custom  and  duty  of  all  gentlemen  of  that  profes- 
sion to  be  present  on  all  occasions  of  historic  interest,  to  be 
engaged  in  all  conspiracies,  royal  interviews,  and  remarkable 
occurrences  :  and  hence  Sir  Wilfred  would  certainly  have  res- 
cued the  young  Prince,  had  he  been  anywhere  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Rouen,  where  the  foul  tragedy  occurred.  But  he  was 
a  couple  of  hundred  leagues  off,  at  Chalus,  when  the  circum- 
stance happened  ;  tied  down  in  his  bed  as  crazy  as  a  Bedlamite, 
and  raving  ceaselessly  in  the  Hebrew  tongue  (which  be  had 
caught  up  in  a  previous  illness  in  which  he  was  tended  by  a 
maiden  of  that  nation)  about  a  certain  Rebecca  Ben  Isaacs, 
of  whom,  being  a  married  man,  he  never  would  have  thought, 
had  he  been  in  his  sound  senses.  During  this  delirium,  what 
were  politics  to  him,  or  he  to  politics  ?  King  John  or  King 
Arthur  were  entirely  indifferent  to  a  man  who  announced  to  his 
nurse-tenders,  the  good  hermits  of  Chalus  before  mentioned, 
that  he  was  the  Marquis  of  Jericho,  and  about  to  marry  Re- 
becca the  Queen  of  Sheba.  In  a  word,  he  only  heard  of  what 
had  occurred  when  he  reached  England,  and  his  senses  were 
restored  to  him.  Whether  was  he  happier,  sound  of  brain 
and  entirely  miserable,  (as  any  man  would  be  who  found  so 
admirable  a  wife  as  Rowena  married  again,)  or  perfectly  crazy, 
the  husband  of  the  beautiful  Rebecca  ?  I  don't  know  which  he 
liked  best. 

20 


302  REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 

Howbeit  the  conduct  of  King  John  inspired  Sir  Wilfrid 
with  so  thorough  a  detestation  of  that  sovereign,  that  he  never 
could  be  brought  to  take  service  under  him  ;  to  get  himself  pre- 
sented at  St.  James's,  or  in  any  way  to  acknowledge,  but  by 
stern  acquiescence,  the  authority  of  the  sanguinary  successor 
of  his  beloved  King  Richard.  It  was  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivan  hoe,  I 
need  scarcely  say,  who  got  the  Barons  of  England  to  league 
together  and  extort  from  the  king  that  famous  instrument  and 
palladium  of  our  liberties  at  present  in  the  British  Museum, 
Great  Russell  Street,  Bloomsbury — the  Magna  Charta.  His 
name  does  not  naturally  appear  in  the  list  of  Barons,  because 
he  was  only  a  knight,  and  a  knight  in  disguise  too  ;  nor  does 
Athelstane's  signature  figure  on  that  document.  Athelstane, 
in  the  first  place,  could  not  write  ;  nor  did  he  care  a  penny- 
piece  about  politics,  so  long  as  he  could  drink  his  wine  _  at 
home  undisturbed,  and  have  his  hunting  and  shooting  in  quiet. 

It  was  not  until  the  King  wanted  to  interfere  with  the  sport 
of  every  gentleman  in  England  (as  we  know  by  reference  to 
the  Historic  Page  that  this  odious  monarch  did),  that  Athel- 
stane broke  out  into  open  rebellion,  along  with  several  York- 
shire squires  and  noblemen.  It  is  recorded  of  the  King,  that 
he  forbade  every  man  to  hunt  his  own  deer  ;  and,  in  order  to 
secure  an  obedience  to  his  orders,  this  Herod  of  a  monarch 
wanted  to  secure  the  eldest  sons  of  all  the  nobility  and  gentry, 
as  hostages  for  the  good  behavior  of  their  parents. 

Athelstane  was  anxious  about  his  game — Rowena  was  anx- 
ious about  her  son.  The  former  swore  that  he  would  hunt  his 
deer  in  spite  of  all  Norman  tyrants — the  latter  asked,  should 
she  give  up  her  boy  to  the  ruffian  who  had  murdered  his  own 
nephew  ?  *  The  speeches  of  both  were  brought  to  the  King  at 
York  ;  and,  furious,  he  ordered  an  instant  attack  upon  Rother- 
wood,  and  that  the  lord  and  lady  of  that  castle  should  be 
brought  before  him  dead  or  alive. 

Ah,  where  was  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  the  unconquerable 
champion,  to  defend  the  castle  against  the  royal  party  ?  A  few 
thrusts  from  his  lance  would  have  spitted  the  leading  warriors 
of  the  King's  host  :  a  few  cuts  from  his  sword  would  have  put 
John's  forces  to  rout.  But  the  lance  and  sword  of  Ivanhoe  were 
idle  on  this  occasion.  "  No,  be  hanged  to  me  !  "  said  the 
knight,  bitterly,  "  ihis  is  a  quarrel  in  which  I  can't  interfere. 
Common  politeness  forbids.  Let  yonder  ale-swilling  Athelstane 
defend  his— ha,  \\?i—wifc ;  and  my  Lady  Rowena  guard  her^ 
ha,  ha,  ha— j-w/."     And  he  laughed  wildly  and  madly ;  and  the 

*  See  Hume,  Giraldus  Cainbrensis,  The  Monk  of  Croyland,  and  Pinnock's  Catechism. 


IVANHOE  TO  THE  RESCUE. 


ZOZ 


sarcastic  way  in  which  he  choked  and  gurgled  oqt  the  words 
"wife  "  and  "  son  "  would  have  made  you  shudder  to  hear. 

When  he  heard,  however,  that,  on  the  fourth  day  of  the 
siege,  Athelstane  had  been  slain  by  a  cannon-ball,  (and  this 
time  for  good,  and  not  to  come  to  life  again  as  he  had  done 
before,)  and  that  the  widow  (if  so  the  innocent  bigamist  may 
be  called)  was  conducting  the  defence  of  Rotherwood  herself 
with  the  greatest  intrepidity,  showing  herself  upon  the  walls 
with  her  little  son,  (who  bellowed  like  a  bull,  and  did  not  like 
the  fighting  at  all,)  pointing  the  guns  and  encouraging  the  gar- 
rison in  every  way — better  feelings  returned  to  the  bosom  of 
the  Knight  of  Ivanhoe,  and  summoning  his  men,  he  armed 
himself  quickly,  and  determined  to  go  forth  to  the  rescue. 

He  rode  without  stopping  for  two  days  and  two  nights  in  the 
direction  of  Rotherwood,  with  such  swiftness  and  disregard  for 
refreshment,  indeed,  that  his  men  dropped  one  by  one  upon  the 
road,  and  he  arrived  alone  at  the  lodge-gate  of  the  park.  The 
windows  were  smashed  ;  the  door  stove  in  ;  the  lodge,  a  neat  little 
Swiss  cottage,  with  a  garden  where  the  pinafores  of  Mrs.  Gurth's 
children  might  have  been  seen  hanging  on  the  gooseberry-bushes 
in  more  peaceful  times,  was  now  a  ghastly  heap  of  smoking 
ruins  :  cottage,  bushes,  pinafores,  children  lay  mangled  to- 
gether, destroyed  by  the  licentious  soldiery  of  an  infuriate 
monarch  !  Far  be  it  from  me  to  excuse  the  disobedience  of 
Athelstane  and  Rowena  to  their  sovereign  ;  but  surely,  surely 
this  cruelty  might  have  been  spared. 

Gurth,  who  was  lodge-keeper,  was  lying  dreadfully  wounded 
and  expiring  at  the  flaming  and  violated  threshold  of  his  lately 
picturesque  home.  A  catapult  and  a  couple  of  mangonels  had 
done  his  business.  The  faithful  fellow,  recognizing  his  master, 
who  had  put  up  his  vizor  and  forgotten  his  wig  and  spectacles 
in  the  agitation  of  the  moment,  exclaimed,  "  Sir  Wilfrid !  my 
dear  master — praised  be  St.  Waltheof — there  may  be  yet  time 
• — my  beloved  mistr — master  Atheist  *  *  *"  He  sank  back, 
and  never  spoke  again. 

Ivanhoe  spurred  on  his  horse  Bavieca  madly  up  the  chestnut 
avenue.  The  castle  was  before  him  ;  the  western  tower  was 
in  flames ;  the  besiegers  were  pressing  at  the  southern  gate  \ 
Athelstane's  banner,  the  bull  rampant,  was  still  on  the  northern 
bartizan.  "An  Ivanhoe,  an  Ivanhoe  !  "  he  bellowed  out,  with 
a  shout  that  overcame  all  the  din  of  battle  :  "  Nostre  Dame  a 
la  rescousse  I  "  And  to  hurl  his  lance  through  the  midriff  of 
Reginald  de  Eracy,  who  was  commanding  the  assault — who  fell 
howling;  with  anguish — to  wave  his  battle-axe  over  his  own 


304  REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 

head,  and  cut  off  those  of  thirteen  men-at-arms,  was  the  work 
of  an  instant.  "  An  Ivanhoe,  an  Ivanhoe  !  "  he  still  shouted, 
and  down  went  a  man  as  sure  as  he  said  '  hoe  !  '  " 

"  Ivanhoe  !  Ivanhoe  !  "  a  shrill  voice  cried  from  the  top  of 
the  northern  bartizan.     Ivanhoe  knew  it. 

"  Rowena  my  love,  I  come  !  "  he  roared  on  his  part.  "  Vil- 
lains !  touch  but  a  hair  of  her  head,  and  I     *     *     *     *  " 

Here,  with  a  sudden  plunge  and  a  squeal  of  agony,  Bavieca 
sprang  forward  wildly,  and  fell  as  wildly  on  her  back,  rolling 
over  and  over  upon  the  knight.  All  was  dark  before  him  ;  his 
brain  reeled  ;  it  whizzed  ;  something  came  crashing  down  on 
his  forehead.  St.  Waltheof  and  all  the  saints  of  the  Saxon 
calendar  protect  the  knight  i     *     *     * 

When  he  came  to  himself,  Wamba  and  the  lieutenant  of  his' 
lanceswere  leaning  over  him  with  a  bottle  of  the  hermit's  elixir. 
"We  arrived  here  the  day  after  the  battle,  said  the  fool  j 
"marry,  I  have  a  knack  of  that." 

"  Your  worship  rode  so  deucedly  quick,  there  was  no  keep- 
ing up  with  your  worship,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

"The  day — after — the  bat — "  groaned  Ivanhoe.  "Where 
is  the  Lady  Rowena  t  " 

_  "The  castle  has  been  taken  and  sacked,"  the  lieutenant 
said,  and  pointed  to  what  once  was  Rotherwood,  but  was  now 
only  a  heap  of  smoking  ruins.  Not  a  tower  was  left,  not  a 
roof,  not  a  floor,  not  a  single  human  being !  Everything  was 
flame  and  ruin,  smash  and  murther! 

Of  course  Ivanhoe  fell  back  fainting  again  among  the  ninety- 
seven  men  at  arms  whom  he  had  slain  ;  and  it  was  not  until 
Wamba  had  applied  a  second,  and  uncommonly  strong  dose  of 
the  elixir  that  he  came  to  life  again.  The  good  knight  was, 
however,  from  long  practice,  so  accustomed  to  the  severest 
wounds,  that  he  bore  them  far  more  easily  than  common  folk, 
and  thus  was  enabled  to  reach  York  upon  a  litter,  which  his 
men  constructed  for  him,  with  tolerable  ease. 

Rumor  had  as  usual  advanced  before  him  ;  and  he  heard  at 
the  hotel  where  he  stopped,  what  had  been  the  issue  of  the 
affair  at  Rotherwood.  A  minute  or  two  after  his  horse  was 
stabbed,  and  Ivanhoe  knocked  down,  the  western  bartizan  was 
taken  by  the  storming-party  which  invested  it,  and  every  soul 
slain,  except  Rowena  and  her  boy  ;  who  were  tied  upon  horses 
and  carried  away,  under  a  secure  guard,  to  one  of  the  King's 
castles — nobody  knew  whither  :  and  Ivanhoe  was  recommended 
by  the  hotel-keeper  (whose  house  he  had  used  in  former  times) 
to  reassume  his  wig  and  spectacles,  and  not  call  himself  by  his 


IVANIIOE  TO  THE  RESCUE. 


30s 


own  name  any  more,  lest  some  of  the  King's  people  should  lay 
hands  on  him.  However,  as  he  had  killed  everybody  round 
about  him,  there  was  but  little  danger  of  his  discovery ;  and  the 
Knight  of  the  Spectacles,  as  he  was  called,  went  about  York 
quite  unmolested,  and  at  liberty  to  attend  to  his  own  affairs. 

We  wish  to  be  brief  in  narrating  this  part  of  the  gallant 
hero's  existence;  for  his  life  was  one  of  feeling  rather  than 
affection,  and  the  description  of  mere  sentiment  is  considered 
by  many  well-informed  persons  to  be  tedious.  What  were  his 
sentiments  now,  it  maybe  asked,  under  the  peculiar  position  in 
which  he  found  himself .?  He  had  done  his  duty  by  Rowena, 
certainly  :  no  man  could  say  otherwise.  But  as  for  being  in 
love  with  her  any  more,  after  what  had  occurred,  that  was  a 
different  question.  Well,  come  what  would,  he  was  determined 
still  to  continue  doing  his  duty  by  her ; — but  as  she  was  whisk- 
ed away  the  deuce  knew  whither,  how  could  he  do  anything  ?  So 
he  resigned  himself  to  the  fact  that  she  was  thus  whisked  away. 

He,  of  course,  sent  emissaries  about  the  country  to  endeav- 
or to  find  out  where  Rowena  was :  but  these  came  back  with- 
out any  sort  of  intelligence  ;  and  it  was  remarked,  that  he  still 
remained  in  a  perfect  state  of  resignation.  He  remained  in  this 
condition  for  a  year,  or  more  ;  and  it  was  said  that  he  was 
becoming  more  cheerful,  and  he  certainly  was  growing  rather 
fat.  The  Knight  of  the  Spectacles  was  voted  an  agreeable  man 
in  a  grave  way ;  and  gave  some  very  elegant,  though  quiet, 
parties,  and  was  received  in  the  best  society  of  York. 

It  was  just  at  assize-time,  the  lawyers  and  barristers  had 
arrived,  and  the  town  was  unusually  gay  ;  when,  one  morning, 
the  attorney,  whom  we  have  mentioned  as  Sir  Wilfrid's  man  of 
business,  and  a  most  respectable  man,  called  upon  his  gallant 
client  at  his  lodgings,  and  said  he  had  a  communication  of 
importance  to  make.  Having  to  communicate  with  a  client  of 
rank,  who  was  condemned  to  be  hanged  for  forgery,  Sir  Roger 
de  Backbite,  the  attorney  said,  he  had  been  to  visit  that  party 
in  the  condemned  cell  ;  and  on  the  way  through  the  yard,  and 
through  the  bars  of  another  cell,  had  seen  and  recognized  an 
old  acquaintance  of  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe — and  the  lawyer 
held  him  out,  with  a  particular  look,  a  note,  written  on  a  piece 
of  whitey-brown  paper. 

What  were  Ivanhoe's  sensations  when  he  recognized  the 
handwriting  of  Rowena  !  —  he  trembingly  dashed  open  the 
billet,  and  read  as  follows  : — 

*'  My  dearest  Ivanhoe, — For  I  am  thine  now  as  erst,  and 


3o6  REBECCA  AND  R  OWEN  A. 

my  first  love  was  ever — ever  dear  to  me.  Have  I  been  neat 
thee  dying  for  a  whole  year,  and  didst  thou  make  no  effort  to 
rescue  thy  Rowena  ?  Have  ye  given  to  others — I  mention  not 
their  name  nor  their  odious  creed — the  heart  that  ought  to  be 
mine  ?  I  send  thee  my  forgiveness  from  my  dying  pallet  of 
•straw. — I  forgive  thee  the  insults  I  have  received,  the  cold  and 
hunger  I  have  endured,  the  failing  health  of  my  boy,  the  bitter- 
ness of  my  prison,  thy  infatuation  about  that  Jewess,  which 
made  our  married  life  miserable,  and  which  caused  thee,  I  am 
sure,  to  go  abroad  to  look  after  hen  I  forgive  thee  all  my 
wrongs,  and  fain  would  bid  thee  farewell.  Mr.  Smith  hath 
gained  over  my  jailer — he  will  tell  thee  how  I  may  see  thee. 
Come  and  console  my  last  hour  by  promising  that  thou  wilt 
care  for  my  boy — Ids  boy  who  fell  like  a  hero  (when  thou  wert 
absent)  combating  by  the  side  of 

"  Rowena." 

Tlie  reader  may  consult  his  own  feelings,  and  say  whether 
Ivanhoe  was  likely  to  be  pleased  or  not  by  this  letter ;  however, 
he  inquired  of  Mr,  Smith,  the  solicitor,  what  was  the  plan  which 
that  gentleman  had  devised  for  the  introduction  to  Lady  Rowena, 
and  was  informed  that  he  was  to  get  a  barrister's  gown  and  wig, 
when  the  jailer  would  introduce  him  into  the  interior  of  the 
prison.  These  decorations,  knowmg  several  gentlemen  of  the 
Northern  Circuit,  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  easily  procured,  and 
with  feelings  of  no  small  trepidation,  reached  the  cell,  where, 
for  the  space  of  a  year,  poor  Rowena  had  been  immured. 

If  any  person  have  a  doubt  of  the  correctness,  of  the 
historical  exactness  of  this  narrative,  I  refer  him  to  the  "Biog- 
raphic Universelle  "  (article  Jean  sans  Terre),  which  says,  "  La 
femme  d'un  baron  auquel  on  vint  demander  son  fils,  repondit, 
'  Le  roi  pense  t-il  que  je  confierai  mon  fils  a  un  homme  qui  a 
egorge  son  neveu  de  sa  propre  main  ? '  Jean  fit  enlever  la 
mere  et  I'enfant,  et  la  \2i\ssa.  }7iourir  defaim  dans  les  cachets." 

I  picture  to  myself,  with  a  painful  sympath}',  Rowena  under- 
going this  disagreeable  sentence.  All  her  virtues,  her  resolu- 
tion, her  chaste  energy  and  perseverance,  shine  with  redoubled 
lustre,  and,  for  the  first  time  since  the  commencement  of  the 
history,  I  feel  that  I  am  partially  reconciled  to  her.  The  weary 
year  passes — she  grows  weaker  and  more  languid,  thinner  and 
thinner!  At  length  Ivanhoe,  in  the  disguise  of  a  barrister  of 
the  Northern  Circuit,  is  introduced  to  her  cell,  and  finds  his 
lady  in  the  last  stage  of  exhaustion,  on  the  straw  of  her  dun- 
geon, with  her  little  boy  in  her  arms.     She   has  preserved  his 


IVANHOE  THE  WIDOWER.  307 

/ife  at  the  expense  of  her  own,  giving  him  the  whole  of  the 
pittance  which  her  jailers  allowed  her,  and  perishing  herself  of 
inanition. 

There  is  a  scene  !  I  feel  as  if  I  had  made  it  up,  as  it  were, 
with  this  lady,  and  that  we  part  in  peace,  in  consequence  of  my 
providing  her  with  so  sublime  a  death-bed.  Fancy  Ivanhoe's 
entrance — their  recognition — the  faint  blush  upon  her  worn 
features — the  pathetic  way  in  which  she  gives  little  Cedric  in 
charge  to  him,  and  his  promises  of  protection. 

"Wilfrid,  my  early  loved,"  slowly  gasped  she,  removing  her 
gray  hair  from  her  furrowed  temples,  and  gazing  on  her  boy 
fondly,  as  he  nestled  on  Ivanhoe's  knee — "  promise  me,  by  St. 
Waltheof  of  Templestowe — promise  me  one  boon  ! " 

"  I  do,"  said  Ivanhoe,  clasping  the  boy,  and  thinking  it  was 
to  that  little  innocent  the  promise  was  intended  to  apply. 

"  By  St.  Waltheof  ?  " 

"  By  St.  Waltheof !  " 

*'  Promise  me,  then,"  gasped  Rowena,  staring  wildly  at  him, 
"that  you  never  will  marry  a  Jewess  ?  " 

"  By  St.  Waltheof,"  cried  Ivanhoe,  "  this  is  too  much,  Ro- 
wena  !  " — But  he  felt  his  hand  grasped  for  a  moment,  the  nerves 
then  relaxed,  the  pale  lip  ceased  to  quiver — she  was  no  more  ! 


Chapter  VI. 

IVANHOE   THE   WIDOWER. 


Having  placed  young  Cedric  at  school  at  the  Hall  of 
Dotheboyes,  in  Yorkshire,  and  arranged  his  family  affairs,  Sir 
Wilfred  of  Ivanhoe  quitted  a  country  which  had  no  longer  any 
charms  for  him,  and  in  which  his  stay  was  rendered  the  less 
agreeable  by  the  notion  that  King  John  would  hang  him,  if  ever 
he  could  lay  hands  on  the  faithful  follower  of  King  Richard 
and  Prince  Arthur. 

But  there  was  always  in  those  days  a  home  and  occupation 
for  a  brave  and  pious  knight.  A  saddle  on  a  gallant  war-horse, 
a  pitched  field  against  the  Moors,  a  lance  wherewith  to  spit  a 
turbaned  infidel,  or  a  road  to  Paradise  carved  out  by  his  scimitar 
— these  were  the  height  of  the  ambition  of  good  and  religious 
warriors ;  and  so  renowned  a  champion  as  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivan- 


3o8  REBECCA  AxVD  ROWENA. 

hoe  was  sure  to  be  well  received  wherever  blows  were  stricken 
for  the  cause  of  Christendom.  Even  among  the  dark  Templars, 
he  who  had  twice  overcome  the  most  famous  lance  of  their 
Order  was  a  respected  though  not  a  welcome  guest :  but  among 
the  opposition  company  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John,  he  was  ad- 
mirecl  and  courted  beyond  measure  ;  and  always  affectioning 
that  Order,  which  offered  him,  indeed,  its  first  rank  and  com- 
manderies,  he  did  much  good  service  ;  fighting  in  their  ranks 
for  the  glory  of  heaven  and  St.  Waltheof,  and  slaying  many 
thousands  of  the  heathen  in  Prussia,  Poland,  and  those  savage 
Norchern  countries.  The  only  fault  that  the  great  and  gallant, 
though  severe  and  ascetic  Folko  of  Heydenbraten,  the  chief  of 
the  Order  of  St.  John,  found  with  the  melancholy  warrior, 
whose  (ance  did  such  good  service  to  the  cause,  was,  that  he 
did  not  persecute  the  Jews  as  so  religious  a  knight  should.  He 
let  off  sundry  captives  of  that  persuasion  whom  he  had  taken 
with  his  sword  and  his  spear,  saved  others  from  torture,  and 
actually  /ansomed  the  two  last  grinders  of  a  venerable  rabbi 
(that  Pvoger  de  Cartright,  an  English  knight  of  the  Order,  was 
about  to  extort  from  the  elderly  Israelite,)  with  a  hundred 
crowns  ar^d  a  gimmal  ring,  which  were  all  the  property  he 
possessed.  Whenever  he  so  ransomed  or  benefited  one  of  this 
religion,  he  would  moreover  give  them  a  little  token  or  a  mes- 
sage (were  the  good  knight  out  of  money),  saying,  "  Take  this 
token,  and  remember  this  deed  was  done  by  Wilfrid  the  Dis- 
inherited, for  2he  services  whilome  rendered  to  him  by  Rebecca, 
the  daughtei  of  Isaac  of  York  !  ''  So  among  themselves,  and 
in  their  meetings  and  synagogues,  and  in  their  restless  travels 
from  land  to  land,  when  they  of  Jewry  cursed  and  reviled  all 
Christians,  as  such  abominable  heathens  will,  they  nevertheless 
excepted  the  name  of  the  Desdichado,  or  the  doubly-disinherited 
as  he  now  was,  the  Desdichado-Doblado. 

The  account  of  all  the  battles,  storms,  and  scaladoes  in 
which  Sir  Wilfrid  took  part,  would  only  weary  the  reader ;  for 
the  chopping  off  i»ne  heathen's  head  with  an  axe  must  be  very 
like  the  decapitatiovi  of  any  other  unbeliever.  Suffice  it  to  say, 
that  wherever  this  kind  of  work  was  to  be  done,  and  Sir  Wil- 
frid was  in  the  way,  he  was  the  man  to  perform  it.  It  would 
astonish  you  were  )''ou  to  see  the  account  that  Wamba  kept  of 
his  master's  achievements,  and  of  the  Bulgarians,  Bohemians, 
Croatians,  slain  or  maimed  by  his  hand.  And  as,  in  those  days, 
a  reputation  for  valor  had  an  immense  effect  upon  the  soft 
hearts  of  women,  and  evrin  the  ugliest  man,  were  he  a  stout 
warrior,  was  looked  \\^iy\.  \s^i\i  ^"avor  by  Beauty  :  so   Ivanhoc, 


IVANHOE    RANSOMS   A   JEW's   GRINDERS. 


IVANHOE  THE  WIDOWER. 


309 


who  was  by  no  means  ill-favored,  though  now  becoming  rather 
elderly,  made  conquests  over  female  breasts  as  well  as  over 
Saracens,  and  had  more  than  one  direct  offer  of  marriage  made 
to  him  by  princesses,  countesses,  and  noble  ladies  possessing 
both  charms  and  money,  which  they  were  anxious  to  place  at 
the  disposal  of  a  champion  so  renowned.  It  is  related  that  the 
Duchess  Regent  of  Kartoffelberg  offered  him  her  hand,  and 
the  ducal  crown  of  Kartoffelberg,  which  he  had  rescued  from 
the  unbelieving  Prussians  ;  but  Ivanhoe  evaded  the  Duchess's 
offer,  by  riding  away  from  her  capital  secretly  at  midnight  and 
hiding  himself  in  a  convent  of  Knights  Hospitallers  on  the 
borders  of  Poland.  And  it  is  a  fact  that  the  Princess  Rosalia 
Seraphina  of  Pumpernickel,  the  most  lovely  woman  of  her  time, 
became  so  frantically  attached  to  him,  that  she  followed  him  on 
a  campaign,  and  was  discovered  with  his  baggage  disguised  as 
a  horse-boy.  But  no  princess,  no  beauty,  no  female  blandish- 
ments had  any  charms  for  Ivanhoe  :  no  hermit  practised  a  more 
austere  celibacy.  The  severity  of  his  morals  contrasted  so  re- 
markably with  the  lax  and  dissolute  manner  of  the  young  lords 
and  nobles  in  the  courts  which  he  frequented,  that  these  young 
springalds  would  sometimes  sneer  and  call  him  Monk  and 
Milksop ;  but  his  courage  in  the  day  of  battle  was  so  terrible 
and  admirable,  that  I  promise  you  the  youthful  libertines  did 
not  sneer  theti ;  and  the  most  reckless  of  them  often  turned 
pale  when  they  couched  their  lances  to  follow  Ivanhoe.  Holy 
Waltheof  !  it  was  an  awful  sight  to  see  him  with  his  pale  calm 
face,  his  shield  upon  his  breast,  his  heavy  lance  before  him, 
charging  a  squadron  of  heathen  Bohemians,  or  a  regiment  of 
Cossacks  !  Wherever  he  saw  the  enemy,  Ivanhoe  assaulted 
him  :  and  when  people  remonstrated  with  him,  and  said  if  he 
attacked  such  and  such  a  post,  breach,  castle,  or  army,  he  would 
be  slain,  "  And  suppose  I  be  ?  "  he  answered,  giving  them  to 
understand  that  he  would  as  lief  the  Battle  of  Life  were  over 
altogether. 

While  he  was  thus  making  war  against  the  Northern  infidels 
news  was  carried  all  over  Christendom  of  a  catastrophe  which 
had  befallen  the  good  cause  in  the  South  of  Europe,  where  the 
Spanish  Christians  had  met  with  such  a  defeat  at  the  hands  of 
the  Moors  as  had  never  been  known  in  the  proudest  days  of 
Saladin. 

Thursday,  the  9th  of  Shaban,  in  the  605th  year  of  the 
Hejira,  is  known  all  over  the  West  as  the  amim-al-ark,  the 
year  of  the  battle  of  Alarcos,  gained  over  the  Christians  by  the' 


3IO 


REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 


Moslems  of  Andaluz,  on  which  fatal  day  Christendom  suffered 
a  defeat  so  signal,  that  it  was  feared  the  Spanish  peninsula 
would  be  entirely  wrested  away  from  the  dominion  of  the 
Cross.  On  that  day  the  Franks  lost  150,000  men  and  30,000 
prisoners.  A  man-slave  sold  among  the  unbelievers  for  a 
dirhem  ;  a  donkey,  for  the  same ;  a  sword,  half  a  dirhem  ;  a 
horse,  five  dirhems.  Hundreds  of  thousands  of  these  various 
sorts  of  booty  were  in  the  possession  of  the  triumphant  follow- 
ers of  Yakoob-al-Mansoor.  Curses  on  his  head  !  But  he  was 
a  brave  warrior,  and  the  Christians  before  him  seemed  to  forget 
that  they  were  the  descendants  of  the  brave  Cid,  iho.  Ka7ibitoor, 
as  the  Moorish  hounds  (in  their  jargon)  denominated  the  famous 
Campeador. 

A  general  move  for  the  rescue  of  the  faithful  in  Spain — a 
crusade  against  the  infidels  triumphing  there,  was  preached 
throughout  Europe  by  all  the  most  eloquent  clergy  ;  and  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  valorous  knights  and  nobles,  accom- 
panied by  well-meaning  varlets  and  vassals  of  the  lower  sort, 
trooped  from  all  sides  to  the  rescue.  The  straits  of  Gibel- 
al-1'ariff,  at  which  spot  the  Moor,  passing  from  Barbary,  first 
planted  his  accursed  foot  on  the  Christian  soil,  were  crowded 
with  the  galleys  of  the  Templars  and  the  Knights  of  St.  John, 
who  flung  succors  into  the  menaced  kingdoms  of  the  penin- 
sula ;  the  inland  sea  swarmed  with  their  ships  hasting  from 
their  forts  and  islands,  from  Rhodes  and  Byzantium,  from  Jaffa 
and  Askalon.  The  Pyrenean  peaks  beheld  the  pennons  and 
glittered  with  the  armor  of  the  knights  marching  out  of  France 
into  Spain  ;  and,  finally,  in  a  ship  that  set  sail  direct  from  Bo- 
hemia, where  Sir  Wilfrid  happened  to  be  quartered  at  the  time 
when  the  news  of  the  defeat  of  Alarcos  came  and  alarmed  all 
good  Christians,  Ivanhoe  landed  at  Barcelona,  and  proceeded 
to  slaughter  the  Moors  forthwith. 

He  brought  letters  of  introduction  from  his  friend  Folko  of 
Heydenbraten,  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Knights  of  Saint 
John,  to  the  venerable  Baldomero  de  Garbanzos,  Grand  Master 
of  the  renowned  order  of  Saint  Jago.  The  chief  of  Saint  Jago's 
knights  paid  the  greatest  respect  to  a  warrior  whose  fame  was 
already  so  widely  known  in  Christendom  ;  and  Ivanhoe  had 
the  pleasure  of  being  appointed  to  all  the  posts  of  danger  and 
forlorn  hopes  that  could  be  devised  in  his  honor.  He  would 
be  called  up  twice  or  thrice  in  a  night  to  fight  tlie  Moors  :  he 
led  ambushes,  scaled  breaches,  was  blown  up  by  mines  ;  was 
wounded  many  hundred  times  (recovering,  thanks  to  the  elixir, 
of  which  Wamba  always  carried  a  sui^ply)  j  he  was  the  terror 


IVA.NHOE   SLAYING   THE   MOORS. 


IVANIIOE  THE  WIDOWER. 


3" 


of  the  Saracens,  and  the  admiration  and  wonder  of  the  Chris- 
tians. 

To  describe  his  deeds  would,  I  say,  be  tedious ;  one  day's 
battle  was  like  that  of  another.  I  am  not  writing  in  ten 
volumes  like  Monsieur  Alexandre  Dumas,  or  even  in  three  like 
other  great  authors.  We  have  no  room  for  the  recounting  of  Sir 
Wilfrid's  deeds  of  valor.  Whenever  he  took  a  Moorish  town,  it 
•was  remarked,  that  he  went  anxiously  into  the  Jewish  quarter, 
and  inquired  amongst  the  Hebrews,  who  were  in  great  numbers 
in  Spain,  for  Rebecca  the  daughter  of  Isaac.  Many  Jews, 
according  to  his  wont,  he  ransomed,  and  created  so  much 
scandal  by  this  proceeding,  and  by  the  manifest  favor  which  he 
showed  to  the  people  of  that  nation,  that  the  Master  of  Saint 
Jago  remonstrated  with  him,  and  it  is  probable  he  would  have 
been  cast  into  the  Inquisition  and  roasted,  but  that  his  pro- 
digious valor  and  success  against  the  Moors  counterbalanced 
his  heretical  partiality  for  the  children  of  Jacob. 

It  chanced  that  the  good  knight  was  present  at  the  siege  of 
Xixona  in  Andalusia,  entering  the  breach  first,  according  to 
his  wont,  and  slaying,  with  his  own  hand,  the  Moorish  lieutenant 
of  the  town,  and  several  hundred  more  of  its  unbelieving 
defenders.  He  had  very  nearly  done  for  the  Alfaqui,  or  gov- 
ernor— a  veteran  warrior  with  a  crooked  scimitar  and  a  beard 
as  white  as  snow — but  a  couple  of  hundred  of  the  Alfaqui's 
body-guard  f.ung  themselves  between  Ivanhoe  and  their  chief, 
and  the  old  fellow  escaped  with  his  life,  leaving  a  handful  of 
his  beard  in  the  grasp  of  the  English  knight.  The  strictly 
military  business  being  done,  and  such  of  the  garrison  as  did 
not  escape  put,  as  by  right,  to  the  sword,  the  good  knight,  Sir 
W'ilfrid  of  Ivanhoe,  took  no  further  part  in  the  proceedings  of 
the  conquerors  of  that  ill-fated  place.  A  scene  of  horrible 
massacre  and  frightful  reprisals  ensued,  and  the  Christian 
warriors,  hot  with  victory  and  flushed  with  slaughter,  were,  it 
is  to  be  feared,  as  savage  in  their  hour  of  triumph  as  ever  their 
heathen  enemies  had  been. 

Among  the  most  violent  and  least  scrupulous  was  the  fero- 
cious Knight  of  Saint  Jago,  Don  Beltran  de  Cuchilla  y  Trabuco 
y  Espada  y  Espelon.  Raging  through  the  vanquished  city  like 
a  demon, -he  slaughtered  indiscriminatelv  all  those  infidels  of 
both  sexes  whose  wealth  did  not  tempt  him  to  a  ransom,  or 
whose  beauty  did  not  reserve  them  for  more  frightful  calamities 
than  death.  The  slaughter  over,  Don  Beltran  took  up  his 
quarters  in  the  Albaycen,  where  the  Alfaqui  had  lived  who  had 
so  narrowly  escaped  the  sword  of  Ivanhoe ;  but  the  wealth,  the 


312 


REBECCA  AND  ROIVENA. 


treasure,  the  slaves,  and  the  family  of  the  fugitive  chieftain, 
were  left  in  possession  of  the  conqueror  of  Xixona.  Among 
the  treasures,  Don  Beltran  recognized  with  a  savage  joy  the 
coat-armors  and  ornaments  of  many  brave  and  unfortunate 
companionsin-arms  who  had  fallen  in  the  fatal  battle  of  Alarcos. 
The  sight  of  those  bloody  relics  added  fury  to  his  cruel  dis- 
position, and  served  to  steel  a  heart  already  but  little  disj^osed 
to  sentiments  of  mercy. 

Three  days  after  the  sack  and  plunder  of  the  place,  Don 
Beltran  was  seated  in  the  hall-court  lately  occupied  by  the 
proud  Alfaqui,  lying  in  his  divan,  dressed  in  his  rich  robes,  the 
fountains  playing  in  the  centre,  the  slaves  of  the  Moor  minister- 
ing to  his  scarred  and  rugged  Christian  conqueror.  Some 
fanned  him  with  peacocks'  pinions,  some  danced  before  him, 
some -sang  Moor's  melodies  to  the  plaintive  notes  of  a  guzla, 
one — it  was  the  only  daughter  of  the  Moor's  old  age,  the  young 
Zutulbe,  a  rosebud  of  beauty — sat  weeping  in  a  corner  of  the 
gilded  hall  :  weeping  for  her  slain  brethren,  the  pride  of  Moslem 
chivalry,  whose  heads  were  blackening  in  the  blazing  sunshine 
on  the  portals  without,  and  for  her  father,  whose  home  had 
been  thus  made  desolate. 

He  and  his  guest,  the  English  knight  Sir  Wilfrid,  were  play- 
ing at  chess,  a  favorite  amusement  with  the  chivalry  of  the 
period,  when  a  messenger  was  announced  from  Valencia,  to 
treat,  if  possible,  for  the  ransom  of  the  remaining  part  of  the 
Alfaqui's  family.  A  grim  smile  lighted  up  Don  Beltran's 
features  as  he  bade  the  black  slave  admit  the  messenger.  He 
entered.  By  his  costume  it  was  at  once  seen  that  the  bearer 
of  the  flag  of  truce  was  a  Jew — the  people  were  employed  con- 
tinually then  as  ambassadors  between  the  two  races  at  war  in 
Spain. 

"  I  come,"  said  the  old  Jew  (in  a  voice  which  made  Sir 
Wilfrid  start),  "from  my  lord  the  Alfaqui  to  my  noble  seiior, 
the  invincible  Don  Beltran  de  Cuchilla,  to  treat  for  the  ransom 
of  the  Moor's  only  daughter,  the  child  of  his  old  age  and  the 
pearl  of  his  affection." 

"  A  pearl  is  a  valuable  jewel,  Hebrew.  What  does  the 
Moorish  dog  bid  for  her  ?  "  asked  Don  Beltran,  still  smiling 
grimly. 

"The  Alfaqui  offers  100,000  dinars,  twenty-four  horses  with 
their  caparisons,  twenty-four  suits  of  plate-armor,  and  diamonds 
and  rubies  to  the  amount  of  1,000,000  dinars." 

"  Ho,  slaves  !  "  roared  Don  ])eltran,  "  show  the  Jew  my 
treasury  of  gold.     How  many  hundred  thousand  pieces  are 


TVANHOE  THE  WIDOWER. 


313 


there  ? "  And  ten  enormous  chests  were  produced  in  which 
the  accountant  counted  1,000  bags  of  1,000  dirhems  each,  and 
displayed  several  caskets  of  jewels  containing  such  a  treasure 
of  rubies,  smaragds,  diamonds  and  jacinths,  as  made  the  eyes 
of  the  aged  ambassador  twinkle  with  avarice. 

"  How  many  horses  are  there  in  my  stable  ?  "  continued 
Don  Beltran  ;  and  Muley,  the  master  of  the  horse,  numbered 
three  hundred  fully  caparisoned ;  and  there  was,  likewise, 
armor  of  the  richest  sort  for  as  many  cavaliers,  who  followed 
the  banner  of  this  doughty  captain. 

"  I  want  neither  money  nor  armor,"  said  the  ferocious  knight ; 
"  tell  this  to  the  Alfaqui,  Jew.  And  I  will  keep  the  child,  his 
daughter,  to  serve  the  messes  for  my  dogs,  and  clean  the  plat- 
ters for  my  scullions." 

"  Deprive  not  the  old  man  of  his  child,"  here  interposed 
the  Knight  of  Ivanhoe  ;  "  bethink  thee,  brave  Don  Beltran,  she 
is  but  an  infant  in  years." 

"  She  is  my  captive,«Sir  Knight,"  replied  the  surly  Don  Bel- 
tran ;  "  I  will  do  with  my  own  as  becomes  me." 

"Take  200,000  dirhems!"  cried  the  Jew;  "more — any- 
thing !     The  Alfaqui  will  give  his  life  for  his  child  !  " 

"  Come  hither,  Zutulbe  ! — come  hither,  thou  Moorish  pearl !  " 
yelled  the  furious  warrior  ;  "  come  closer,  my  pretty  black-eyed 
houri  of  heathenesse  !  Hast  heard  the  name  of  Beltran  de 
Espada  y  Trabuco  }  " 

"  There  were  three  brothers  of  that  name  at  Alarcos,  and 
my  brothers  slew  the  Christian  dogs  !  "  said  the  proud  young 
girl,  looking  boldly  at  Don  Beltran,  who  foamed  with  rage. 

"  The  Moors  butchered  my  mother  and  her  little  ones,  at 
midnight,  in  our  castle  of  Murcia,"  Beltran  said. 

"  Thy  father  fled  like  a  craven,  as  thou  didst,  Don  Bel- 
tran !  "  cried  the  high-spirited  girl. 

"  By  Saint  Jago,  this  is  too  much  !  "  screamed  the  infuriated 
nobleman  ;  and  the  next  moment  there  was  a  shriek,  and  the 
maiden  fell  to  the  ground  with  Don  Beltran's  dagger  in  her 
side. 

"  Death  is  better  than  dishonor  !  "  cried  the  child,  rolling 
on  the  blood-stained  marble  pavement.  "  I — I  spit  upon  thee, 
dog  of  a  Christian  !  "  and  with  this,  and  with  a  savage  laugh, 
she  fell  back  and  died. 

"  Bear  back  this  news,  Jew,  to  the  Alfaqui,"  howled  the  Don, 
spurning  the  beauteous  corpse  with  his  foot.  "  I  would  not 
have  ransomed  her  for  all  the  gold  in  Barbary  !  "  And  shud- 
dering, the  old  Jew  left  the  apartment,  which  Ivanhoe  quitted 
likewise. 


314 


REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 


When  they  were  in  the  outer  court,  the  knight  said  to  tho 
Jew,  "  Isaac  of  York,  dost  thou  not  know  me  ?  "  and  threw  back 
his  hood,  and  looked  at  the  old  man. 

The  old  Jew  stared  wildly,  rushed  forward,  as  if  to  seize  his 
hand,  then  started  back,  trembling  convulsively,  and  clutching 
his  withered  hands  over  his  face,  said,  with  a  burst  of  grief, 
"  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  ! — no,  no  ! — I  do  not  know  thee  !  " 

"  Holy  mother  !  what  has  chanced  ?  "  said  Ivanhoe,  in  his 
turn  becoming  ghastly  pale  ;  "  where  is  thy  daughter — where  is 
Rebecca  ? " 

"  Away  from  me  !  "  said  the  old  Jew,  tottering.  "  Away  ! 
Rebecca  is — dead  !  " 


When  the  Disinherited  Knight  heard  that  fatal  announce- 
ment, he  fell  to  the  ground  senseless,  and  was  for  some  days 
as  one  perfectly  distraught  with  grief.  He  took  no  nourishment 
and  uttered  no  word.  For  weeks  he  cy,d  not  relapse  out  of  his 
moody  silence,  and  when  he  came  partially  to  himself  again,  it 
was  to  bid  his  people  to  horse,  in  a  hollow  voice,  and  to  make 
a  foray  against  the  Moors.  Day  after  day  he  issued  out  against 
these  intidels,  and  did  nought  but  slay  and  slay.  He  took  no 
plunder  as  other  knights  did,  but  left  that  to  his  followers  ;  he 
uttered  no  war-cry,  as  was  the  manner  of  chivalry,  and  he  gave 
no  quarter,  insomuch  that  the  "  silent  knight "  became  the 
dread  of  all  the  Paynims  of  Granada  and  Andalusia,  and  more 
fell  by  his  lance  than  by  that  of  any  the  most  clamorous  cap- 
tains of  the  troops  in  arms  against  them.  Thus  the  tide  of  bat- 
tle turned,  and  the  Arab  historian,  El  Makary,  recounts  how, 
at  the  great  battle  of  Al  Akab,  called  by  the  Spaniards  Las 
Navas,  the  Christians  retrieved  their  defeat  at  Alarcos,  and  ab- 
solutely killed  half  a  million  of  Mahometans.  Fifty  thousand 
of  these,  of  course,  Don  Wilfrid  took  to  his  own  lance  ;  and  it 
was  remarked  that  the  melancholy  warrior  seemed  somewhat 
more  easy  in  spirits  after  that  famous  feat  of  arms- 


THE  END  OE  THE  PERFORMANCE  315 

Chapter  VII. 

THE   END   OF   THE   PERFORMANCE. 

In  a  short  time  the  terrible  Sir  Wilfrid  of  Ivanhoe  had  killed 
off  so  many  of  the  Moors,  that  though  those  unbelieving  mis- 
creants poured  continual  reinforcements  into  Spain  from  Bar- 
bary,  they  could  make  no  head  against  the  Christian  forces,  and 
in  fact  came  into  battle  quite  discouraged  at  the  notion  of  meet- 
ing the  dreadful  silent  knight.  It  was  commonly  believed 
amongst  them,  that  the  famous  Malek  Ric,  Richard  of  England, 
the  conqueror  of  Saladin,  had  come  to  life  again,  and  was  bat- 
tling in  the  Spanish  hosts — that  this,  his  second  life,  was  a 
charmed  one,  and  his  body  inaccessible  to  blow  of  scimitar  or 
thrust  of  spear — that  after  battle  he  ate  the  hearts  and  drank 
the  blood  of  many  young  Moors  for  his  supper  :  a  thousand 
wild  legends  were  told  of  Ivanhoe,  indeed,  so  that  the  Morisco 
warriors  came  half  vanquished  into  the  field,  and  fell  an  easy 
prey  to  the  Spaniards,  who  cut  away  among  them  without 
mercy.  And  although  none  of  the  Spanish  historians  whom  I 
have  consulted  make  mention  of  Sir  Wilfrid  as  the  real  author 
of  the  numerous  triumphs  which  now  graced  the  arms  of  the 
good  cause,  this  is  not  in  the  least  to  be  wondered  at,  in  a  na- 
tion that  has  always  been  notorious  for  bragging,  and  for  the 
non-payment  of  their  debts  of  gratitude  as  of  their  other  obliga- 
tions, and  that  writes  histories  of  the  Peninsular  war  with  the 
Emperor  Napoleon,  without  making  the  slightest  mention  of 
his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  or  of  the  part  taken  by  Brit- 
ish VALOR  in  that  transaction.  Well,  it  must  be  confessed,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  we  brag  enough  of  our  fathers'  feats  in  those 
campaigns  :  but  this  is  not  the  subject  at  present  under  con- 
sideration. 

To  be  brief,  Ivanhoe  made  such  short  work  with  the  unbe- 
lievers, that  the  monarch  of  Aragon,  King  Don  Jayme,  saw 
himself  speedily  enabled  to  besiege  the  city  of  Valencia,  the 
last  stronghold  which  the  Moors  had  in  his  dominions,  and 
garrisoned  by  many  thousands  of  those  infidels  under  the 
command  of  their  King  Aboo  Abdallah  Mahommed,  son  of 
Yakoob-al-Mansoor.  The  Arabian  historian  El  Makary  gives 
a  full  account  of  the  military  precautions  taken  by  Aboo 
Abdallah  to  defend  this  city  ;  but  as  I  do  not  wish  to  make  a 
parade  of  my  learning,  or  to  write  a  costume  novel,  I  shall 


3i6  REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 

pretermit  any  description  of  the  city  under  the  Moorish  gov* 
ernors. 

Besides  the  Turks  who  inhabited  it,  there  dwelt  within  its 
walls  great  store  of  those  of  the  Hebrew  nation,  who  were 
always  protected  by  the  Moors  during  their  unbelieving  reign  in 
Spain  ;  and  who  were,  as  we  very  well  know,  the  chief  physi- 
cians, the  chief  bankers,  the  chief  statesmen,  the  chief  artists 
and  musicians,  the  chief  everything,  under  the  Moorish  kings. 
Thus  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  Hebrews,  having  their  money, 
their  liberty,  their  teeth,  their  lives,  secure  under  the  Mahom- 
etan domination,  should  infinitely  prefer  it  to  the  Christian  sway  ; 
beneath  which  they  were  liable  to  be  deprived  of  every  one  of 
these  benefits. 

Among  these  Hebrews  of  Valencia,  lived  a  very  ancient 
Israelite — no  other  than  Isaac  of  York  before  mentioned,  who 
came  into  Spain  with  his  daughter,  soon  after  Ivanhoe's  mar- 
riage, in  the  third  volume  of  the  first  part  of  this  history.  Isaac 
was  respected  by  his  people  for  the  money  which  he  possessed, 
and  his  daughter  for  her  admirable  good  qualities,  her  beauty, 
her  charities,  and  her  remarkable  medical  skill. 

The  young  Emir  Aboo  Abdallah  was  so  struck  by  her 
charms,  that  though  she  was  considerably  older  than  his  High- 
ness, he  offered  to  marry  her,  and  install  her  as  Number  i  of 
his  wives  ;  and  Isaac  of  York  would  not  have  objected  to  the 
union  (for  such  mixed  marriages  were  not  uncommon  between 
tlae  Hebrews  and  Moors  in  those  days),  but  Rebecca  firmly  yet 
respectfully  declined  the  proposals  of  the  prince,  saying  that  it 
was  impossible  she  should  unite  herself  with  a  man  of  a  creed 
different  to  her  own. 

Although  Isaac,  was,  probably,  not  over-well  pleased  at 
losing  this  chance  of  being  a  father-in-law  to  a  royal  highness, 
yet  as  he  passed  among  his  people  for  a  very  strict  character, 
and  there  were  in  his  family  several  rabbis  of  great  reputation 
and  severity  of  conduct,  the  old  gentleman  was  silenced  by  this 
objection  of  Rebecca's,  and  the  young  lady  herself  applauded 
by  her  relatives  for  her  resolute  behavior.  She  took  their  con- 
gratulations in  a  very  frigid  manner,  and  said  that  it  was  her 
wish  not  to  marry  at  all,  but  to  devote  herself  to  the  practice 
of  medicine  altogether,  and  to  helping  the  sick  and  needy  of 
her  people.  Indeed,  although  she  did  not  go  to  any  public 
meetings,  she  was  as  benevolent  a  creature  as  the  world  ever 
saw  :  the  poor  blessed  her  wherever  they  knew  her,  and  many 
benefited  by  her  who  guessed  not  whence  her  gentle  bounty 
came. 


THE  END  OF  THE  PERFORMANCE.  317 

But  there  are  men  in  Jewry  who  admire  beauty,  and,  as  I 
have  even  heard,  appreciate  money  too,  and  Rebecca  had  such 
a  quantity  of  both,  that  all  the  most  desirable  bachelors  of  the 
people  were  ready  to  bid  for  her.  Ambassadors  came  from  all 
quarters  to  propose  for  her.  Her  own  uncle,  the  venerable 
Ben  Solomons,  with  a  beard  as  long  as  a  Cashmere  goat's,  and 
a  reputation  for  learning  and  piety  which  still  lives  in  his 
nation,  quarrelled  with  his  son  Moses,  the  red-haired  diamond- 
merchant  of  Trebizond,  and  his  son  Simeon,  the  bald  bill- 
broker  of  Bagdad,  each  putting  in  a  claim  for  their  cousin. 
Ben  Minories  came  from  London  and  knelt  at  her  feet ;  Ben 
Jochanan  arrived  from  Paris,  and  thought  to  dazzle  lier  with 
the  latest  waistcoats  from  the  Palais  Royal ;  and  Ben  Jonah 
brought  her  a  present  of  Dutch  herrings,  and  besought  her  to 
come  back  and  be  Mrs.  Ben  Jonah  at  the  Hague. 

Rebecca  temporized  as  best  she  might.  She  thought  her 
uncle  was  too  old.  She  besought  dear  Moses  and  dear  Simeon 
not  to  quarrel  with  each  other,  and  offend  their  father  by  press- 
ing their  suit.  Ben  Minories  from  London,  she  said,  was  too 
young,  and  Jochanan  from  Paris,  she  pointed  out  to  Isaac  of 
York,  must  be  a  spendthrift,  or  he  would  not  wear  those  absurd 
waistcoats.  As  for  Ben  Jonah,  she  said,  she  could  not  bear 
the  notion  of  tobacco  and  Dutch  JHerrings  :  she  wished  to  stay 
with  her  papa,  her  dear  papa.  In  fine,  she  invented  a  thousand 
excuses  for  delay,  and  it  was  plain  that  marriage  was  odious  to 
her.  The  only  man  whom  she  received  with  anything  like 
favor,  was  young  Bevis  Marks  of  London,  with  whom  she  was 
very  familiar.  But  Bevis  had  come  to  her  with  a  certain  token 
that  had  been  given  to  him  by  an  English  knight,  who  saved 
him  from  a  faggot  to  which  the  furious  Hospitaller  Folko  of 
Heydenbraten  was  about  to  condemn  him.  It  was  but  a  ring, 
with  an  emerald  in  it,  that  Bevis  knew  to  be  sham,  and  not 
worth  a  groat.  Rebecca  knew  about  the  value  of  jewels  too  ; 
but  ah  !  she  valued  this  one  more  than  all  the  diamonds  in 
Prester  John's  turban.  She  kissed  it ;  she  cried  over  it ;  she 
wore  it  in  her  bosom  always  ;  and  when  she  knelt  down  night 
and  morning,  she  held  it  between  her  folded  hands  on  her 
neck.  *  *  *  *  Young  Bevis  Marks  went  away  finally  no  better 
off  than  the  others ;  the  rascal  sold  to  the  King  of  France  a 
handsome  ruby,  the  very  size  of  the  bit  of  glass  in  Rebecca's 
ring  ;  but  he  always  said  he  would  rather  have  had  her  than 
ten  thousand  pounds  :  and  very  likely  he  would,  for  it  was 
known  she  would  at  once  have  a  plum  to  her  fortune. 

These  delays,  however,  could  not  continue  forever ;  and  at 
21 


2i8  REBECCA  AND  ROIVENA. 

a  great  family  meeting  held  at  Passover-time,  Rebecca  was 
solemnly  ordered  to  choose  a  husband  out  of  the  gentlemen 
there  present ;  her  aunts  pointing  out  the  great  kindness  which 
had  been  shown  her  by  her  father,  in  permitting  her  to  choose 
for  herself.  One  aunt  was  of  the  Solomon  faction,  another  aunt 
took  Simeon's  side,  a  third  most  venerable  old  lady — the  head 
of  the  family,  and  a  hundred  and  forty-four  years  of  age — was 
ready  to  pronounce  a  curse  upon  her,  and  cast  her  out,  unless 
she  married  before  the  month  was  over.  All  the  jewelled 
heads  of  all  the  old  ladies  in  council,  all  the  beards  of  all  the 
family,  wagged  against  her :  it  must  have  been  an  awful  sight 
to  witness. 

At  last,  then,  Rebecca  was  forced  to  speak.  "  Kinsmen  ! " 
she  said,  turning  pale,  "  when  the  Prince  Abou  Abdil  asked  me 
in  marriage,  I  told  you  I  would  not  wed  but  with  one  of  my 
own  faith." 

"  She  has  turned  Turk,"  screamed  out  the  ladies.  "  She 
wants  to  be  a  princess,  and  has  turned  Turk,"  roared  the 
rabbis. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Isaac,  in  rather  an  appeased  tone,  "  let 
us  hear  what  the  poor  girl  has  got  to  say.  Do  you  want  to 
marry  his  royal  highness,  Rebecca  ?    Say  the  word,  yes  or  no." 

Another  groan  burst  from  the  rabbis — they  cried,  shriek- 
ed, chattered,  gesticulated,  furious  to  lose  such  a  prize  ;  as 
were  the  women,  that  she  should  reign  over  them  a  second 
Esther. 

"  Silence,"  cried  out  Isaac ;  "  let  the  girl  speak.  Speak 
boldly,  Rebecca  dear,  there's  a  good  girl." 

Rebecca  was  as  pale  a  stone.  She  folded  her  arms  on 
her  breast,  and  felt  the  ring  there.  She  looked  round  all  the 
assembly,  and  then  at  Isaac,  "  Father,"  she  said,  in  a  thrill- 
ing low  steady  voice,  "  I  am  not  of  your  religion — I  am  not 
of  the  Prince  Boabdil's  religion — I — I  am  of  his  religion," 

"  His  !  whose,  in  the  name  of  Moses,  girl  ?  "  cried  Isaac. 

Rebecca  clasped  her  hands  on  her  beating  chest  and  looked 
round  with  dauntless  eyes.  "  Of  his,"  she  said,  "  who  saved  my 
life  and  your  honor :  of  my  dear,  dear  champion's,  I  never 
can  be  his,  but  I  will  be  no  other's.  Give  my  money  to  my 
kinsmen  ;  it  is  that  they  long  for.  Take  the  dross,  Simeon 
and  Solomon,  Jonah  and  Jochanan,  and  divide  it  among  you, 
and  leave  me.  I  will  never  be  yours,  I  tell  you,  never.  Do 
you  think,  after  knowing  him  and  hearing  him  speak, — after 
watching  him  wounded  on  his  pillow,  and  glorious  in  battle  " 
(her   eyes   melted    and   kindled    again    as   she    spoke   these 


THE  END  OF  THE  PERFORMANCE.  319 

words),  "  I  can  mate  with  such  as  you  ?  Go.  Leave  me  to 
myself.  I  am  none  of  yours.  I  love  him — I  love  him.  Fate 
divides  us — long,  long  miles  separate  us  ;  and  I  know  we  will 
never  meet  again.  But  I  love  and  bless  him  always.  Yes, 
always.  My  prayers  are  his  ;  my  faith  is  his.  Yes,  my  faith  is 
your  faith,  Wilfrid — Wilfrid  !  I  have  no  kindred  more,-— I  am 
a  Christian ! " 

At  this  last  word  there  was  such  a  row  in  the  assembly,  as 
my  feeble  pen  would  in  vain  endeavor  to  depict.  Old  Isaac 
staggered  back  in  a  fit,  and  nobody  took  the  least  notice  of 
him.  Groans,  curses,  yells  of  men,  shrieks  of  women,  fifled 
the  room  with  such  a  furious  jabbering,  as  might  have  appalled 
any  heart  less  stout  than  Rebecca's  ;  but  that  brave  woman 
was  prepared  for  all ;  expecting,  and  perhaps  hoping,  that 
death  would  be  her  instant  lot.  There  was  but  one  creature 
who  pitied  her,  and  that  was  her  cousin  and  father's  clerk, 
little  Ben  Davids,  who  was  but  thirteen,  and  had  only  just 
begun  to  carry  a  bag,  and  whose  crying  and  boo-hooing,  as  she 
finished  speaking,  was  drowned  in  the  screams  and  maledictions 
of  the  elder  Israelites.  Ben  Davids  was  madly  in  love  with 
his  cousin  (as  boys  often  are  with  ladies  of  twice  their  age), 
and  he  had  presence  of  mind  suddenly  to  knock  over  the  large 
brazen  lamp  on  the  table,  which  illuminated  the  angry  con- 
clave ;  then,  whispering  to  Rebecca  to  go  up  to  her  own  room 
and  lock  herself  in,  or  they  would  kill  her  else,  he  took  her 
hand  and  led  her  out. 

From  that  day  she  disappeared  from  among  her  people. 
The  poor  and  the  wretched'missed  her,  and  asked  for  her  in 
vain.  Had  any  violence  been  done  to  her,  the  poorer  Jews 
would  have  risen  and  put  all  Isaac's  family  to  death  ;  and 
besides,  her  old  flame,  Prince  Boabdil,  would  have  also  been 
exceedingly  wrathful.  She  was  not  killed  then,  but,  so  to 
speak,  buried  alive,  and  locked  up  in  Isaac's  back  kitchen  :  an 
apartment  into  which  scarcely  any  light  entered,  and  where  she 
was  fed  upon  scanty  portions  of  the  most  mouldy  bread  and 
water.  Little  Ben  Davids  was  the  only  person  who  visited 
her,  and  her  sole  consolation  was  to  talk  to  him  about  Ivanhoe, 
and  how  good  and  how  gentle  he  was  ;  how  brave  and  how 
true  ;  and  how  he  slew  the  tremendous  knight  of  the  Templars, 
and  how  he  married  a  lady  whom  Rebecca  scarcely  thought 
worthy  of  him,  but  with  whom  she  prryed  he  might  be  iiappy; 
and  of  what  color  his  eyes  were,  and  what  were  the  arms  on 
his  shield — viz.  :  a  tree  with  the  word  "  Desdichado  "  written 
underneath,  &c.,  &c.,  &c. :  all  which  talk  would  not  have  inter- 


320 


REBECCA  AND  ROIVENA. 


ested  little  Davids,  had  it  come  from  anybody  else's  mouth, 
but  to  which  he  never  tired  of  listening  as  it  fell  from  hei 
sweet  lips. 

So,  in  fact,  when  old  Isaac  of  York  came  to  negotiate  with 
Don  Beltran  de  Cuchilla  for  the  ransom  of  the  Alfaqui's 
daughter  of  Xixona,  our  dearest  Rebecca  was  no  more  dead 
than  you  and  I  ;  and  it  was  in  his  rage  and  fury  against  Ivan~ 
hoe  that  Isaac  told  that  cavalier  the  falsehood  which  caused 
the  knight  so  much  pain  and  such  a  prodigious  deal  of  blood- 
shed to  the  Moors  :  and  who  knows,  trivial  as  it  may  seem, 
whether  it  was  not  that  very  circumstance  which  caused  the 
destruction  in  Spain  of  the  Moorish  power  ? 

Although  Isaac,  we  may  be  sure,  never  told  his  daughter 
that  Ivanhoe  had  cast  up  again,  yet  Master  Ben  Davids  did, 
who  heard  it  from  his  employer;  and  he  saved  Rebecca's  life 
by  communicating  the  intelligence,  for  the  poor  thing  would 
have  infallibly  perished  but  for  this  good  news.  She  had  now 
been  in  prison  four  years  three  months  and  twenty-four  days, 
during  which  time  she  had  partaken  of  nothing  but  bread  and 
water  (except  such  occasional  tit-bits  as  Davids  could  bring 
her — and  these  were  few  indeed  ;  for  old  Isaac  was  always  a 
curmudgeon,  and  seldom  had  more  than  a  pair  of  eggs  for  his 
own  and  Davids'  dinner)  ;  and  she  was  languishing  away,  when 
the  news  came  suddenly  to  revive  her.  Then,  though  in  the 
darkness  you  could  not  see  her  cheeks,  they  began  to  bloom 
again  :  then  her  heart  began  to  beat  and  her  blood  to  flow, 
and  she  kissed  the  ring  on  her  neck  a  thousand  times  a  day  at 
least ;  and  her  constant  question  was,  "  Ben  Davids  !  Ben 
Davids  !  when  is  he  coming  to  besiege  Valencia  ?  "  She  knew 
he  would  come  :  and,  indeed,  the  Christians  were  encamjDcd 

before  the  town  ere  a  month  was  over. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

And  now^,  my  dear  boys  and  girls,  I  think  I  perceive  behind 
that  dark  scene  of  the  back  kitchen  (which  is  just  a  simple 
fiat,  painted  stone-color,  that  shifts  in  a  minute,)  bright  streaks 
of  light  flashing  out,*as  though  they  were  preparing  a  most 
brilliant,  gorgeous,  and  altogether  dazzling  illumination,  with 
effects  never  before  attempted  on  any  stage.  Yes,  the  fairy 
in  the  pretty  pink  tights  and  spangled  muslin  is  getting  into 
the  brilliant  revolving  chariot  of  the  realms  of  bliss. — Yes, 
most  of  the  fiddlers  and  trumpeters  have  gone  round  from  the 
orchestra  to  join  in  the  grand  triumphal  procession,  where  the 
whole  strength  of  the  company  is  already  assembled,  arrayed 
in  costumes  of  Moorish  and   Christian  chivalry  to  celebrate 


THE  END  OF  THE  PERFORMANCE.  321 

the  "Terrible  Escalade,"  the  "Rescue  of  Virtuous  Innocence  " 
— the  Grand  Entry  of  the  Christians  into  Valencia  " — "  Ap- 
pearance of  the  Fairy  Day-Star,"  and  "  Unexampled  displays 
of  pyrotechnic  festivity."  Do  you  not,  I  say,  perceive  that  we 
are  come  to  the  end  of  our  history  ;  and,  after  a  quantity  of 
rapid  and  terrific  fighting,  brilliant  change  of  scenery,  and 
songs,  appropriate  or  otherwise,  are  bringing  our  hero  and 
heroine  together  ?  Who  wants  a  long  scene  at  the  last  ? 
Mammas  are  putting  the  girls'  cloaks  and  boas  on;  papas  have 
gone  out  to  look  for  the  carriage,  and  left  the  box-door  swing- 
ing open,  and  letting  in  the  cold  air :  if  there  were  any  stage- 
conversation,  you  could  not  hear  it,  for  the  scufifling  of  the 
people  who  are  leaving  the  pit.  See,  the  orange-women  are 
preparing  to  retire.  To-morrow  their  play -bills  will  be  as  so 
much  waste  paper — so  will  some  of  our  masterpieces,  woe  is 
me  :  but  lo  !  here  we  come  to  Scene  the  last  and  Valencia  is 
besieged  and  captured  by  the  Christians. 

Who  is  the  first  on  the  wall,  and  who  hurls  down  the  green 
standard  of  the  Prophet  ?  Who  chops  off  the  head  of  the 
Emir  Aboo  What-d'ye-call'im,  just  as  the  latter  has  cut  over 
the  cruel  Don  Beltran  de  Cuchilla  y,  &c.  ?  Who,  attracted  to 
the  Jewish  quarter  by  the  shrieks  of  the  inhabitants  who  are 
being  slain  by  the  Moorish  soldiery,  and  by  a  little  boy  by  the 
name  of  Ben  Davids,  who  recognizes  the  knight  by  his  shield, 
finds  Isaac  of  York  cgorge  on  a  threshold,  and  clasping  a  large 
back  kitchen  key  ?  Who  but  Ivanhoe — who  but  Wilfrid  ?  "  An 
Ivanhoe  to  the  rescue,"  he  bellows  out ;  he  has  heard  that 
news  from  little  Ben  Davids  which  makes  him  sing.  And  who 
is  it  that  comes  out  of  the  house — trembling — panting — with 
her  arms  out — in  a  white  dress — with  her  hair  down — who  is  it 
but  dear  Rebecca  ?  Look,  they  rush  together,  and  Master 
Wamba  is  waving  an  immense  banner  over  them,  and  knocks 
down  a  circumambient  Jew  with  a  ham,  which  he  happens  to 
have  in  his  pocket.  *  *  *  As  for  Rebecca,  now  her  head 
is  laid  upon  Ivanhoe's  heart,  I  shall  not  ask  to  hear  what  she 
is  whispering,  or  describe  further  that  scene  of  meeting  ;  though 
I  declare  I  "am  quite  affected  when  I  think  of  it.  Indeed  I 
have  thought  of  it  any  time  these  five-and-twenty  years — ever 
since,  as  a  boy  at  school,  I  commenced  the  noble  study  of 
novels — ever  since  the  day  when,  lying  on  sunny  slopes  of  half- 
holidays,  the  fair  chivalrous  figures  and  beautiful  shapes  of 
knights  and  ladies  were  visible  to  me — ever  since  I  grew  to 
love  Rebecca,  that  sweetest  creature  of  the  poet's  fancy,  and 
longed  to  see  her  righted. 


322 


REBECCA  AND  ROWENA. 


That  she  and  Ivanhoe  were  married,  follows  of  course  ;  for 
Rowena's  promise  extorted  from  him  was,  that  he  would  never 
wed  a  Jewess,  and  a  better  Christian  than  Rebecca  now  was 
never  said  her  catechism.  Married  I  am  sure  they  Avere,  and 
adopted  little  Cedric  ;  but  I  don't  think  they  had  any  other 
children,  or  were  subsequently  very  boisterously  happy.  Of 
some  sort  of  happiness  melancholy  is  a  characteristic,  and  I 
think  these  were  a  solemn  pair,  and  died  rather  early. 


THE  HISTORY 

OF    THE 

NEXT    FRENCH     REVOLUTION. 

[jFroPi  a  fortJicotning  History  of  Europe^ 


THE  HISTORY 

OF   THE 

NEXT    FRENCH     REVOLUTION, 

[From  a  forthcoming  History  of  Europe^ 


Chapter  I. 

It  is  seldom  that  the  historian  has  to  record  events  more 
singular  than  those  which  occurred  during  this  year,  when  the 
Crown  of  France  was  battled  for  by  no  less  than  four  pretend- 
ers, with  equal  claims,  merits,  bravery,  and  popularity.  First 
in  the  list  we  place— His  Royal  Highness  Louis  Anthony 
Frederick  Samuel  Anna-Maria,  Duke  of  Brittany,  and  son  of 
Louis  XVI.  The  unhappy  Prince,  when  a  prisoner  with  his 
unfortunate  parents  in  the  Temple,  was  enabled  to  escape  from 
that  place  of  confinement,  hidden  (for  the  treatment  of  the 
ruffians  who  guarded  him  had  caused  the  young  Prince  to 
dwindle  down  astonishingly)  in  the  cocked-hat  of  the  Repre- 
sentative, Roederer.  It  is  well  known  that,  in  the  troublous 
revolutionary  times,  cocked-hats  were  worn  of  a  considerable 
size. 

He  passed  a  considerable  part  of  his  life  in  Germany ;  was 
confined  there  for  thirty  years  in  the  dungeons  of  Spielberg ; 
and,  escaping  thence  to  England,  was,  under  pretence  of  debt, 
but  in  reality  from  political  hatred,  imprisoned  there  also  in  the 
Tower  of  London.  He  must  not  be  confounded  with  any  other 
of  the  persons  who  laid  claim  to  be  children  of  the  unfortunate 
victim  of  the  first  Revolution. 

The  next  claimant,  Henri  of  Bordeaux,  is  better  known, 


326  THE  msTokV  OP  Tim 

In  the  year  1843  he  held  his  little  fugitive  court  in  furnished 
lodgings,  in  a  forgotten  district  of  London,  called  Belgrave 
Square.  Many  of  the  nobles  of  France  flocked  thither  to  him, 
despising  the  persecutions  of  the  occupant  of  the  throne  ;  and 
some  of  the  chiefs  of  the  British  nobility— among  whom  may 
be  reckoned  the  celebrated  and  chivalrous  Duke  of  Jenkins- 
aided  the  adventurous  young  Prince  with  their  counsels,  theif 
wealth,  and  their  valor. 

The  third  candidate  was  his  Imperial  Highness  Prince  John 
Thomas  Napoleon — a  fourteenth  cousin  of  the  late  Emperor  j 
and  said  by  some  to  be  -a  Prince  of  the  House  of  Gomersal. 
He  argued  justly  that,  as  the  immediate  relatives  of  the  cele« 
brated  Corsican  had  declined  to  compete  for  the  crown  which 
was  their  right,  he,  Prince  John  Thomas,  being  next  in  succes- 
sion, was,  undoubtedly,  heir  to  the  vacant  imperial  throne. 
And  in  support  of  his  claim,  he  appealed  to  the  fidelity  of 
Frenchmen  and  the  strength  of  his  good  sword. 

His  Majesty  Louis  Philippe  was,  it  need  not  be  said,  the 
illustrious  wielder  of  the  sceptre  which  the  three  above-named 
princes  desired  to  wrest  from  him.  It  does  not  appear  that 
the  sagacious  monarch  was  esteemed  by  his  subjects,  as  such 
a  prince  should  have  been  esteemed.  The  light-minded  people, 
on  the  contrary,  were  rather  weary  than  otherwise  of  his  sway. 
They  were  not  in  the  least  attached  to  his  amiable  family,  for 
whom  his  Majesty  with  characteristic  thrift  had  endeavored  to 
procure  satisfactory  allowances.  And  the  leading  statesmen 
of  the  country,  whom  his  Majesty  had  disgusted,  were  sus- 
pected of  entertaining  any  but  feelings  of  loyalty  towards  his 
house  and  person. 

It  was  against  the  above-named  pretenders  that  Louis 
Philippe  (now  nearly  a  hundred  years  old),  a  prince  amongst 
sovereigns,  was  called  upon  to  defend  his  crown. 

The  city  of  Paris  was  guarded,  as  we  all  know,  by  a  hundred 
and  twenty-four  forts,  of  a  thousand  guns  each — provisioned 
for  a  considerable  time,  and  all  so  constructed  as  to  fire,  if  need 
were,  upon  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries.  Thus,  should  the  mob 
attack  it,  as  in  August  1792,  and  July  1830,  the  building  could 
be  razed  to  the  ground  in  an  hour ;  thus,  too,  the  capital  was 
quite  secure  from  foreign  invasion.  Another  defence  against 
the  foreigners  was  the  state  of  the  roads.  Since  the  English 
companies  had  retired,  half  a  mile  only  of  railroad  had  been 
completed  in  France,  and  thus  any  army  accustomed,  as  those 
of  Europe  now  are,  to  move  at  sixty  miles  an  hour,  would  have 
been  e/i/iiiyed  to  death  before  they  could  have   marched  from 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


327 


the  Rhenish,  the  Maritime,  the  Alpine,  or  the  Pyrenean  frontier 
upon  the  capital  of  France.  The  French  people,  however,  were 
indignant  at  this  defect  of  communication  in  their  territory,  and 
said,  without  the  least  show  of  reason,  that  they  would  have 
preferred  that  the  five  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand 
bilUons  of  francs  which  had  been  expended  upon  the  fortifica- 
tions should  have  been  laid  out  in  a  more  peaceful  manner. 
However,  behind  his  forts,  the  King  lay  secure. 

As  it  is  our  aim  to  depict  in  as  vivid  a  manner  as  possible 
the  strange  events  of  the  period,  the  actions,  the  passions  of 
individuals  and  parties  engaged,  we  cannot  better  describe 
them  than  by  referring  to  contemporary  documents,  of  which 
there  is  no  lack.  It  is  amusing  at  the  present  day  to  read  in 
pages  of  the  Moniteur  and  the  yournal  dcs  Debuts  the  accounts 
of  the  strange  scenes  which  took  place. 

The  year  1884  had  opened  very  tranquilly.  The  Court  of 
the  Tuileries  had  been  extremely  gay.  The  three-and-twenty 
youngest  Princes  of  England,  sons  of  her  Majesty  Victoria,  had 
enlivened  the  balls  by  their  presence  ;  the  Emperor  of  Russia 
and  family  had  paid  their  accustomed  visit ;  and  the  King  of 
the  Belgians  had,  as  usual,  made  his  visit  to  his  Royal  father- 
in-law,  under  pretence  of  duty  and  pleasure,  but  really  to  de- 
mand payment  of  the  Queen  of  the  Belgians'  dowry,  which 
Louis  Philippe  of  Orleans  still  resolutely  declined  to  pay.  Who 
would  have  thought  that  in  the  midst  of  such  festivity  danger 
was  lurking  rife,  in  the  midst  of  such  quiet,  rebellion  ? 

Charenton  was  the  great  lunatic  asylum  of  Paris,  and  it  was 
to  this  repository  that  the  scornful  journalist  consigned  the 
pretender  to  the  throne  of  Louis  XVI. 

But  on  the  next  day,  viz.:  Saturday,  the  29th  February,  the 
same  journal  contained  a  paragraph  of  a  much  more  startling 
and  serious  import  \  in  which,  although  under  a  mask  of  care- 
lessness, it  was  easy  to  see  the  Government  alarm. 

On  Friday,  the  2Sth  February,  the  yournal  des  Debats  con- 
tained a  paragraph,  which  did  not  occasion  much  sensation 
at  the  Bourse,  so  absurd  did  its  contents  seem.  It  ran  as  fol- 
lows : — 

"  Encore  un  Louis  XVII. !  A  letter  from  Calais  tells  us 
that  a  strange  personage  lately  landed  from  England  (from 
Bedlam  we  believe)  has  been  giving  himself  out  to  be  the  son 
of  the  unfortunate  Louis  XVI.  This  is  the  twenty -fourth  pre- 
tender of  the  species  who  has  asserted  that  his  father  was  the 
august  victim  of  the  Temple.  Beyond  his  pretensions,  the 
poor  creature  is  said  to  be  pretty  harmless ;  he  is  accompanied 


328  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

by  one  or  two  old  women,  who  declare  they  recognize  in  him 
the  Dauphin  ;  he  does  not  make  any  attempt  to  seize  upon  liis 
throne  by  force  of  arms,  but  waits  until  heaven  shall  conduct 
him  to  it.  ^ 

"If  his  Majesty  comes  to  Paris,  we  presume  he  will  take 
tip  his  quarters  in  the  palace  of  C/iarenfon. 

'•We  have  not  before  alluded  to  certain  rumors  which  have 
been  afloat  (among  the  lowest  canaille  and  the  vilest  esfamincts 
of  the  metropolis),  that  a  notorious  personage — why  should  we 
hesitate  to  mention  the  name  of  the  Prince  John  Thomas 
Napoleon  ? — has  entered  France  with  culpable  intentions,  and 
revolutionary  views.  The  Motiiteiir  of  this  morning,  however, 
confirms  the  disgraceful  fact.  A  pretender  is  on  our  shores  ; 
an  armed  assassin  is  threatening  our  peaceful  liberties ;  a 
wandering,  homeless  cutthroat  is  robbing  on  our  highways  ; 
and  the  punishment  of  his  crime  awaits  him.  Let  no  consider- 
ations of  the  past  defer  that  just  punishment ;  it  is  the  duty  of 
the  legislator  to  provide  for  the  future.  Let  the  full  powers  of 
the  law  be  brought  against  him,  aided  by  the  stern  justice  of 
the  public  force.  Let  him  be  tracked,  like  a  wild  beast,  to  hi? 
lair,  and  meet  the  fate  of  one.  But  the  sentence  has,  ere  this, 
been  certainly  executed.  The  brigand,  we  hear,  has  been  dis- 
tributing (without  any  effect)  pamphlets  among  the  low  ale- 
houses and  peasantry  of  the  department  of  the  Upper  Rhine 
(in  which  he  lurks)  ;  and  the  Police  have  an  easy  means  of 
tracking  his  footsteps. 

"  Corporal  Cnine,  of  the  Gendarmerie,  is  on  the  track  of 
the  unfortunate  young  man.  His  attempt  will  only  serve  to 
show  the  folly  of  the  pretenders,  and  the  love,  respect,  regard, 
fidelity,  admiration,  reverence,  and  passionate  personal  attach- 
ment in  which  we  hold  our  beloved  sovereign." 

"  Second  Edition  ! — Capture  of  the  Prince. 

"  A  courier  has  just  arrived  at  the  Tuileries  with  a  report 
that  after  a  scuffle  between  Corporal  Crane  and  the  '  Imperial 
Army,'  in  a  water-barrel,  whither  the  latter  had  retreated, 
victory  has  remained  with  the  former.  A  desperate  combat 
ensued  in  the  first  place,  in  a  hay-loft,  whence  the  pretender 
was  ejected  with  immense  loss.  He  is  now  a  prisoner — and 
we  dread  to  think  what  his  fate  may  be  !  It  will  warn  future 
aspirants,  and  give  Europe  a  lesson  which  it  is  not  likely  to 
forget.  Above  all,  it  will  set  beyond  a  doubt  the  regard,  re- 
spect, admiration,  reverence,  and  adoration  which  we  all  feel 
for  our  sovereign." 


]^EXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  329 

"  Third  Edition. 

"  A  second  courier  has  arrived.  The  infatuated  Crfme  has 
made  common  cause  with  the  Prince,  and  forever  forfeited  the 
respect  of  Frenchmen.  A  detachment  of  the  520th  Leger  has 
marched  in  pursuit  of  the  pretender  and  his  dupes.  Go,  Frencli- 
men,  go  and  conquer  !  Remember  that  it  is  our  rights  you 
guard,  our  homes  which  you  march  to  defend  ;  our  laws  which 
are  confided  to  the  points  of  your  unsullied  bayonets; — above 
all,  our  dear,  dear  sovereign,  around  whose  throne  you  rally  ! 

"Our  feelings  overpower  us.  Men  of  the  520th,  remember 
your  watchword  is  Gemappes, — your  countersign,  Valmy." 

"  The  Emperor  of  Russia  and  his  distinguished  family 
quitted  the  Tuileries  this  day.  His  Imperial  Majesty  embraced 
his  Majesty  the  King  of  the  French  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and 
conferred  upon  their  RR,  HH.  the  Princes  of  Nemours  and 
Joinville,  the  Grand  Cross  of  the  Order  of  the  Blue  Eagle." 

"  His  Majesty  passed  a  review  of  the  Police  force.  The 
venerable  monarch  was  received  with  deafening  cheers  by  this 
admirable  and  disinterested  body  of  men.  Those  cheers  were 
echoed  in  all  French  hearts.  Long,  long  may  our  beloved 
Prince  be  among  us  to  receive  them !  " 


Chapter  II. 

HENRY   V.   AND    NAPOLEON    HI. 


Sunday,  Feb.  y^ih. 

We  resume  our  quotations  from  the  Debats,  which  thus  in- 
troduces a  third  pretender  to  the  throne  : — ■ 

"  Is  this  distracted  country  never  to  have  peace  ?  While 
on  Friday  we  recorded  the  pretensions  of  a  maniac  to  the  great 
rhrone  of  France  ;  while  on  Saturday  we  were  compelled  to 
register  the  culpable  attempts  of  one  whom  we  regard  as  a 
ruffian,  murderer,  swindler,  forger,  burglar,  and  common  pick- 
pocket, to  gain  over  the  allegiance  of  Frenchmen — it  is  to-day 
our  painful  duty  to  announce  a  third  invasion — yes,  a  third  in- 
vasion.    The  wretched,  superstitious,  fanatic  Duke  of  Bordeaux 


«^Q  TlIE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

has  landed  at  Nantz,  and  has  summoned  the  Vendeans  and 
the  Bretons  to  mount  the  white  cockade. 

"  Grand  Dieu  !  are  we  not  happy  under  the  tricolor?  Do 
we  not  repose  under  the  majestic  shadow  of  the  best  of  Kings? 
Is  there  any  name  prouder  than  that  of  Frenchman  ;  any  sub- 
ject more  happy  than  that  of  our  sovereign?  Does  not  the 
whole  French  family  adore  their  father  ?  Yes,  Our  lives,  our 
hearts,  our  blood,  our  fortune,  are  at  his  disposal  :  it  was  not 
in  vain  that  we  raised,  it  is  not  the  first  time  we  have  rallied 
round,  the  august  throne  of  July.  The  unhappy  Duke  is  most 
likely  a  prisoner  by  this  time  ;  and  the  martial  court  which  shall 
be  called  upon  to  judge  our  infamous  traitor  and  pretender, 
may  at  the  same  moment  judge  another.  Away  with  both  !  let 
the  ditch  of  Vincennes  (which  has  been  already  fatal  to  his 
race)  receive  his  body,  too,  and  with  it  the  corpse  of  the  other 
pretender.  Thus  will  a  great  crime  be  wiped  out  of  history, 
and  the  names  of  a  slaughtered  martyr  avenged  ! 

"  One  word  more.  We  hear  that  the  Duke  of  Jenkins  ac- 
companies the  descendant  of  Caroline  of  Naples.  An  English 
Duke,  entendez-vous  I  An  English  Duke,  great  heaven !  and 
the  Princes  of  England  still  dancing  in  our  royal  halls  !  Where, 
where  will  the  perfidy  of  Albion  end  ?  " 


"  The  King  reviewed  the  third  and  fourth  battalions  of 
Police.  The  usual  heartrending  cheers  accompanied  the 
monarch,  who  looked  younger  than  ever  we  saw  him — ay,  as 
young  as  when  he  faced  the  Austrian  cannon  at  Valmy  and 
scattered  their  squadrons  at  Gemappes. 

"  Rations  of  liquor,  and  crosses  of  the  Legion  of  Honor, 
were  distributed  to  all  the  men. 

"  The  English  Princes  quitted  the  Tuileries  in  twenty-three 
coaches-and-four.  They  were  not  rewarded  with  crosses  of  the 
Les:ion  of  Honor.     This  is  significant." 


"  The  Dukes  of  Joinville  and  Nemours  left  the  palace  for 
the  departments  of  the  Loire  and  Upper  Rhine,  where  they 
will  take  the  command  of  the  troops.  The  Joinville  regiment 
— Cavakrie  de  la  Marine — is  one  of  the  finest  in  the  service." 


"  Orders  have  been  given  to  arrest  the  fanatic  who  calls 
himself  Duke  of  Brittany,  and  who  has  been  making  some  dis- 
turbances in  Xki^  Pas  de  Calais^ 


"Anecdote  of  His  Majesty.  —  At  the  review  of  troops 


NEXT  FRENCH  RE  VOL  UTION.  ^^  1 

(Police)  3'esterday,  his  Majesty,  going  up  to  one  old  grogiiard 
and  pulling  him  by  the  ear,  said,  '  Wilt  thou  have  a  cross  or 
another  ration  of  wine  ? '  The  old  hero,  smiling  archly,  an- 
swered, '  Sire,  a  brave  man  can  gain  a  cross  any  day  of  battle, 
but  it  is  hard  for  him  sometimes  to  get  a  drink  of  wine.'  We 
need  not  say  that  he  had  his  drink,  and  the  generous  sovereign 
sent  him  the  cross  and  ribbon  too." 


On  the  next  day,  the  Government  journals  begin  to  write  in 
tather  a  despondent  tone  regarding  the  progress  of  the  pre- 
tenders to  the  throne.  In  spite  of  their  big  talking,  anxiety  is 
cleaily  manifested,  as  appears  from  the  following  remarks  of 
the  Debats  : 

"  The  courier  from  the  Rhine  department,"  say  the  Debats, 
"  brings  us  the  following  astounding  Proclamation  :— 

'' '  Strasburg,  xxii.  Nivose  :  Decadi.  gand  year  of  the  Re- 
public, one  and  indivisible.  We,  John  Thomas  Napoleon,  by 
the  constitutions  of  the  Empire,  Emperor  of  the  French  Re- 
public, to  our  marshals,  generals,  ofBcers,  and  soldiers,  greeting  : 

"  '  Soldiers  ! 

"  '  From  the  summit  of  the  Pyramids  forty  centuries  look 
down  upon  you.  The  sun  of  Austerlitz  has  risen  once  more. 
The  Guard  dies,  but  never  surrenders.  My  eagles,  flying  from 
steeple  to  steeple,  never  shall  droop  till  they  perch  on  the 
towers  of  Notre  Dame. 

"  '  Soldiers  !  the  child  oi  your  fathe?-  has  remained  long  in 
exile.  I  have  seen  the  fields  of  Europe  where  your  laurels  are 
now  withering,  and  I  have  communed  with  the  dead  who  repose 
beneath  them.  They  ask  where  are  our  children  ?  Where  is 
France  ?  Europe  no  longer  glitters  with  the  shine  of  its  tri- 
umphant bayonets — echoes  no  more  with  the  shouts  of  its  vic- 
torious cannon.  Who  could  reply  to  such  a  question  save  with 
a  blush  ?— And  does  a  blush  become  the  cheeks  of  Frenchmen  ? 

"  '  No.  Let  us  wipe  from  our  faces  that  degrading  mark  of 
shame.  Come,  as  of  old,  and  rally  round  my  eagles  !  You 
have  been  subject  to  fiddling  prudence  long  enough.  Come, 
worship  now  at  the  shrine  of  Glory  I  You  have  been  promised 
liberty,  but  you  have  had  none.  I  will  endow  you  with  the 
true,  the  real  freedom.  When  your  ancestors  burst  over  the 
Alps,  were  they  not  free  ?  Yes  ;  free  to  conquer.  Let  us 
imitate  the  example  of  those  indomitable  myriads  ;  and,  fling- 
ing a  defiance  to  Europe,  once  more  trample  over  her ;  march 
in  triumph  into  her  prostrate  capitals,  and  bring  her  kings  with 


332  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  ^       ' 

her   treasures   at   our   feet.     This    is   the    liberty    worthy  of 
Frenclimen. 

" '  Frenchmen !  I  promise  you  that  the  Rhine  shall  be 
restored  to  you ;  and  that  England  shall  rank  no  more  among 
the  nations.  I  will  have  a  marine  that  shall  drive  her  ships 
from  the  seas  ;  a  few  of  my  brave  regiments  will  do  the  rest. 
Henceforth  the  traveller  in  that  desert  island  shall  ask,  "  Was 
it  this  wretched  comer  of  the  world  that  for  a  thousand  years 
defied  Frenchmen  ? " 

"  '  Frenchmen,  up  and  rally  ! — I  have  flung  my  banner  to 
the  breezes  ;  'tis  surrounded  by  the  faithful  and  the  brave.  Up, 
and  let  our  motto  be,  Liberty,  Equality,  War  all  over  the 
World  ! 

"  '  Napoleon  III. 
"  '  The  Marshal  of  the  Empire,  Haricot.' 

"  Such  is  the  Proclamation  !  such  the  hopes  that  a  brutal- 
minded  and  bloody  adventurer  holds  out  to  our  country.  '  W^ar 
all  over  the  world,'  is  the  cry  of  the  savage  demon  ;  and  the 
fiends  who  have  rallied  round  him  echo  it  in  concert.  We  were 
not,  it  appears,  correct  in  stating  that  a  corporal's  guard  had 
been  sufficient  to  seize  upon  the  marauder,  when  the  first  fire 
would  have  served  to  conclude  his  miserable  life.  But,  like  a 
hideous  disease,  the  contagion  has  spread ;  the  remedy  must 
be  dreadful.     Woe  to  those  on  whom  it  will  fall ! 

"  His  Royal  Highness  the  Prince  of  Joinville,  Admiral  of 
France,  has  hastened,  as  we  before  stated,  to  the  disturbed  dis- 
tricts, and  takes  with  him  his  Cavalcrie  de  la  Alarine.  It  is  hard 
to  think  that  the  blades  of  those  chivalrous  heroes  must  be 
buried  in  the  bosoms  of  Frenchmen  :  but  so  be  it:  it  is  those 
monsters  who  have  asked  for  blood,  not  we.  It  is  those  ruffians 
who  have  begun  the  quarrel,  not  we.  We  remain  calm  and 
hopeful,  reposing  under  the  protection  of  the  dearest  and  best 
of  sovereigns. 

"  The  wretched  pretender,  who  called  himself  Duke  of  Brit- 
tanny,  has  been  seized,  according  to  our  prophecy  :  he  was 
brought  before  the  Prefect  of  Police  yesterday,  and  his  insanity 
being  proved  beyond  a  doubt,  he  has  been  consigned  to  a  strait- 
waistcoat  at  Charenton.  So  may  all  incendiary  enemies  of  our 
Government  be  overcome  ! 

"  His  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of  Nemours  is  gone  into 
the  department  of  the  Loire,  where  he  will  speedily  put  an  end 
to  the  troubles  in  the  disturbed  districts  of  the  Bocage  and  La 
Vendee.     The  foolish  young  Prince,  who   has  there  raised  his 


NEXT  FRENCH  RE  VOL  UTION. 


ZZl 


Standard,  is  followed,  we  hear,  by  a  small  number  of  wretched 
persons,  of  whose  massacre  we  expect  ever}''  moment  to  receive 
the  news.  He  too  has  issued  his  Proclamation,  and  our  readers 
will  smile  at  its  contents  : 

" '  We,  Henry,  Fifth  of  the  Name,  King  of  France  and 
Navarre,  to  all  whom  it  may  concern,  greeting : 

"  '  After  years  of  exile  we  have  once  more  unfurled  in  France 
the  banner  of  the  lilies.  Once  more  the  white  plume  of  Henri 
IV.  floats  in  the  crest  of  his  little  son  {petit Jils)  !  Gallant 
nobles  !  worthy  burgesses  !  honest  commons  of  my  realm,  I 
call  upon  you  to  rally  round  the  oriflamme  of  France,  and  sum- 
mon the  l>an  arrih-ebati  of  my  kingdoms.  To  my  faithful  Bri- 
tons I  need  not  appeal.  The  country  of  Duguesclin  has  loyalty 
for  an  heirloom  !  To  the  rest  of  my  subjects,  my  atheist  mis- 
guided subjects,  their  father  makes  one  last  appeal.  Come 
to  me,  my  children  !  your  errors  shall  be  forgiven.  Our  Holy 
Father,  the  Pope,  shall  intercede  for  you.  He  promised  it 
when,  before  my  departure  on  this  expedition,  I  kissed  his  in- 
violable toe ! 

"  '  Our  afflicted  country  cries  aloud  for  reforms.  The  infa- 
mous universities  shall  be  abolished.  Education  shall  no  longer 
be  permitted.  A  sacred  and  wholesome  inquisition  shall  be 
established.  My  faithful  nobles  shall  pay  no  more  taxes.  All 
the  venerable  institutions  of  our  country  shall  be  restored  as 
they  existed  before  1788.  Convents  and  monasteries  again  shall 
ornament  our  country, — the  calm  nurseries  of  saints  and  holy 
women  !  Heresy  shall  be  extirpated  with  paternal  severity,  and 
our  country  shall  be  free  once  more. 

" '  His  Majesty  the  King  of  Ireland,  my  august  ally,  has 
sent,  under  the  command  of  His  Royal  Highness  Prince  Daniel, 
his  Majesty's  youngest  son,  an  irresistible  Irish  Brigade,  to 
co-operate  in  the  good  work.  His  Grace  the  Lion  of  Judah, 
the  canonized  patriarch  of  Tuam,  blessed  their  green  banner 
before  they  set  forth.  Henceforth  may  the  lilies  and  the  harp 
be  ever  twined  together.  Together  we  will  make  a  crusade 
against  the  infidels  of  Albion,  and  raze  their  heretic  domes  to 
the  ground.  Let  our  cry  be,  Vive  hi  France  /  down  with  Eng- 
land !     Montjoie  St.  Denis  ! 

*' '  By  the  King. 
'"The    Secretary  of   State 


and  Grand  Inquisitor....       La  Roue. 
The  Marshal  of  France....      Pompadour  de  l'Aile  de 


Pigeon. 


334 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


The  General  Commander- 
in-chief  of  the  Irish 
Brigade  in  the  service 
of  his  Most    Christian 

Majesty Daniel,  Prince  of  Bally- 
bunion. 
'HENRI.'" 

"  His  Majesty  reviewed  the  admirable  Police  force,  and  held 
a  council  of  Ministers  in  the  afternoon.  Measures  were  con- 
certed for  the  instant  putting  down  of  the  disturbances  in  the 
departments  of  the  Rhine  and  Loire,  and  it  is  arranged  that  on 
the  capture  of  the  pretenders,  they  shall  be  lodged  in  separate 
cells  in  the  prison  of  the  Luxembourg  :  the  apartments  are 
already  prepared,  and  the  officers  at  their  posts. 

"  The  grand  banquet  that  was  to  be  given  at  the  palace  to- 
day to  the  diplomatic  body,  has  been  put  off ;  all  the  ambassa- 
dors being  attacked  with  illness,  which  compels  them  to  stay  at 
home." 


"  The    ambassadors  despatched   couriers  to  their  various 
Governments." 


"  His  Majesty  the  King  of  the  Belgians  left  the  palace  of  the 
Tuileries." 


Chapter  III. 

THE   ADVANCE   OF   THE   PRETENDERS — HISTORICAL    REVIEW. 

We  will  now  resume  the  narrative,  and  endeavor  to  com- 
press, in  a  few  comprehensive  pages,  the  facts  which  are  more 
diffusely  described  in  the  print  from  which  we  have  quoted. 

It  was  manifest,  then,  that  the  troubles  in  the  departments 
were  of  a  serious  nature,  and  that  the  forces  gathered  round 
the  two  pretenders  to  the  crown  were  considerable.  They  had 
their  supporters  too  in  Paris, — as  what  party  indeed  has  not  ? 
and  the  venerable  occupant  of  the  throne  was  in  a  state  of  con- 
siderable  anxiety,  and  found  his  declining  years  by  no  means  so 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


335 


comfortable  as  his  virtues  and  great  age  might  have  war- 
ranted. 

His  paternal  heart  was  the  more  grieved  when  he  thought 
of  the  fate  reserved  to  his  children,  grandchildren,  and  great- 
grandchildren, now  ST^rung  up  around  him  in  vast  numbers. 
The  King's  grandson.,  the  Prince  Royal,  married  to  a  Princess 
of  the  house  of  Schlippen-Schloppen,  was  the  father  of  fourteen 
children,  all  handsomely  endowed  with  pensions  by  the  State. 
His  brother,  the  Count  D'Eu,  was  similarly  blessed  with  a  mul- 
titudinous offspring.  The  Duke  of  Nemours  had  no  children  ; 
but  the  Princes  of  Joinville,  Aumale,  and  Montpensier  (married 
to  the  Princesses  Januaria  and  Februaria,  of  Brazil,  and  the 
Princess  of  the  United  States  of  America,  erected  into  a  mon- 
archy, 4th  July,  1856,  under  the  Emperor  Duff  Green  I.)  were 
the  happy  fathers  of  immense  families — all  liberally  apportioned 
by  the  Chambers,  which  had  long  been  entirely  subservient  to 
his  Majesty  Louis  Philippe. 

The  Duke  of  Aumale  was  King  of  Algeria,  having  married 
(in  the  first  instance)  the  Princess  Badroulboudour,  a  daughter 
of  his  Highness  Abd-El-Kader.  The  Prince  of  Joinville  was 
adored  by  the  nation,  on  account  of  his  famous  victory  over  the 
English  fleet  under  the  command  of  Admiral  the  Prince  of 
Wales,  whose  ship,  the  "Richard  Cobden,"  of  120  guns,  was 
taken  by  the  "  Belle-Poule  "  frigate  of  36  :  on  which  occasion 
forty-five  other  ships  of  war  and  seventy-nine  steam-frigates 
struck  their  colors  to  about  one-fourth  the  number  of  the  heroic 
French  navy.  The  victory  was  mainly  owing  to  the  gallantry 
of  the  celebrated  French  horse-marines,  who  executed  several 
brilliant  charges  under  the  orders  of  the  intrepid  Joinville  ;  and 
though  the  Irish  Brigade,  with  their  ordinary  modesty,  claimed 
the  honors  of  the  day,  yet,  as  only  three  of  that  nation  were 
present  in  the  action,  impartial  history  must  award  the  palm  to 
the  intrepid  sons  of  Gaul. 

With  so  numerous  a  family  quartered  on  the  nation,  the 
solicitude  of  the  admirable  King  may  be  conceived,  lest  a  rev- 
olution should  ensue,  and  fling  them  on  the  world  once  more. 
How  could  he  support  so  numerous  a  family  t  Considerable 
as  his  wealth  was,  (for  he  was  known  to  have  amassed  about  a 
hundred  and  thirteen  billions,  which  were  lying  in  the  caves  of 
the  Tuileries,)  yet  such  a  sum  was  quite  insignificant  when  di- 
vided among  his  f)rogeny  ;  and,  besides,  he  naturally  preferred 
getting  from  the  nation  as  much  as  his  faithful  people  could 
possibly  afford. 

Seeing  the  imminency  of  the  danger,  and  that  money,  well 


336  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

applied,  is  often  more  efficacious  than  the  conqueror's  sword, 
the  King's  Ministers  were  anxious  that  he  should  devote  a  part 
of  his  savings  to  the  carrying  on  of  the  war.  But,  with  the 
cautiousness  of  age,  the  monarch  declined  this  offer ;  he  pre- 
ferred, he  said,  throwing  himself  upon  his  faithful  people,  who, 
he  was  sure,  would  meet,  as  became  them,  the  coming  exigency. 
The  Chambers  met  his  appeal  with  their  usual  devotion.  At  a 
solemn  convocation  of  those  legislative  bodies,  the  King,  sur- 
rounded by  his  family,  explained  the  circumstances  and  the 
danger.  His  Majesty,  his  family,  his  Ministers,  and  the  two 
Chambers,  then  burst  into  tears,  according  to  immemorial 
usage,  and  raising  their  hands  to  the  ceiling,  swore  eternal 
fidelity  to  the  dynasty  and  to  France,  and  embraced  each  other 
affectingly  all  round. 

It  need  not  be  said  that  in  the  course  of  that  evening  two 
hundred  Deputies  of  the  Left  left  Paris,  and  joined  the  Prince 
John  Thomas  Napoleon,  who  was  now  advanced  as  far  as 
Dijon :  two  hundred  and  fifty-three  (of  the  Right,  the  Centre, 
and  Round  the  Corner,)  similarly  quitted  the  capital  to  pay 
their  homage  to  the  Duke  of  Bordeaux.  They  were  followed, 
according  to  their  several  political  predilections,  by  the  various 
Ministers  and  dignitaries  of  State.  The  only  Minister  who 
remained  in  Paris  was  Marshal  Thiers,  Prince  of  Waterloo  (he 
had  defeated  the  English  in  the  very  field  where  they  had 
obtained  formerly  a  success,  though  the  victory  was  as  usual 
claimed  by  the  Irish  Brigade) ;  but  age  had  ruined  the  health 
and  diminished  the  immense  strength  of  that  gigantic  leader, 
and  it  is  said  his  only  reason  for  remaining  in  Paris  was  because 
a  fit  of  the  gout  kept  him  in  bed. 

The  capital  was  entirely  tranquil.  The  theatres  and  cafes 
were  open  as  usual,  and  the  masked  balls  attended  with  great 
enthusiasm  :  confiding  in  their  hundred  and  twenty-four  forts, 
the  light-minded  people  had  nothing  to  fear. 

Except  in  the  way  of  money,  the  King  left  nothing  undone 
to  conciliate  his  people.  He  even  went  among  them  with  his 
umbrella  ;  but  they  were  little  touched  with  that  mark  of  confi* 
dence.  He  shook  hands  with  everybody  ;  he  distributed  crosses 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor  in  such  multitudes,  that  red  ribbon 
rose  two  hundred  per  cent,  in  the  market  (by  which  his  Majesty, 
who  speculated  in  the  article,  cleared  a  tolerable  sum  of  money). 
But  these  blandishments  and  honors  had  little  effect  upon  an 
apathetic  people ;  and  the  enemy  of  the  Orleans  dynasty,  the 
fashionable  young  nobles  of  the  Henriquinquiste  party,  wore 
gloves  perpetually,  for  fear  (they  said)  that   they  should  be 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


337 


obliged  to  shake  hands  with  the  best  of  kings  ;  while  the 
Republicans  adopted  coats  without  button-holes,  lesfr  they 
should  be  forced  to  hang  red  ribbons  in  them.  The  funds  did 
not  fluctuate  in  the  least. 

The  proclamations  of  the  several  pretenders  had  had  their 
effect.  The  young  men  of  the  schools  and  the  estaminets 
(celebrated  places  of  public  education)  allured  by  the  noble 
words  of  Prince  Napoleon,  "  Liberty,  equality,  war  all  over  the 
world  !  "  flocked  to  his  standard  in  considerable  numbers  :  while 
the  noblesse  naturally  hastened  to  offer  their  allegiance  to  the 
legitimate  descendant  of  Saint  Louis. 

And  truly,  never  was  there  seen  a  more  brilliant  chivalry 
than  that  collected  round  the  gallant  Prince  Henry  !  There 
was  not  a  man  in  his  army  but  had  lackered  boots  and  fresh 
white  kid-gloves  at  morning  and  evening  parade.  The  fantastic 
and  effeminate  but  brave  and  faithful  troops  were  numbered  off 
into  different  legions  :  there  was  the  Fleur-d'Orange  regiment ; 
the  Eau-de-Rose  battalion ;  the  Violet-Pomatum  volunteers  j 
the  Eau-de-Cologne  cavalry — according  to  the  different  scents 
which  they  affected.  Most  of  the  warriors  wore  lace  ruffles  ; 
all  powder  and  pigtails,  as  in  the  real  days  of  chivalry.  A 
band  of  heavy  dragoons  under  the  command  of  Count  Alfred 
de  Horsay  made  themselves  conspicuous  for  their  discipline, 
cruelty,  and  the  admirable  cut  of  their  coats  ;  and  with  these 
celebrated  horsemen  came  from  England  the  illustrious  Duke 
of  Jenkins  with  his  superb  footmen.  They  were  all  six  feet 
high.  They  all  wore  bouquets  of  the  richest  flowers  :  they  wore 
bags,  their  hair  slightly  powdered,  brilliant  shoulder-knots,  and 
cocked-hats  laced  with  gold.  They  wore  the  tight  knee- 
pantaloon  of  velveteen  peculiar  to  this  portion  of  the  British 
infantry ;  and  their  legs  were  so  superb,  that  the  Duke  of  Bor- 
deaux, embracing  with  tears  their  admirable  leader  on  parade, 
said,  "Jenkins,  France  never  saw  such  calves  until  now."  The 
weapon  of  this  tremendous  militia  was  an  immense  club,  or 
cane,  reaching  from  the  sole  of  the  foot,  to  the  nose,  and  heavily 
mounted  with  gold.  Nothing  could  stand  before  this  terrific 
weapon,  and  the  breastplates  and  plumed  morions  of  the 
French  cuirassiers  would  have  been  undoubtedly  crushed 
beneath  them,  had  they  ever  met  in  mortal  combat.  Between 
this  part  of  the  Prince's  forces  and  the  Irish  auxiliaries  there 
was  a  deadly  animosit}'-.  Alas,  there  always  is  such  in  camps  1 
The  sons  of  Albion  had  not  forgotten  the  day  when  the  children 
of  Erin  had  been  subject  to  their  devastating  sway. 

The  uniform  of  the  fitter  was  various — the  rich  stuff  called 


338  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

corps-diM'oy  (worn  by  Cceur  de  Lion  at  Agincourt)  formed  their 
lower  habiliments  for  the  most  part :  the  national  frieze  * 
yielded  them  tailcoats.  The  latter  were  generally  torn  in  a 
fantastic  manner  at  the  elbows,  skirts,  and  collars,  and  fastened 
with  every  variety  of  button,  tape,  and  string.  Their  weapons 
fwere  the  caubeen,  the  alpeen,  and  the  doodeen  of  the  country 
— the  latter  a  short  but  dreadful  weapon  of  offence.  At  the 
demise  of  the  venerable  Theobald  Mathew,  the  nation  had  laid 
aside  its  habit  of  temperance,  and  universal  intoxication  be- 
tokened their  grief  ;  it  became  afterwards  their  constant  habit. 
Thus  do  men  ever  return  to  the  haunts  of  their  childhood  ;  such 
a  power  has  fond  memory  over  us  !  The  leaders  of  this  host 
seem  to  have  been,  however,  an  effeminate  race  ;  they  are 
represented  by  contemporary  historians  as  being  passionately 
fond  oi  fly VI g  kites.  Others  say  they  went  into  battle  armed 
with  "  bills,"  no  doubt  rude  weapons  ;  for  it  is  stated  that 
foreigners  could  never  be  got  to  accept  them  in  lieu  of  their 
own  arms.  The  Princes  of  Mayo,  Donegal,  and  Connemara, 
marched  by  the  side  of  their  young  and  royal  chieftain,  the 
Prince  of  Ballybunion,  fourth  son  of  Daniel  the  First,  King  of 
the  Emerald  Isle. 

Two  hosts  then,  one  under  the  Eagles,  and  surrounded  by 
the  republican  imperialists,  the  other  under  the  antique  French 
Lilies,  were  marching  on  the  French  capital.  The  Duke  of 
Brittany,  too,  confined  in  the  lunatic  asylum  of  Charenton, 
found  means  to  issue  a  protest  against  his  captivity,  which 
caused  only  derision  in  the  capital.  Such  was  the  state  of  the 
empire,  and  such  the  clouds  that  were  gathering  round  the  Sun 
of  Orleans  1 


Chapter  IV. 

THE    BATTLE     OF     RHEIMS. 


It  was  not  the  first  time  that  the  King  had  had  to  undergo 
misfortunes  ;  and  now,  as  then,  he  met  them  like  a  man.  The 
Prince  of  Joinville  was  not  successful  in  his  campaign  against 
the  Imperial  Pretender :  and  that  bravery  which  had  put  the 
British  fleet  to  flight,  was  found,  as  might  be  expected,  insufii- 

■*  Were  tliese  in  any  way  lelaled  to  the  Chevaux-de-JrUe  on  which  the  French  Cavalry 
ivcre  mounted  ? 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


539 


cient  against  the  irresistible  courage  of  native  Frenchmen. 
The  Horse  Marines,  not  being  on  their  own  element,  could  not 
act  with  their  usual  effect.  Accustomed  to  the  tumult  of  the 
swelHng  seas,  they  were  easily  unsaddled  on  terra  Jinna  and  in 
the  champagne  countr}'.  • 

It  was  literally  in  the  Champagne  country  that  the  meeting 
between  the  troops  under  Joinville  and  Prince  Napoleon  took 
place  !  for  both  armies  had  reached  Rheims,  and  a  terrific 
battle  was  fought  underneath  the  walls.  For  sometime  nothing 
could  dislodge  the  army  of  Joinville,  entrenched  in  the  cham- 
pagne cellars  of  Messrs.  Ruinart,  Moet,  and  others ;  but 
making  too  free  with  the  fascinating  liquor,  the  army  at  length 
became  entirely  drunk  :  on  wdiich  the  Imperialists,  rushing  into 
the  cellars,  had  an  easy  victory  over  them;  and,  this  done, 
proceeded  to  intoxicate  themselves -likewise. 

The  Prince  of  Joinville,  seeing  the  deroiite  of  his  troops, 
was  compelled  with  a  few  faithful  followers  to  fly  towards  Paris, 
and  Prince  Napoleon  remained  master  of  the  field  of  battle. 
It  is  needless  to  recapitulate  the  bulletin  which  he  published 
the  day  after  the  occasion,  so  soon  as  he  and  his  secretaries 
were  in  a  condition  to  write :  eagles,  pyramids,  rainbows,  the 
sun  of  Austerlitz,  &c.,  figured  in  the  proclamation,  in  close  im- 
itation of  his  illustrious  uncle.  But  the  great  benefit  of  the 
action  was  this :  on  arousing  from  their  intoxication,  the  late 
soldiers  of  Joinville  kissed  and  embraced  their  comrades  of  the 
Imperial  army,  and  made  common  cause  with  them. 

"  Soldiers !  "  said  the  Prince,  on  reviewing  them  the  second 
day  after  the  action,  "  the  Cock  is  a  gallant  bird  ;  but  he  makes 
way  for  the  Eagle  !  Your  colors  are  not  changed.  Ours  floated 
on  the  walls  of  Moscow — yours  on  the  ramparts  of  Constantine  ; 
both  are  glorious.  Soldiers  of  Joinville  !  we  give  you  welcome, 
as  we  would  welcome  your  illustrious  leader,  who  destroyed  the 
fleets  of  Albion,  Let  him  join  us !  We  will  march  together 
against  that  perfidious  enemy. 

"  But,  Soldiers  !  intoxication  dimmed  the  laurels  of  yester- 
day's glorious  day  !  Let  us  drink  no  more  of  the  fascinating 
liquors  of  our  native  Champagne.  Let  us  remember  Hannibal 
and  Capua  ;  and,  before  we  plunge  into  dissipation,  that  we 
have  Rome  still  to  conquer! 

"Soldiers!  Seltzer-water  is  good  after  too  much  drink. 
Wait  awhile,  and  your  Emperor  will  lead  you  into  a  Seltzer- 
water  country.     Frenchmen  !  it  lies  beyAnd  the  Rhine  !  " 

Deafening  shouts  of  "  F/e'^ /'^w/<?r<:'«r/"  saluted  this  allu- 
sion of  the  Prince,  and  the  army  knew  that  their  natural  boun- 


340 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


dary  should  be  restored  to  them.  The  compliments  to  the 
gallantry  of  the  Prince  of  Joinville  likewise  won  all  hearts,  and 
hnmensely  advanced  the  Prince's  cause.  The  jfournal  des 
Dchats  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn.  In  one  paragraph  it 
called  the  Eif^peror  "  a  sanguinary  tyrant,  murderer,  and  pick- 
pocket ;  "  in  a  second  it  owned  he  was  "  a  magnanimous  rebel, 
and  worthy  of  forgiveness  ;  "  and,  after  proclaiming  "  the  bril- 
liant victory  of  the  Prince  of  Joinville,"  presently  denominated 
it  a  '■'■fiinesie  jonriiee." 

The  next  day  the  Emperor,  as  we  may  now  call  him,  was 
about  to  march  on  Paris,  when  Messrs.  Ruinart  and  Moet  were 
presented,  and  requested  to  be  paid  for  300,000  bottles  of  wine, 
"  Send  three  hundred  thousand  more  to  the  Tuileries,"  said  the 
Prince,  sternly  :  "  our  soldiers  will  be  thirsty  when  they  reach 
Paris."  And  taking  Moet  with  him  as  a  hostage,  and  promis- 
ing Ruinart  that  he  would  have  him  shot  unless  he  obeyed, 
with  trumpets  playing  and  eagles  glancing  in  the  sun,  the 
gallant  Imperial  array  marched  on  their  triumphant  way. 


Chapter  V. 

THE   BATTLE   OF   TOURS. 


We  have  now  to  record  the  expedition  of  the  Prince  of 
Nemours  against  his  advancing  cousin,  Henry  V,  His  Royal 
Highness  could  not  march  against  the  enemy  with  such  a  force 
as  he  would  have  desired  to  bring  against  them  ;  for  his  royal 
father,  wisely  remembering  the  vast  amount  of  property  he  had 
stowed  away  under  the  Tuileries,  refused  to  allow  a  single 
soldier  to  quit  the  forts  round  the  capital,  which  thus  was  de- 
fended by  one  hundred  and  forty-four  thousand  guns  (eight}^- 
fuur-pounders),  and  four  hundred  and  thirty-two  thousand 
men  : — little  enough,  when  one  considers  that  there  were  but 
three  men  to  a  gun.  To  provision  this  immense  army,  and  a 
population  of  double  the  amount  within  the  walls,  his  Majesty 
caused  the  country  to  be  scoured  for  fifty  miles  round,  and  left 
neither  ox,  nor  ass,  nor  blade  of  grass.  When  appealed  to  by 
the  inhabitants  of  the  plundered  district,  the  royal  Philip  re- 
plied, with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  his  heart  bled  for  them — that 
they  were  his  children — that  every  cow  taken  from  the  meanest 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


341 


peasant  was  like  a  limb  torn  from  his  own  body  ;  but  that  duty 
must  be  done,  that  the  interests  of  the  country  demanded  the 
sacrifice,  and  that  in  fact  they  might  go  to  the  deuce.  This 
the  unfortunate  creatures  certainly  did. 

The  theatres  went  on  as  usual  within  the  walls.  The 
younials  dcs  Debats  stated  every  day  that  the  pretenders  were 
taken  :  the  Chambers  sat — such  as  remained — and  talked  im- 
mensely about  honor,  dignity,  and  the  glorious  revolution  of 
July ;  and  the  King,  as  his  power  was  now  pretty  nigh  absolute 
over  them,  thought  this  a  good  opportunity  to  bring  in  a  bill 
for  doubling  his  children's  allowance  all  round. 

Meanwhile  the  Duke  of  Nemours  proceeded  on  his  march  ; 
and  as  there  was  nothing  left  within  fifty  miles  of  Paris  where- 
with to  support  his  famished  troops,  it  may  be  imagined  that 
he  was  forced  to  ransack  the  next  fifty  miles  in  order  to  main- 
tain them.  He  did  so.  But  the  troops  were  not  such  as  they 
should  have  been,  considering  the  enemy  with  whom  they  had. 
to  engage. 

The  fact  is,  that  most  of  the  Duke's  army  consisted  of  the 
National  Guard  ;  who,  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm,  and  at  the  cry  of 
"la  patrie  en  danger  "  having  been  induced  to  volunteer,  had 
been  eagerly  accepted  by  his  Majesty,  anxious  to  lessen  as  much 
as  possible  the  number  of  food-consumers  in  his  beleaguered 
capital.  It  is  said  even  that  he  selected  the  most  gormandizing 
battalions  of  the  civic  force  to  send  forth  against  the  enemy,  viz. 
the  grccers,  the  rich  bankers,  the  lawyers,  &c.  Their  parting  with 
their  families  was  very  affecting.  They  would  have  been  very 
willing  to  recall  their  offer  of  marching,  but  companies  of  stern 
veterans  closing  round  them,  marched  them  to  the  city  gates, 
which  were  closed  upon  them  ;  and  thus  perforce  they  were 
compelled  to  move  on.  As  long  as  he  had  a  bottle  of  brandy 
and  a  couple  of  sausages  in  his  holsters,  the  General  of  the 
National  Guard,  Odillon  Barrot,  talked  with  tremendous  cour- 
age. Such  was  the  power  of  his  eloquence  over  the  troops, 
that,  could  he  have  come  up  with  the  enemy  while  his  victuals 
lasted,  the  issue  of  the  combat  might  have  been  very  different. 
But  in  the  course  of  the  first  day's  march  he  finished  both  the 
sausages  and  the  brandy,  and  became  quite  uneasy,  silent,  and 
crest-fallen. 

It  was  on  the  fair  plains  of  Touraine,  by  the  banks  of  silver 
Loire,  that  the  armies  sat  down  before  each  other,  and  the  bat- 
tle was  to  take  place  which  had  such  an  effect  upon  the  for- 
tunes of  France.  'Twas  a  brisk  day  of  March  :  the  practised 
valor  of  Nemours  showed  him  at  once  what  use  to  make  of  the 


34* 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


army  under  his  orders,  and  having  enfiladed  his  National 
Guard  battalions,  and  placed  his  artillery  in  echelons,  he  formed 
his  cavalry  into  hollow  squares  on  the  right  and  left  of  his  line, 
flinging  out  a  cloud  of  howitzers  to  fall  back  upon  the  main 
colunm.  His  veteran  infantry  he  formed  behind  his  National 
Guard — politely  hinting  to  Odillon  Barrot,  who  Vv^ished  to  retire 
under  pretence  of  being  exceedingly  unwell,  that  the  regular 
troops  would  bayonet  the  National  Guard  if  they  gave  way  an 
inch  :  on  which  their  General,  turning  very  pale,  demurely 
went  back  to  his  post.  His  men  were  dreadfully  discouraged ; 
they  had  slept  on  the  ground  all  night ;  they  regretted  their 
homes  and  their  comfortable  nightcaps  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore : 
they  had  luckily  fallen  in  with  a  flock  of  sheep  and  a  drove  of 
oxen  at  Tours  the  day  before  ;  but  what  were  these  compared 
to  the  delicacies  of  Chevet's  or  three  courses  at  Ve'four's  .'' 
They  mournfully  cooked  their  steaks  and  cutlets  on  their  ram- 
rods, and  passed  a  most  wretched  night. 

The  army  of  Henry  was  encamped  opposite  to  them,  for  the 
most  part  in  better  order.  The  noble  cavalry  regiments  found 
a  village  in  which  they  made  themselves  pretty  comfortable, 
Jenkins's  Foot  taking  possession  of  the  kitchens  and  garrets  of 
the  buildings.  The  Irish  Brigade,  accustomed  to  lie  abroad, 
were  quarted  in  son-n  potato-fields,  where  they  sang  Moore's 
melodies  all  night.  There  were,  besides  the  troops  regular  and 
irregular,  about  three  thousand  priests  and  abbes  with  the  army, 
armed  with  scourging-whips,  and  chanting  the  most  lugubrious 
canticles  :  these  reverend  men  were  found  to  be  a  hindrance 
rather  than  otherwise  to  the  operations  of  the  regular  forces. 

It  was  a  touching  sight,  on  the  morning  before  the  battle,  to 
see  the  alacrity  with  which  Jenkins's  regiment  sprung  up  at  the 
first  reveille  of  the  bell,  and  engaged  (the  honest  fellows  !)  in 
offices  almost  menial  for  the  benefit  of  their  French  allies. 
The  Duke  himself  set  the  example,  and  blacked  to  a  nicety  the 
boots  of  Henri.  At  half-past  ten,  after  coffee,  the  brilliant 
warriors  of  the  cavalry  were  ready  ;  their  clarions  rung  to  horse, 
their  banners  were  given  to  the  wind,  their  shirt-collars 
were  exquisitely  starched,  and  the  whole  air  was  scented  with 
the  odors  of  their  pomatums  and  pocket-handkerchiefs. 

Jenkins  had  the  honor  of  holding  the  stirrup  for  Henri. 
"  My  faithful  Duke ! "  said  the  Prince,  pulling  him  by  the 
shoulder-knot,  "  thou  art  always  at  thy  Fost."  "  Here,  as  in 
Wellington  Street,  sire,"  said  the  hero,  blushing.  And  the 
Prince  made  an  appropriate  speech  to  his  chivalry,  in  which 
allusions  to  the  lilies,  St.  Louis,  Bayard  and  Henri  Quatre, 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


343 


were,  as  may  be  imagined,  not  spared.  "  Ho  !  standard-bearer ! " 
the  Prince  concluded,  "  fling  out  my  oriflamme.  Noble  gents 
of  P'rance,  your  King  is  among  you  to-day  !  " 

Then  turning  to  the  Prince  of  Ballybunion,  who  had  been 
drinking  whiskey-punch  all  night  with  the  Princes  of  Donegal 
and  Connemara,  "  Prince,"  he  said,  "  the  Irish  Brigade  Ivas 
won  every  battle  in  the  French  history — we  will  not  deprive  you 
of  the  honor  of  winning  this.  You  will  please  to  commence 
the  attack  with  your  brigade."  Bending  his  head  until  the 
green  plumes  of  his  beaver  mingled  with  the  mane  of  the  Shet- 
land pony  which  he  rode,  the  Prince  of  Ireland  trotted  off  with 
his  aides-de-camp  ;  who  rode  the  same  horses,  powerful  grays, 
with  which  a  dealer  at  Nantz  had  supplied  them  on  their  and 
the  Prince's  joint  bill  at  three  months. 

The  gallant  sons  of  Erin  had  wisely  slept  until  the  last 
minute  in  their  potato-trenches,  but  rose  at  once  at  the  sum- 
mons of  their  beloved  Prince.  Their  toilet  was  the  work  of  a 
moment — a  single  shake  and  it  was  done.  Rapidly  forming 
into  a  line,  they  advanced  headed  by  their  Generals, — who, 
turning  their  steeds  into  a  grass-field,  wisely  determined  to  fight 
on  foot.  Behind  them  came  the  line  of  British  foot  under  the 
illustrious  Jenkins,  who  marched  in  advance  perfectly  collected, 
and  smoking  a  Manilla  cigar.  The  cavalry  were  on  the  right 
and  left  of  the  infantr}'-,  jorepared  to  act  in  pontoon,  in  echelon^ 
or  in  ricochet,  as  occasion  might  demand.  The  Prince  rode 
behind,  supported  by  his  Staff,  who  were  almost  all  of  them 
bishops,  archdeacons,  or  abbes  \  and  the  body  of  ecclesiastics 
followed,  singing  to  the  sound,  or  rather  howl,  of  serpents  and 
trombones,  the  Latin  canticles  of  the  Reverend  Franciscus 
O'Mahony,  lately  canonized  under  the  name  of  Saint  Francis 
of  Cork. 

The  advanced  lines  of  the  two  contending  armies  were  now 
in  presence — the  National  Guard  of  Orleans  and  the  Irish  Bri- 
gade. The  white  belts  and  fat  paunches  of  the  Guard  i^re- 
sented  a  terrific  appearance  ;  but  it  might  have  been  remarked 
by  the  close  observer,  that  their  faces  were  as  white  as  their 
belts,  and  the  long  line  of  their  bayonets  might  be  seen  to 
quiver.  General  Odillon  Barrot,  with  a  cockade  as  large  as  a 
pancake,  endeavored  to  make  a  speech  :  the  words  honneur, 
patric,  Francais,  champ  de  bataille  might  be  distinguished ;  but 
the  General  was  dreadfully  flustered,  and  was  evidently  more 
at  home  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  than  in  the  field  of  war. 

The  Prince  of  Ballybunion,  for  a  wonder,  did  not  make  a 
speech.     "  Boys,"  said  he,  '_'  we've  enough  talking  at  the  Corn 


344 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


Exchange  ;  bating's  the  word  now."  The  Green-Islanders  re- 
plied with  a  tremendous  hurroo,  which  sent  terror  into  the  fat 
bosoms  of  the  French. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  National  Guard,"  said  the  Prince,  tak- 
ing off  his  hat  and  bowing  to  Odillon  BarrOt,  "will  ye  be  so 
igsthramely  obleeging  as  to  fire  first."  This  he  said  because 
it  had  been  said  at  Fontenoy,  but  chiefly  because  his  own  men 
were  only  armed  with  shillelaghs,  and  therefore  could  not  fire. 

But  this  proposal  was  very  unpalatable  to  the  National 
Guardsmen  :  for  though  they  understood  the  musket-exercise 
pretty  well,  firing  was  the  thing  of  all  others  they  detested — 
the  noise,  and  the  kick  of  the  gun,  and  the  smell  of  the  powder 
being  veiy  unpleasant  to  them.  "  We  won't  fire,"  said  Odillon 
Barrot,  turning  round  to  Colonel  Saugrenue  and  his  regiment 
of  the  line — which,  it  may  be  remembered,  was  formed  behind 
the  National  Guard. 

"Then  give  them  the  bayonet,"  said  the  Colonel,  Avith  a 
terrrific  oath.     "  Charge,  corbleu  !  " 

At  this  moment,  and  with  the  most  dreadful  howl  that  ever 
was  heard,  the  National  Guard  was  seen  to  rush  forward  wildly, 
and  with  immense  velocity,  towards  the  foe.  The  fact  is,  that 
the  line  regiment  behind  them,  each  selecting  his  man,  gave 
a  poke  with  his  bayonet  between  the  coat-tails  of  the  Nation- 
als, and  those  troops  bounded  forwards  with  an  irresistible 
swiftness. 

Nothing  could  withstand  the  tremendous  impetus  of  that 
manoeuvre.  The  Irish  Brigade  was  scattered  before  it,  as  chaff 
before  the  wind.  The  Prince  of  Ballybunion  had  barely  time  to 
run  Odillon  Barrot  through  the  body,  when  he  too  was  borne 
away  in  the  swift  route.  They  scattered  tumultuously,  and  fled 
for  twenty  miles  without  stopping.  The  Princes  of  Donegal 
and  Connemara  were  taken  prisoners  ;  but  though  they  offered 
to  give  bills  at  three  months,  and  for  a  hundred  thousand 
pounds,  for  their  ransom,  the  offer  was  refused,  and  they  were 
sent  to  the  rear  ;  when  the  Duke  of  Nemours,  hearing  they 
were  Irish  Generals,  and  that  they  had  been  robbed  of  their 
ready  money  by  his  troops,  who  had  taken  them  prisoners, 
caused  a  comfortable  breakfast  to  be  supplied  to  them,  and 
lent  them  each  a  sum  of  money.  How  generous  are  men  in 
success  ! — the  Prince  of  Orleans  was  charmed  with  the  conduct 
of  his  National  Guards,  and  thought  his  victory  secure.  He 
despatched  a  courier  to  Paris  with  the  brief  words,  *'  We  met 
the  enemy  before  Tours.  The  National  Guard  has  done  its 
duty.     The  troops  of  the  pretender  are  routed.      ViveleRoiP^ 


NEK  T  FRENCHJiE  VOL  UTION.  345 

The  note,  3'ou  may  be  sure,  appeared  in  the  yournal  des  Dehats^ 
and  tlie  editor,  who  only  that  morning  had  called  Henri  V.  "a 
great  pnnce,  an  august  exile,"  denominated  him  instantly  a 
murderer,  slave,  thief  cutthroat,  pickpocket,  and  burglar. 


Chapter  VI. 


THE   ENGLISH    UNDER  JENKINS. 


But  the  Prince  had  not  calculated  that  there  was  a  line  of 
British  infantry  behind  the  routed  Irish  Brigade.  Borne  on 
with  the  hurry  of  the  nielcc,  flushed  with  triumph,  puthng  and 
blowing  with  running,  and  forgetting,  in  the  intoxication  of 
victory,  the  trifling  bayonet-pricks  which  had  impelled  them  to 
the  charge,  the  conquering  National  Guardsmen  found  them- 
selves suddenly  in  the  presence  of  Jenkins's  Foot. 

They  halted  all  in  a  huddle,  like  a  flock  of  sheep. 

"  Upy  Foot,  and  at  thon  f'  were  the  memorable  words  of 
the  Duke  Jenkins,  as,  waving  his  baton,  he  pointed  towards  the 
enemy,  and  with  a  tremendous  shout  the  stalwart  sons  of  Eng- 
land rushed  on  ! — Down  went  plume  and  cocked-hat,  down 
went  corporal  and  captain,  down  went  grocer  and  tailor,  under 
the  long  staves  of  the  indomitable  English  Footmen.  "  A  Jen- 
kins! a  Jenkins!"  roared  the  Duke,  planting  a  blow  which 
broke  the  aquiline  nose  of  Major  Arago,  the  celebrated  astron- 
omer. "St.  George  for  May  Fair!"  shouted  his  followers, 
strewing  the  plain  with  carcases.  Not  a  man  of  the  Guard 
escaped  \  they  fell  like  grass  before  the  mower. 

"  They  are  gallant  troops,  those  yellow-plushed  Anglais," 
said  the  Duke  of  Nemours,  surveying  them  with  his  opera-glass. 
"  'Tis  a  pity  they  will  all  be  cut  up  in  half  an  hour.  Concombrel 
take  your  dragoons,  and  do  it !  "  "  Remember  Waterloo, 
boys  !"  said  Colonel  Concombre,  twirling  his  mustache,  and  a 
thousand  sabres  flashed  in  the  sun,  and  the  gallant  hussars 
prepared  to  attack  the  Englishmen. 

Jenkins,  his  gigantic  form  leaning  on  his  stafif,  and  surveying 
the  havoc  of  the  field,  was  instantly  aware  of  the  enemy's 
manoeuvre.  His  people  were  employed  rifling  the  pockets  of 
the  National  Guard,  and  had  made  a  tolerable  booty,  when  the 
great  Duke,  taking  a  bell  out  of  his  pocket  (it  was  used  foi 


346  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

signals  in  his  battalion  in  place  of  fife  or  bugle),  speedily  called 
his  scattered  warriors  together.  ^'  Take  the  muskets  of  the 
Nationals,"  said  he.  They  did  so.  "  Form  in  square  and  prC' 
pare  to  receive  cavalry  !  "  By  the  time  Concombre's  regiment 
arrived,  he  found  a  square  of  bristling  bayonets  with  Britons 
behind  them  ! 

The  Colonel  did  not  care  to  attempt  to  break  that  tre* 
mendous  body.     "  Halt !  "  said  he  to  his  men.  ^ 

"  Fire  !  "  screamed  Jenkins,  with  eagle  swiftness  ;  but  the 
guns  of  the  National  Guard  not  being  loaded,  did  not  in  con- 
sequence go  off.  The  hussars  gave  a  jeer  of  derision,  but 
nevertheless  did  not  return  to  the  attack,  and  seeing  some  of 
the  Legitimist  cavalry  at  hand,  prepared  to  charge  upon  them. 

The  fate  of  those  carpet  warriors  was  soon  decided.  The 
Milletleur  regiment  broke  before  Concombre's  hussars  instan- 
taneously ;  the  Eau-de-Rose  dragoons  stuck  spurs  into  their 
blood  horses,  and  galloped  far  out  of  reach  of  the  opposing 
cavalry  ;  the  Eau-de-Cologne  lancers  fainted  to  a  inan,  and  the 
regiment  of  Concombre,  pursuing  its  course,  had  actually 
reached  the  Prince  and  his  aides-de-camp,  when  the  clergymen 
coming  up  formed  gallantly  round  the  oriflamme,  and  the 
bassoons  and  serpents  braying  again,  set  up  such  a  shout  of 
canticles,  and  anathemas,  and  excommunications,  that  the 
horses  of  Concombre's  dragoons  in  turn  took  fright,  and  those 
warriors  in  their  turn  broke  and  fled.  As  soon  as  the}'-  turned, 
the  Vende'an  riflemen  fired  amongst  them  and  finished  them  : 
the  gallant  Concombre  fell ;  the  intrepid  though  diminutive 
Cornichon,  his  major,  was  cut  down  ;  Cardon  was  wounded  a 
la  mocllc^  and  the  wife  of  the  fiery  Navet  was  that  day  a  widow. 
Peace  to  the  souls  of  the  brave  !  In  defeat  or  in  victory,  where 
can  the  soldier  find  a  more  fitting  resting-place  than  the  glorious 
field  of  carnage .''  Only  a  few  disorderly  and  dispirited  riders 
of  Concombre's  regiment  reached  Tours  at  night.  They  had 
left  it  but  the  day  before,  a  thousand  disciplined  and  high- 
spirited  men ! 

Knowing  how  irresistible  a  weapon  is  the  bayonet  in  British 
hands,  the  intrepid  Jenkins  determined  to  carry  on  his  advan- 
tage, and  charged  the  Saugrenue  light  infantry  (now  before  him) 
with  cold  steel.  The  Frenchmen  delivered  a  volley,  of  which  a 
shot  took  effect  in  Jenkins's  cockade,  but  did  not  abide  the 
crossing  of  the  weapons.  "  A  Frenchman  dies,  but  never  sur- 
renders," said  Saugrenue,  yielding  up  his  sword,  and  his  whole 
regiment  were  stabbed,  trampled  down,  or  made  prisoners.  The 
blood  of  the  Englishmen  rose  in  the  hot  encounter.     Theix 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


347 


curses  were  horrible  ;  their  courage  tremendous.  "  On  !  on  !  " 
hoarsely  screamed  they;  and  a  second  regiment  met  them  and 
was  crushed,  pounded  in  the  hurthng,  grinding  encounter.  *' A 
Jenkins,  a  Jenkins  !  "  still  roared  the  heroic  Duke  ;  "  St.  George 
for  May  Fair  i  "  The  footmen  of  England  still  yelled  their  ter- 
rilic  battle-cry,  "Hurra,  hurra!"  On  they  went;  regiment  after 
regiment  was  annihilated,  until,  scared  at  the  very  trample  of 
the  advancing  warriors,  the  dismayed  troops  of  France  scream- 
ing fled.  Gathering  his  last  warriors  round  about  him,  Nemours 
determined  to  make  a  last  desperate  effort.  'Twas  vain :  the 
ranks  met ;  the  next  moment  the  truncheon  of  the  Prince  of 
Orleans  was  dashed  from  his  hand  by  the  irresistible  mace  of 
the  Duke  Jenkins  ;  his  horse's  shins  were  broken  by  the  same 
weapon.  Screaming  with  agony  the  animal  fell.  Jenkins's 
hand  was  at  the  Duke's  collar  in  a  moment,  and  had  he  not 
gasped  out,  "Je  me  rends!"  he  would  have  been  throttled  in 
that  dreadful  grasp  ! 

Three  hundred  and  forty-two  standards,  seventy-nine 
regiments,  their  baggage,  ammunition,  and  treasure-chests,  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  victorious  Duke.  He  had  avenged  the 
honor  of  Old  England  ;  and  himself  presenting  the  sword  of 
the  conquered  Nemours  to  Prince  Henri,  who  now  came  up, 
the  Prince,  bursting  into  tears,  fell  on  his  neck  and  said,  "  Duke, 
I  owe  my  crown  to  my  patron  saint  and  you."  It  was  indeed 
a  glorious  victory  :  but  what  will  not  British  valor  attain  ? 

The  Duke  of  Nemours,*having  despatched  a  brief  note  to 
Paris,  saying,  "  Sire,  all  is  lost  except  honor!  "  was  sent  off  in 
confinement ;  and  in  spite  of  the  entreaties  of  his  cai^tor,  was 
hardly  treated  with  decent  politeness.  The  priests  and  the 
noble  regiment  who  rode  back  when  the  afiEair  was  over,  were 
for  having  the  Prince  shot  at  once,  and  murmured  loudly 
against  "cet  Anglais  brutal"  who  interposed  in  behalf  of  his 
prisoner.  '  Henri  V.  granted  the  Prince  his  life  ;  but,  no  doubt 
misguided  by  the  advice  of  his  noble  and  ecclesiastical  coun- 
sellors, treated  the  illustrious  English  Duke  with  marked  cold- 
ness, and  did  not  even  ask  him  to  supper  that  night. 

"  Well !  "  said  Jenkins,  "  I  and  my  merry  men  can  sup  alone." 
And,  indeed,  having  had  the  pick  of  the  plunder  of  about  28,000 
men,  they  had  wherewithal  to  make  themselves  pretty  comfort- 
able. The  prisoners  (25,403)  were  all  without  difficulty  induced 
to  assume  the  white  cockade.  Most  of  them  had  those  marks 
of  loyalty  ready  sewn  in  their  flannel-waistcoats,  where  they 
swore  they  had  worn  them  ever  since  1830.  Tiiis  we  may 
believe,  and  we  will ;  but  the  Prince  Henri  was  too  politic  or 


348  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

too  good-humored  in  the  moment  of  victory,  to  doubt  the  sin- 
cerity of  his  new  subjects'  protestations,  and  received  the 
Colonels  and  Generals  affably  at  his  table. 

The  next  morning  a  proclamation  was  issued  to  the  united 
armies.  "Faithful  soldiers  of  France  and  Navarre,"  said  the 
Prince,  "  the  saints  have  won  for  us  a  great  victory — the  enemies 
of  our  religion  have  been  overcome — the  lilies  are  restored  to 
their  native  soil.  Yesterday  morning  at  eleven  o'clock  the 
army  under  my  command  engaged  that  which  was  led  by  his 
Serene  Highness  the  Duke  de  Nemours.  Our  forces  were  but 
a  third  in  number  when  compared  with  those  of  the  enemy. 
My  faithful  chivalry  and  nobles  made  the  strength,  however, 
equal. 

"The  regiments  of  Fleur-d'Orange,  Millefleur,  and  Eau- 
de-Cologne  covered  themselves  with  glory  ;  they  sabred  many 
thousands  of  the  enemy's  troops.  Their  valor  was  ably  seconded 
by  the  gallantry  of  my  ecclesiastical  friends  :  at  a  moment  of 
danger  they  rallied  round  my  banner,  and  forsaking  the  crozier 
for  the  sword,  showed  that  they  were  of  the  church  militant 
indeed. 

"  My  faithful  Irish  auxiliaries  conducted  themselves  with 
becoming  heroism — but  why  particularize  when  all  did  their 
duty  ?  How  remember  individual  acts  when  all  were  heroes  ?  " 
The  Marshal  of  France,  Sucre  d'Orgeville,  Commander  of  the 
Army  of  H.  M.  Christian  Majesty,  recommended  about  three 
thousand  persons  for  promotion'^  and  the  indignation  of 
Jenkins  and  his  brave  companions  may  be  imagined  when 
it  is  stated  that  they  were  not  even  mentioned  in  the  despatch  ! 

As  for  the'Princes  of  Ballybunion,  Donegal,  and  Connemara, 
they  wrote  off  despatches  to  their  Government,  saying,  "The 
Duke  of  Nemours  is  beaten,  and  a  prisoner !  The  Irish 
Brigade  has  done  it  all  !  "  On  wbich  his  Majesty  the  King  of 
the  Irish,  convoking  his  Parliament  at  the  Corn  Exchange 
Palace,  Dublin,  made  a  speech,  in  which  he  called  Louis 
Philippe  an  "  old  miscreant,"  and  paid  the  highest  compliments 
to  his  son  and  his  troops.  The  King  on  this  occasion  knighted 
Sir  Henry  Sheehan,  Sir  Gavan  Duffy  (whose  journals  had 
published  the  news),  and  was  so  delighted  with  the  valor  of  his 
son,  that  he  despatched  him  his  Order  of  the  Pig  and  Whistle 
(ist  class),  and  a  munificent  present  of  five  hundred  thousand 
pounds — in  a  bill  at  three  months.  All  Dublin  was  illuminated  ; 
and  at  a  ball  at  the  Castle  the  Lord  Chancellor  Smith  (Earl  of 
Smithereens)  getting  extremely  intoxicated,  called  out  the  Lord 
Bishop  of  Galway  (the  Dove),  and  they  fought  in  the  Phoenix 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


349 


Park.  Having  shot  the  Right  Reverend  Bishop  through  the 
body,  Smithereens  apologized.  He  was  the  same  practitioner 
who  had  rendered  himself  so  celebrated  in  the  memorable  trial 
of  the  King — before  the  Act  of  Independence. 

Meanwhile,  the  army  of  Prince  Henri  advanced  with  rapid 
stridest  owards  Paris,  whither  the  History  likewise  must  hasten  ; 
for  extraordinary  were  the  events  preparing  in  that  capital. 


Chapter  VII, 

THE   LEAGUER   OF    PARIS. 


By  a  singular  coincidence,  on  the  very  same  day  when  the 
armies  of  Henri  V.  appeared  before  Paris  from  the  Western 
Road,  those  of  the  Emperor  John  Thomas  Napoleon  arrived 
from  the  North.  Skirmishes  took  place  between  the  advanced- 
guards  of  the  two  parties,  and  much  slaughter  ensued. 

"  Bon  !  "  thought  King  Louis  Philippe,  who  examined  them 
from  his  tower ;  "  they  will  kill  each  other.  This  is  by  far 
the  most  economical  way  of  getting  rid  of  them."  The  astute 
monarch's  calculations  were  admirably  exposed  by  a  clever  re- 
mark of  the  Prince  of  Ballybunion.  "  Faix,  Harry,"  says  he 
(with  a  familiarity  which  the  punctilious  son  of  Saint  Louis 
resented),  "you  and  him  yandther — the  Emperor,  I  mane — are 
like  the  Kilkenny  cats,  dear." 

"  Et  que  font-ils  ces  chats  de  Kilkigny,  Monsieur  le  Prince 
de  Ballybunion  ?  "  asked  the  most  Christian  King  haughtily. 

Prince  Daniel  replied  by  narrating  the  well-known  apologue 
of  the  animals  "  ating  each  other  all  up  but  their  ieels ;  and 
that's  what  you  and  Imparial  Pop  yondther  will  do,  blazing 
away  as  ye  are,"  added  the  jocose  and  royal  boy. 

"  Je  prie  votre  Altesse  Royale  de  vaguer  a  ses  propres  af- 
faires," answered  Prince  Henri  sternly  :  for  he  was  an  enemy 
to  anything  like  a  joke  ;  but  there  is  always  wisdom  in  real 
wit,  and  it  would  have  been  well  for  his  Most  Christian  Maj- 
esty had  he  the  followed  facetious  counsels  of  his  Irish  ally. 

The  fact  is,  the  King,  Henri,  had  an  understanding  with  the 
garrisons  of  some  of  the  forts,  and  expected  all  would  declare 
for  him.  However,  of  the  twenty-four  forts  which  we  have 
described,  eight  only — and  by  the  means  of  Marshal  Soult, 
who  had  grown  extremely  devout  of  late  years — declared  for 


350 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


Henri,  and  raised  the  white  flag  :  while  eight  others,  seeing 
Prince  John  Thomas  Napoleon  before  them  in  the  costume 
of  his  revered  predecessor,  at  once  flung  open  their  gates  to 
him,  and  mounted  the  tricolor  with  the  eagle.  The  remain- 
ing eight,  into  which  the  Princes  of  the  blood  of  Orleans  had 
thrown  themselves,  remained  constant  to  Louis  Philippe. 
Nothing  could  induce  that  Prince  to  quit  the  Tuileries.  His 
money  was  there,  and  he  swore  he  would  remain  by  it.  In 
vain  his  sons  offered  to  bring  him  into  one  of  the  forts — he 
would  not  stir  without  his  treasure.  They  said  they  would 
transport  it  thither;  but  no,  no  :  the  patriarchal  monarch,  put- 
ting his  finger  to  his  aged  nose,  and  winking  archlv,  said,  'he 
knew  a  trick  worth  two  of  that,'  and  resolved  to  abide  by  his 
bags. 

The  theatres  and  cafes  remained  open  as  usual :  the  funds 
rose  three  centimes.  The  yournal  des  Debats  published  three 
editions  of  different  tones  of  politics :  one,  the  yournol  de 
r Empire,  for  the  Napoleonites ;  the  yoiintal  de  la  Legitimite 
another,  very  complimentary  to  the  Legitimate  monarch  ;  and 
finally,  the  original  edition,  bound  heart  and  soul  to  the  dynas- 
ty of  July.  The  poor  editor,  who  had  to  write  all  three,  com- 
plained not  a  little  that  his  salary  was  not  raised  :  but  the 
truth  is  that,  by  altering  the  names,  one  article  did  indifl"erently 
for  either  paper.  The  Duke  of  Brittany,  under  the  title  of 
Louis  XVII. ^  was  always  issuing  manifestoes  from  Charenton, 
but  of  these  the  Parisians  took  little  heed  :  the  Charivari  pro- 
claimed itself  his  Gazette,  and  was  allowed  to  be  very  witty  at 
the  expense  of  the  three  pretenders. 

As  the  country  had  been  ravaged  for  a  hundred  miles 
round,  the  respective  Princes  of  course  were  for  throwing  them- 
selves into  the  forts,  where  there  was  plenty  of  provision  ; 
and,  when  once  there,  they  speedily  began  to  turn  out  such  of 
the  garrison  as  were  disagreeable  to  them,  or  had  an  incon- 
venient appetite,  or  were  of  a  doubtful  fidelity.  These  poor 
fellows  turned  into  the  road,  had  no  choice  but  starvation  ;  as 
to  getting  into  Paris,  that  was  impossible  :  a  mouse  could  not 
have  got  into  the  place,  so  admirably  were  the  forts  guarded, 
without  having  his  head  taken  off  by  a  cannon-ball.  Thus  the 
three  conflicting  parties  stood,  close  to  each  other,  hating  each 
other,  "willing  to  wound  and  yet  afraid  to  strike  "-—the  vict- 
uals in  the  forts,  from  the  prodigious  increase  of  the  garrisons, 
getting  smaller  every  day.  As  for  Louis  Philippe  in  his  pal- 
ace, in  the  centre  of  the  twenty-four  forts,  knowing  that  a 
spark  from  one   might  set  them  all  blazing  away,  and  that  he 


NEXT  FRENCH  RE  VOL  UTION.  35  ^ 

1  w^   monpvbacrs  mi-ht  be  blown  into  eternity  in  ten  mia- 

T-^1^^^^^  ^  Orkney    a„c.  its 

communications),  P^^P"^  "^  ;';f'  \^  ^l.ieh  proposition  Henri 

::i:,rhr"t:s:'b:^ ",:?  14°  ;ne.s,  £g.<«uy  coun- 
""The p  esence  of  tli  holy  fathers  caused  cons.derable  anoy- 
ance in  \.  forts.  Especially  the  P°°^„,f  ^J'  '  ^^^^jrlnl"  of 
were  subject  to  much  petty  P-=f;;''2s.  be  co"  esse  f  that 
S  i^'tr'^pld  Znu^nt-re  n^so-'ar^^e  to  discipline  as 
S-f. bduS  toSeT'TfrelhrUllX"  , 
f'^^.fSs'oT  „r'e'r:'da;;«a.-candies  iu  the  -eur-ej  aud 
their  porter.    These  demands  were  laughed  at  •  *e  P.tesU  e  en 

-XTXtr  ir  tf^re^lm^  .?.^Snr|e  'rac, 

^  ti^aS^r  ;::^^,^rs.ro"^^;tbU^ty^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
S?S^°^kdttarih^r^^-^.f- 

"'"TL'riince^^BaTlybunion  and  the  Irish  force  were  quar- 

rSst^i^ddi^^^^^^^^ 

:.  :,'?S:  'on;S'tchi„rcS'(with  the  ha,fpe„uy  that  one  of  them 

somehow  had)  for  ^-%^:^:i^°l':T&t^'^^^  ^'-'^ 

Sen  thi^Iume!''  and   so  forth.     But  this  sort  of  mactio. 
rS  It   ast  on--      They  had  heard  of  the  treasures  amassed 
h^te  palace  oTrhe  Tuillrles  :  they  sighed  when  they  thought 
of  tie  lack  of  bullion  in  their  green  and  beautiful  country. 
-^.-..  ...,..r.A  f^r  vvnr  !     Thev  formed  their  plan. 


352  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Chapter  VIII. 

THE   BATTLE   OF   THE    FORTS. 

On  the  morning  of  the  26th  October,  1884,  as  his  Majesty 
Louis  Philippe  was  at  breakfast  reading  the  Debats  newspaper, 
and  wishing  that  what  the  journal  said  about  "  Cholera  Morbus 
in  the  Camp  of  the  Pretender  Henri," — "  Chicken-pox  raging 
in  the  Forts  of  the  Traitor  Bonaparte," — might  be  true,  what 
was  his  surprise  to  hear  the  report  of  a  gun  ;  and  at  the  same 
instant — whizz  !  came  an  eighty-four-pound  ball  through  the 
window  and  took  off  the  head  of  the  faithful  Monsieur  de 
Montalivet,  who  was  coming  in  with  a  plate  of  muffins. 

"  Three  francs  for  the  window,"  said  the  monarch  ;  "  and 
the  muffins  of  course  spoiled  !  "  and  he  sat  down  to  breakfast 
very  peevishly.  Ah,  King  Louis  Philippe,  that  shot  cost  thee 
more  than  a  window-pane — more  than  a  plate  of  muffins — it 
cost  thee  a  fair  kingdom  and  fifty  millions  of  tax-payers. 

The  shot  had  been  fired  from  Fort  Potato.  "  Gracious  heav- 
ens !  "  said  the  commander  of  the  place  to  the  Irish  Prince, 
in  a  fury,  "  What  has  your  Highness  done  ?  "  "  Faix,"  replied 
the  other,  "  Donegal  and  I  saw  a  sparrow  on  the  Tuileries,  and 
we  thought  we'd  have  a  shot  at  it,  that's  all."  "  Hurroo  !  look 
out  for  squalls,"  here  cried  the  intrepid  Hibernian  ;  for  at  this 
moment  one  of  Paixhans'  shells  fell  into  the  counterscarp  of 
the  demi-lune  on  which  they  were  standing,  and  sent  a  ravelin 
and  a  couple  of  embrasures  flying  about  their  ears. 

Fort  Twenty-three,  which  held  out  for  Louis  Philippe,  see- 
ing Fort  Twenty-four,  or  Potato,  open  a  fire  on  the  Tuileries, 
histantly  replied  by  its  guns,  with  which  it  blazed  away  at  the 
Bourbonite  fort.  On  seeing  this.  Fort  Twenty-two,  occupied  by 
the  Imperialists,  began  pummelling  Twenty-three  ;  Twenty-one 
began  at  Twenty-two  ;  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  whole 
of  this  vast  line  of  fortification  was  in  a  blaze  of  flame,  flash- 
ing, roaring,  cannonading,  rocketing,  bombing,  in  the  most  tre-- 
mendous  manner.  The  world  has  never  perhaps,  before'  or 
since,  heard  such  an  uproar.  Fancy  twenty-four  thousand  guns 
thundering  at  each  other.  Fancy  the  sky  red  with  the  fires  of 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  blazing,  brazen  meteors  ;  the  air 
thick  with  impenetrable  smoke — the  universe  almost  in  aflame  1 
for  the  noise  of  the  cannonading  was  heard  on  the  peaks  of  the 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


353 


Andes,  and  broke  three  windows  in  the  English  factory  at  Can- 
ton. Boom,  boom,  boom  !  for  three  days  incessantly  the  gigan- 
tic— I  may  say,  Cyclopean  battle  went  on  :  boom,  boom,  boom, 
bong!  The  air  was  thick  with  cannon-balls  :  they  hurtled,  they 
jostled  each  other  in  the  heavens,  and  fell  whizzing,  whirling, 
crashing,  back  into  the  very  forts  from  which  they  came.  Boom, 
boom,  boom,  bong — brrwrrwrrr  ! 

On  the  second  day  a  band  might  have  been  seen  (had  the 
smoke  permitted  it)  assembling  at  the  sally-port  of  Fort  Potato, 
and  have  been  heard  (if  the  tremendous  clang  of  the  cannonad- 
ing had  allowed  it)  giving  mysterious  signs  and  countersigns. 
"  Tom,"  was  the  word  whispered,  "  Steele  "  was  the  sibilated 
response.  (It  is  astonishing  how,  in  the  roar  of  elements,  the 
hii7nan  whispci'  hisses  above  all !)  It  was  the  Irish  Brigade 
assembling.  "  Now  or  never,  boys  !  "  said  their  leaders ; 
and  sticking  their  doodeens  into  their  mouths,  they  dropped 
stealthily  into  the  trenches,  heedless  of  the  broken  glass  and 
swordblades  ;  rose  from  those  trenches  ;  formed  in  silent  or- 
der j  and  marched  to  Paris.  They  knew  they  could  arrive 
there  unobserved — nobody,  indeed,  remarked  their  absence. 

The  frivolous  Parisians  were,  in  the  mean  while,  amusing 
themselves  at  their  theatres  and  cafe's  as  usual ;  and  a  new  piece, 
in  which  Arnal  performed,  was  the  uni\'ersal  talk  of  the  foyers  -. 
while  a  ne'w  fcui/Ielon  by  Monsieur  Eugene  Sue,  kept  the  atten- 
tion of  the  reader  so  fascinated  to  the  journal,  that  they  did 
not  care  in  the  least  for  the  vacarme  without  the  walls. 


Chapter  IX. 

LOUIS   XVII. 


The  tremendous  cannonading,  however,  had  a  singular 
effect  upon  the  inhabitants  of  the  great  public  hospital  of 
Charenton,  in  wtiich  it  may  be  remembered  Louis  XVII.  had 
been,  as  in  mockery,  confined.  His  majesty  of  demeanor,  his 
calm  deportment,  the  reasonableness  of  his  pretensions,  had 
not  failed  to  strike  with  awe  and  respect  his  four  thousand  com- 
rades of  captivity.  The  Emperor  of  China,  the  Princess  of 
the  Moon,  Julius  Ca;sar,  Saint  Genevieve,  the  patron  saint  of 
''aris,  the  Pope  of  Rome,  the  Cacique  of  Mexico   and  several 


354 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


singular  and  illustrious  personages  who  happened  to  be  con^ 
fined  there,  all  held  a  council  with  Louis  XVII. ;  and  all  agreed 
that  now  or  never  was  the  time  to  support  his  legitimate  pre- 
tensions to  the  Crown  of  France.  As  the  cannons  roared 
around  them,  they  howled  with  furious  delight  in  response. 
They  took  counsel  together :  Doctor  Pinel  and  the  infamous 
jailers,  who,  under  the  name  of  keepers,  held  them  in  horrible 
captivity,  were  pounced  upon  and  overcome  in  a  twinkling. 
The  strait-waistcoats  were  taken  off  from  the  wretched  captives 
languishing  in  the  dungeons  ;  the  guardians  were  invested  in 
these  shameful  garments,  and  with  triumphant  laughter  plunged 
under  the  Douches.  The  gates  of  the  prison  were  flung  open, 
and  they  marched  forth  in  the  blackness  of  the  storm  ! 

TV  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

On  the  third  day,  the  cannonading  was  observed  to  decrease  \ 

only  a  gun  went  off  fitfully  now  and  then. 

#  #  *  *  * 

On  the  fourth  day,  the  Parisians  said  to  one  another, 
"Tiens!  ils  sont  fatigues,  les  cannoniers  des  forts!"  —  and 
why  ?  Because  there  was  no  more  powder  ? — Ay,  truly,  there 
was  no  more  powder. 

There  was  no  more  powder,  no  more  guns,  no  more  gunners, 
no  more  forts,  no  more  nothing.  The  forts  had  bloiuii  each  other 
np.  The  battle-roar  ceased.  The  battle-clouds  rolled  off.  The 
silver  moon,  the  twinkling  stars,  looked  blandly  down  from  the 
serene  azure, — and  all  was  peace — stillness — the  stillness  of 
death.     Holy,  holy  silence  ! 

Yes  :  the  battle  of  Paris  was  over.  And  where  were  the 
combatants  .'  All  gone — not  one  left  1 — And  where  was  Louis 
Philippe  ?  The  venerable  Prince  was  a  cajDtive  in  the  Tuile- 
ries  ;  the  Irish  Brigade  was  encamped  around  it :  they  had 
reached  the  palace  a  little  too  late  ;  it  was  already  occupied  by 
the  partisans  of  his  Majesty  Louis  XVII. 

That  respectable  monarch  and  his  followers  better  knew  the 
way  to  the  Tuileries  than  the  ignorant  sons  of  Erin.  They 
burst  through  the  feeble  barriers  of  the  guards ;  they  rushed 
triumphant  into  the  kingly  halls  of  the  palace  ;  they  seated  the 
seventeenth  Louis  on  the  throne  of  his  ancestors  ;  and  the 
Parisians  read  in  the  journal  des  Debats,  of  the  fifth  of  Novem- 
ber, an  important  article,  which  proclaimed  that  the  civil  w^ar 
was  concluded  : — 

"  The  troubles  which  distracted  the  greatest  empire  in  the 
world  are  at  an  end.  Europe,  which  marked  with  sorrow  the 
disturbances  which  agitated  the  bosom  of  the  Queen  of  Nations, 


NEXT  FRENCH  RE  VOL  UTION.  355 

the  great  leader  of  Civilization,  may  now  rest  in  peace.  That 
monarch  whom  we  have  long  been  sighing  for  ;  whose  image 
has  lain  hidden,  and  yet  oh  !  how  passionately  worshipped,  in 
every  French  heart,  is  with  us  once  more.  Blessings  be  on 
him  ;  blessings — a  thousand  blessings  upon  the  happy  country 
which  is  at  length  restored  to  his  beneficent,  his  legitimate,  his 
reasonable  sway ! 

"  His  Most  Christian  Majesty  Louis  XVII.  yesterday 
arrived  at  his  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  accompanied  by  his 
august  allies.  His  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of  Orleans  has 
resigned  his  post  as  Lieutenant-General  of  the  kingdom,  and 
will  return  speedily  to  take  up  his  abode  at  the  Palais  Royal. 
It  is  a  great  mercy  that  the  children  of  his  Royal  Highness, 
who  happened  to  be  in  the  late  forts  round  Paris  (before  the 
bombardment  which  has  so  happily  ended  in  their  destruction), 
had  returned  to  their  father  before  the  commencement  of  the 
cannonading.  They  will  continue,  as  heretofore,  to  be  the 
most  loyal  supporters  of  order  and  the  throne. 

"  None  can  read  without  tears  in  their  eyes  our  august 
monarch's  proclamation. 

"  '  Louis,  by,  &c.— 

"  '  My  children  !  After  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  years 
of  captivity,  I  am  restored  to  you.  The  cycle  of  events  pre- 
dicted by  the  ancient  Magi,  and  the  planetary  convolutions 
mentioned  in  the  lost  Sibylline  books,  have  fulfilled  their 
respective  idiosyncrasies,  and  ended  (as  always  in  the  depths 
of  my  dungeons  I  confidently  expected)  in  the  triumph  of  the 
good  Angel,  and  the  utter  discomfiture  of  the  abominable  Blue 
Dragon. 

"  '  When  the  bombarding  began,  and  the  powers  of  darkness 
commenced  their  hellish  gunpowder  evolutions,  I  was  close  by 
-—in  my  palace  of  Charenton,  three  hundred  and  thirty-three 
thousand  miles  off,  in  the  ring  of  Saturn — I  witnessed  youi 
misery.  My  heart  was  affected  by  it,  and  I  said,  "  Is  the  mul- 
tiplication-table a  fiction  ?  are  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac  mere 
astronomers'  prattle  ?  " 

" '  I  clapped  chains,  shrieking  and  darkness,  on  my  physi- 
cian. Dr.  Pinel.  The  keepers  I  shall  cause  to  be  roasted  alive. 
I  summoned  my  allies  round  about  me.  The  high  contracting 
Powers  came  to  my  bidding  :  monarchs  from  all  parts  of  the 
earth  ;  sovereigns  from  the  Moon  and  other  illumined  orbits  ; 
the  white  necromancers,  and  the  pale  imprisoned  genii.  I 
whispered  the  mystic  sign,  and  the  doors  flew  open.  We 
entered  Paris  in  triumph,  by  the  Charenton  bridge.     Our  lug- 


356  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

gage  was  not  examined  at  the  Octroi.  The  bottle-green  ones 
were  scared  at  our  shouts,  and  retreated,  howling :  they  knew 
us,  and  trembled. 

"  '  My  faithful  Peers  and  Deputies  will  rally  round  me.  I 
have  a  friend  in  Turkey — the  Grand  Vizier  of  the  Mussulmans  : 
he  was  a  Protestant  once — Lord  Brougham  by  name.  I  have 
sent  to  him  to  legislate  for  us  :  he  is  wise  in  the  law,  and 
astrology,  and  all  sciences  ;  he  shall  aid  my  Ministers  in  their 
councils.  I  have  written  to  him  by  the  post.  There  shall  be 
no  more  infamous  mad-houses  in  France,  where  poor  souls 
shiver  in  strait-waistcoats. 

"  '  I  recognized  Louis  Philippe,  my  good  cousin.  He  was 
in  his  counting-house,  counting  out  his  money,  as  the  old 
prophecy  warned  me.  He  gave  me  up  the  keys  of  his  gold  ; 
I  shall  know  well  how  to  use  it.  Taught  by  adversity,  I  am  not 
a  spendthrift,  neither  am  I  a  miser.  I  will  endow  the  land 
with  noble  institutions  instead  of  diabolical  forts.  I  will  have 
no  more  cannon  founded.  They  are  a  curse,  and  shall  be 
melted — the  iron  ones  into  railroads  ;  the  bronze  ones  into 
statues  of  beautiful  saints,  angels,  and  wise  men ;  the  copper 
ones  into  money,  to  be  distributed  among  my  poor.  I  was  poor 
once,  and  I  love  them. 

'*  There  shall  be  no  more  poverty  ;  no  more  wars  ;  no  more 
avarice  ;  no  more  passports  ;  no  more  custom-houses ;  no  more 
lying  :  no  more  physic. 

"  *  My  Chambers  will  put  the  seal  to  these  reforms.  I  will 
it.     I  am  the  king. 

(Signed)         *  Louis.'  " 


"  Some  alarm  was  created  yesterday  by  the  arrival  of  a  body 
of  the  English  Foot-Guard  under  the  Duke  of  Jenkins ;  they 
were  at  first  about  to  sack  the  city,  but  on  hearing  that  the 
banner  of  the  lilies  was  once  more  raised  in  France,  the  Duke 
hastened  to  the  Tuileries,  and  offered  his  allegiance  to  his 
Majesty.  It  was  accepted  :  and  the  Plush  Guard  has  been 
established  in  place  of  the  Swiss,  who  waited  on  former  sov- 
ereigns." 


'•  The  Irish  Brigade  quartered  in  the  Tuileries  are  to  enter 
our  service.  Their  commander  states  that  they  took  every  one 
of  the  forts  round  Paris,  and  having  blown  them  up,  were  pro- 
ceeding to  release  Louis  XVII.,  when  they  found  that  august 
monarch,   happily,  free.     News  o£  their  glorious  victory  has 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 


357 


been  conveyed  to  Dublin,  to  his  Majesty  the  King  of  the  Irish. 
It  will  be  a  new  laurel  to  add  to  his  green  crown  !  " 

And  thus  have  we  brought  to  a  conclusion  our  history  of 
the  great  French  Revolution  of  1S84.  It  records  the  actions 
of  great  and  various  characters  ;  the  deeds  of  various  valor  :  it 
narrates  wonderful  reverses  of  fortune  ;  it  affords  the  moralist 
scope  for  his  philosophy  ;  perhaps  it  gives  amusement  to  the 
merely  idle  reader.  Nor  must  the  latter  imagine,  because  there 
is  not  a  precise  moral  affixed  to  the  story,  that  its  tendency  is 
otherwise  than  good.  He  is  a  poor  reader,  for  whom  his 
author  is  obliged  to  supply  a  moral  application.  It  is  well  in 
spelling-books  and  for  children  ;  it  is  needless  for  the  reflect- 
ing spirit.  The  drama  of  Punch  himself  is  not  moral  :  but  that 
drama  has  had  audiences  all  over  the  world.  Happy  he,  who 
in  our  dark  times  can  cause  a  smile  !  Let  us  laugh  then,  and 
gladden  in  the  sunshine,  though  it  be  but  as  the  ray  upon  the 
pool,  that  flickers  only  over  the  cold  black  depths  below  ! 


COX'S    DIARY. 


COX'S    DIARY, 


THE  ANNOUNCEMENT. 

On  the  ist  of  January,  1838,  I  was  the  master  of  a  lovely 
shop  in  the  neighborhood  of  Oxford  Market ;  of  a  wife,  Mrs. 
Cox  ;  of  a  business,  both  in  the  shaving  and  cutting  line,  estab- 
lished three-and-thirty  years  ;  of  a  girl  and  boy  respectively  of 
the  ages  of  eighteen  and  thirteen  ;  of  a  three-windowed  front, 
both  to  my  first  and  second  pair ;  of  a  young  foreman,  my 
present  partner,  Mr.  Orlando  Crump  ;  and  of  that  celebrated 
mixture  for  the  human  hair,  invented  by  my  late  uncle,  and 
called  Cox's  Bohemian  Balsam  of  Tokay,  sold  in  pots  at  two- 
and-three  and  three-and-nine.  The  balsam,  the  lodgings,  and 
the  old-established  cutting  and  shaving  business  brought  me  in 
a  pretty  genteel  income.  I  had  my  girl,  Jemimarann,  at  Hack- 
ney, to  school ;  my  dear  boy,  Tuggeridge,  plaited  her  hair 
beautifully  ;  my  wife  at  the  counter  (behind  the  tray  of  patent 
soaps,  &c.)  cut  as  handsome  a  figure  as  possible ;  and  it  was 
my  hope  that  Orlando  and  my  girl,  who  were  mighty  soft  upon 
one  another,  would  one  day  be  joined  together  in  Hyming, 
and,  conjointly  with  my  son  Tug,  carry  on  the  business  of  hair- 
dressers when  their  father  was  either  dead  or  a  gentleman  :  for 
a  gentleman  me  and  Mrs.  C.  determined  I  should  be. 

Jemima  was,  you  see,  a  lady  herself,  and  of  very  high  con- 
nections :  though  her  own  family  had  met  with  crosses,  and 
was  rather  low.  Mr.  Tuggeridge,  her  father,  kept  the  famous 
tripe-shop  near  the  "  Pigtail  and  Sparrow,"  in  the  Whitechapel 
Road;  from  which  place  I  married  her;  being  myself  very 
fond  of  the  article,  and  especially  when  she  served  it  to  me — ■ 
the  dear  thing  ! 

Jemima's  father  was  not  successful  in  business  :  and  I  mar- 
ried her,  I  am  proud  t©  confess  it,  without  a  shilling.     I  had 


362  COX'S  DIARY. 

my  hands,  my  house,  and  my  Bohemian  balsam  to  support  her! 
— and  we  had  hopes  from  her  uncle,  a  mighty  rich  East  India 
merchant,  Avho,  having  left  this  country  sixty  years  ago  as  a 
cabin-boy,  had  arrived  to  be  the  head  of  a  great  house  in 
India,  and  was  worth  millions,  we  were  told. 

Three  years  after  Jemimarann's  birth  (and  two  after  the 
death  of  my  lamented  father-in-law),  Tuggeridge  (head  of  the 
great  house  of  Budgurow  and  Co.)  retired  from  the  manage- 
ment of  it ;  handed  over  his  shares  to  his  son,  Mr.  John  Tug- 
geridge, and  came  to  live  in  England,  at  Portland  Place, 
and  Tuggeridgeville,  Surrey,  and  enjoy  himself.  Soon  after, 
my  wife  took  her  daughter  in  her  hand  and  went,  as  in  duty 
bound,  to  visit  her  uncle  :  but  whether  it  was  that  he  was 
proud  and  surly,  or  she  somewhat  sharp  in  her  way,  (the  dear 
girl  fears  nobody,  let  me  have  you  to  know,)  a  desperate  quar- 
rel took  place  between  them  ;  and  from  that  day  to  the  day  of 
his  death,  he  never  set  eyes  on  her.  All  that  he  would  con- 
descend to  do,  was  to  take  a  few  dozen  of  lavender-water  from 
Tis  in  the  course  of  the  year,  and  to  send  his  servants  to  be  cut 
and  shaved  by  us.  All  the  neighbors  laughed  at  this  poor  end- 
ing of  our  expectations,  for  Jemmy  had  bragged  not  a  little  ; 
however,  we  did  not  care,  for  the  connection  was  always  a 
good  one,  and  we  served  Mr.  Hock,  the  valet ;  ]\Ir.  Bar,  the 
■coachman  ;  and  Mrs.  Breadbasket,  the  housekeeper,  willingly 
enough.  I  used  to  j^owder  the  footman,  too,  on  great  days, 
but  never  in  my  life  saw  old  Tuggeridge,  except  once :  when 
he  said,  "  Oh,  the  barber  !  "  tossed  up  his  nose,  and  passed  on. 

One  day — one  famous  clay  last  January — all  our  Market 
was  thrown  into  a  high  state  of  excitement  by  the  appearance 
of  no  less  than  three  vehicles  at  our  establishment.  As  me. 
Jemmy,  my  daughter,  Tug,  and  Orlando,  were  sitting  in  the 
back  parlor  over  our  dinner  (it  being  Christmas-time),  Mr. 
Crump  had  treated  the  ladies  to  a  bottle  of  port,  and  was  long- 
ing that  there  should  be  a  mistletoe-bough  :  at  which  proposal 
my  little  Jemimarann  looked  as  red  as  a  glass  of  negus  : — we 
had  just,  I  say,  finished  the  port,  when,  all  of  a  sudden.  Tug 
bellows  out,  "  La,  Pa,  here's  uncle  Tuggeridge's  housekeeper 
in  a  cab  !  " 

And  Mrs.  Breadbasket  it  was,  sure  enough — Mrs.  Bread- 
basket in  deep  mourning,  who  made  her  way,  bowing  and 
looking  very  sad,  into  the  back  shop.  My  wife,  who  respected 
Mrs.  B.  more  than  anything  else  in  the  world,  set  her  a  chair, 
offered  her  a  glass  of  wine,  and  vowed  it  was  very  kind  of  her 
to  come.     "  La,  mem,"  say  Mrs,  B.,  "  Vm  sure  I'd  do  anything 


THE  ANNOUNCEMENT.  363 

to  sen-e  your  family,  for  the  sake  of  that  poor  dear  Tuck-Tuck- 
tu2:-2;ua:2:erid2;e,  that's  jrone." 

"  That's  what  ?  "  cries  my  wife. 

"  What,  gone  ?  "  cried  Jemimarann,  bursting  out  crying  (as 
little  girls  will  about  anything  or  nothing)  ;  and  Orlando  look- 
ing very  rueful,  and  ready  to  cry  too. 

"  Yes,  gaw "     Just  as  she  was  at  this  very  "  gaw,"  Tug 

roars  out,  "  La,  Pa  !  here's  Mr.  Bar,  uncle  Tug's  coachman  !  " 

It  was  Mr.  Bar.  When  she  saw  him,  Mrs.  Breadbasket 
stepped  suddenly  back  into  the  parlor  with  my  ladies.  "  What 
is  it,  Mr.  Bar  t  "  says  I  ;  and  as  quick  as  thought,  I  had  the 
towel  under  his  chin,  Mr.  Bar  in  the  chair,  and  the  whole  of 
his  face  in  a  beautiful  foam  of  lather.  Mr.  Bar  made  some 
resistance. — "  Don't  think  of  it,  Mr.  Cox,"  says  he ;  "  don't 
trouble  yourself,  sir."  But  I  lathered  away,  and  never  minded. 
"And  what's  this  melancholy  event,  sir,"  says  I,  "that  has 
spread  desolation  in  your  family's  bosoms  ?  I  can  feel  for  your 
loss,,  sir — I  can  feel  for  your  loss." 

I  said  so  out  of  politeness,  because  I  served  the  family,  not 
because  Tuggeridge  was  my  uncle — no,  as  such  I  disown  him. 

Mr.   Bar  was  just  about  to  speak.     "  Yes,   sir,"  says  he, 

"my  master's  gaw "  when  at    the    "gaw,"    in  walks  Mr. 

Hock,  the  own  man  ! — the  finest  gentleman  I  ever  saw. 

"  What,  jvu  here,  Mr.  Bar  !  "  says  he. 

"  Yes,  I  am,  sir  ;  and  haven't  I  a  right,  sir  ?  " 

"  A  mighty  wet  day,  sir,"  says  I  to  Mr.  Hock — stepping  up 
and  making  my  bow.  "  A  sad  circumstance  too,  sir  !  And  is 
it  a  turn  of  the  tongs  that  you  want  to-day,  sir  ?  Ho,  there, 
Mr.  Crump !  " 

"  Turn,  Mr.  Crump,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Hock, 
making  a  bow  ;  "  but  from  you,  sir,  never — no  never,  split  me  ! 
— and  I  wonder  how  some  fellows  can  have  the  insolence  to  al- 
low their  masters  to  shave  them  !  "  With  this,  Mr.  Hock  flung 
himself  down  to  be  curled  :  Mr.  Bar  suddenly  opened  his 
mouth  in  order  to  reply  ;  but  seeing  there  was  a  tiff  between 
the  gentlemen,  and  wanting  to  prevent  a  quarrel,  I  rammed  the 
Advertiser  into  Mr.  Hock's  hands,  and  just  popped  my  shav- 
ing-brush into  Mr.  Bar's  mouth — a  capital  way  to  stop  angry 
answers. 

Mr.  Bar  had  hardly  been  in  the  chair  one  second,  when 
whirr  comes  a  hackney-coach  to  the  door,  from  which  springs 
a  gentleman  in  a  black  coat  with  a  bag. 

"  What,  you  here  !  "  says  the  gentleman.  I  could  not  help 
smiling,  for  it  seemed  that  everybody  was  to  begin  by  saying, 


364  COX'S  DIARY. 

"What,  you  here!"  "Your  name  is  Cox,  sir?"  says  he; 
smiling  too,  as  the  very  pattern  of  mine.  "  My  name,  sir,  is 
Sharpus, — Blunt,  Hone,  and  Sharpus,  Middle  Temple  Lane,— 
and  I  am  proud  to  salute  you,  sir  ;  happy,  that  is  to  say,  sorry 
to  say,  that  Mr.  Tuggeridge,  of  Portland  Place,  is  dead,  and 
your  lady  is  heiress,  in  consequence,  to  one  of  the  handsomest 
properties  in  the  kingdom." 

At  this  I  started,  and  might  have  sunk  to  the  ground,  but 
for  my  hold  of  Mr.  Bar's  nose  ;  Orlando  seemed  putrified  to 
stone,  with  his  irons  fixed  to  Mr.  Hock's  head  ;  our  respective 
patients  gave  a  wince  out : — Mrs.  C,  Jemimarann,  and  Tug, 
rushed  from  the  back  shop,  and  we  formed  a  splendid  tableau 
such  as  the  great  Cruikshank  might  have  depicted. 

"  And  Mr.  John  Tuggeridge,  sir  ?  "  says  I. 

"Why — hee,  hee,  hee  !  "  says  Mr.  Sharpus.  "  Surely  you 
know  that  he  was  only  the  —  hee,  hee,  hee  !  —  the  natural 
son  ! " 

You  now  can  understand  why  the  servants  from  Portland 
Place  had  been  so  eager  to  come  to  us.  One  of  the  house- 
maids heard  Mr.  Sharpus  say  there  was  no  will,  and  that  my 
wife  was  heir  to  the  property,  and  not  Mr.  John  Tuggeridge  : 
this  she  told  in  the  housekeeper's  room  ;  and  off,  as  soon  as 
they  heard  it,  the  whole  party  set,  in  order  to  be  the  first  to 
bear  the  news. 

We  kept  them,  every  one,  in  their  old  places  ;  for,  though 
my  wife  would  have  sent  them  about  their  business,  my  dear 
Jemimarann  just  hinted,  "  Mamma,  you  know  they  have  been 
used  to  great  houses,  and  we  have  not ;  had  we  not  better 
keep  them  for  a  little  ?" — Keep  them,  then,  we  did,  to  show  us 
how  to  be  gentlefolks. 

I  handed  over  the  business  to  Mr.  Crump  without  a  single 
farthing  of  premium,  though  Jemmy  would  have  made  me  take 
four  hundred  pounds  for  it ;  but  this  I  was  above  :  Crump  had 
served  me  faithfully,  and  have  the  shop  he  should. 


FIRST  ROUT. 


We  were  speedily  installed  in  our  fine  house  :  but  what's  a 
house  without  friends  ?  Jemmy  made  me  cut  all  my  old  ac- 
quaintances in  the  Market,  and  I  was  a  solitary  being ;  when, 


THE  ANNOUNCEMENT.  365 

luckily,  an  old  acquaintance  of  ours,  Captain  Tagrag,  was  so 
kind  as  to  promise  tQ  introduce  us  into  distinguislied  society. 
Ta2:rag  was  the  son  of  a  baronet,  and  had  done  us  the  honor 
of  Todging  with  us  for  two  years  ;  when  we  lost  sight  of  him, 
and  of  his  little  account,  too,  by  the  way.  A  fortnight  after, 
hearing  of  our  good  fortune,  he  was  among  us  again,  however  ; 
and  lemmy  was  not  a  little  glad  to  see  him,  knowing  him  to  be 
a  baronet's  son,  and  very  fond  of  our  Jemimarann.  Indeed, 
Orlando  (who  is  as  brave  as  a  lion)  had  on  one  occasion  abso- 
lutely beaten  Mr.  Tagrag  for  being  rude  to  the  poor  girl  :  a 
clear  proof,  as  Tagrag  said  afterwards,  that  he  was  always  fond 
of  her. 

Mr.  Crump,  poor  fellow,  was  not  very  much  pleased  by  our 
good  fortune,  though  he  did  all  he  could  to  try  at  first  ;  and  I 
told  him  to  come  and  take  his  dinner  regular,  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  But  to  this  Jemima  very  soon  put  a  stop,  for  she 
came  very  justly  to  know  her  stature,  and  to  look  down  on 
Crump,  which  she  bid  her  daughter  to  do ;  and,  after  a  great 
scene,  in  which  Orlando  showed  himself  very  rude  and  angry, 
he  was  forbidden  the  house — forever ! 

So  much  for  poor  Crump.  The  Captain  was  now  all  in  all 
with  us.  "  You  see,  sir,"  our  Jemmy  would  say,  "we  shall  have 
our  town  and  country  mansion,  and  a  hundred  and  thirty  thou- 
sand pounds  in  the  funds,  to  leave  between  our  two  children  ; 
and,  with  such  prospects,  they  ought  sure  to  have  the  first 
society  of  England."  To  this  Tagrag  agreed,  and  promised  to 
bring  us  acquainted  with  the  very  pink  of  the  fashion ;  ay,  and 
what's  more,  did. 

Fiist,  he  made  my  wife  get  an  opera-box,  and  give  suppers 
on  Tuesdays  and  Saturdays.  As  for  me,  he  made- me  ride  in 
the  Park  :  me  and  Jemimarann,  with  two  grooms  behind  us,  who 
used  to  laugh  all  the  way,  and  whose  very  beards  I  had  shaved. 
As  for  little  Tug,  he  was  sent  straight  off  to  the  most  fashion- 
able school  in  the  kingdom,  the  Reverend  Doctor  Pigney's,  at 
Richmond. 

Well,  the  horses,  the  suppers,  the  opera-box,  the  paragraph 
in  the  papers  about  Mr.  Coxe  Coxe  (that's  the  way :  double 
your  name  and  stick  an  "  e  "  to  the  end  of  it,  and  you  are  a 
gentleman  at  once),  had  an  effect  in  a  wonderfully  short  space 
of  time,  and  we  began  to  get  a  very  pretty  society  about  us. 
Some  of  old  Tug's  friends  swore  they  would  do  anything  for 
the  family,  and  brought  their  wives  and  daughters  to  see  dear 
INIrs.  Coxe  and  her  charming  girl  ;  and  when,  about  the  first 
week  in  February,  we   announced  a  grand  dinner  and  ball  for 


366 


COX 'S  DIAR  Y. 


the  evening  of  the  twenty-eighth,  I  assure  you  there  was  no 
want  of  company  :  no,  nor  of  titles  neither  ;  and  it  always  does 
my  heart  good  even  to  hear  one  mentioned. 

Let  me  see.  There  was,  first,  my  Lord  Dumboozle,  an 
Irish  peer,  and  his  seven  sons,  the  Honorable  Messieurs 
Trumper  (two  only  to  dinner) ;  there  was  Count  Mace,  the 
celebrated  French  nobleman,  and  his  Excellency  Baron  von 
Punter  from  Baden  ;  there  was  Lady  Blanche  Bluenose,  the 
eminent  literati,  author  of  "  The  Distrusted,"  "  The  Distorted," 
"The  Disgusted,"  "  The  Disreputable  One,"  and  other  poems  \ 
there  was  the  Dowager  Lady  Max  and  her  daughter,  the  Hon- 
orable Miss  Adelaide  Blueruin  ;  Sir  Charles  Codshead,  from 
the  City ;  and  Field-Marshal  Sir  Gorman  O'Gallagher,  K.  A., 
K.  B.,  K,  C,  K.  W.,  K.  X.,  in  the  service  of  the  Republic  of 
Guatemala  :  my  friend  Tagrag  and  his  fashionable  acquaintance, 
little  Tom  Tufthunt,  made  up  the  partv.  And  when  the  doors 
were  flung  open,  and  Mr.  Hock,  in  black,  with  a  white  napkin, 
three  footmen,  coachman,  and  a  lad  whom  Mrs.  C.  had  dressed 
in  sugar-loaf  buttons  and  called  a  page,  were  seen  round  the 
dinner-table,  all  in  white  gloves,  I  promise  you  I  felt  a  thrill  of 
elation,  and  thought  to  myself — Sam  Cox,  Sam  Cox,  who  ever 
would  have  expected  to  see  you  here  ? 

After  dinner,  there  was  to  be,  as  I  said,  an  evening-party  ; 
and  to  this  messieurs  Tagrag  and  Tufthunt  had  invited  many 
of  the  principal  nobility  that  our  metropolis  had  produced. 
When  I  mentioned  among  the  company  to  tea,  her  Grace  the 
Duchess  of  Zero,  her  son  the  Marquis  of  Fitzurse,  and  the 
Ladies  North  Pole  her  daughters  ;  when  I  say  that  there  were 
yet  others,  whose  names  may  be  found  in  the  Blue  Book,  but 
sha'n't,  out  of  Modesty,  be  mentioned  here,  I  think  Fve  said 
enough  to  show  that,  in  our  time.  No.  96  Portland  Place  was 
the  resort  of  the  best  of  company. 

It  was  our  first  dinner,  and  dressed  by  our  new  cook,  Mun- 
seer  Cordongblew.  I  bore  it  very  well ;  eating  for  my  share,  a 
filly  dysol  allamater  dotell,  a  cutlet  soubeast,  a  puUy  bashymall, 
and  other  French  dishes  :  and,  for  the  frisky  sweet  wine,  with 
tin  tops  to  the  bottles,  called  Champang,  I  must  say  that  me 
and  Mrs.  Coxe-Tuggeridge  Coxe  drank  a  very  good  share  of  it 
(but  the  Claret  and  Jonnysberger,  being  sour,  we  did  not  much 
relish).  However,  the  feed,  as  I  say,  went  olif  very  well  :  Lady 
Blanche  Bluenose  sitting  next  to  me,  and  being  so  good  as  to 
put  me  down  for  six  copies  of  all  her  poems  ;  the  Count  and 
Baron  von  Punter  engaging  Jemiraarann  for  several  waltzes, 
and  the  Field-Marshal  plying  my  dear  Jemmy  with  Champang, 


FIRST  ROUT. 


367 


until,  bless  her !  her  dear  nose  became  as  red  as  her  new- 
crimson  satin  gown,  which,  with  a  blue  turban  and  bird  o£ 
paradise  feathers,  made  her  look  like  an  empress,  I  warrant. 

Well,  dinner  past,  ]\Irs.  C.  and  the  ladies  went  off  : — 
thunder-under-under  came  the  knocks  at  the  door ;  squeedle- 
eedle-eedle,  Mr.  Wippert's  fiddlers  began  to  strike  up  ;  and, 
about  half-past  eleven,  me  and  the  gents  thought  it  high  time 
to  make  our  appearance.  I  felt  a  little  squeamish  at  the 
thought  of  meeting  a  couple  of  hundred  great  people ;  but 
Count  Mace  and  Sir  Gorman  O'Gallaglier  taking  each  an  arm, 
we  reached,  at  last,  the  drawing-room. 

The  _,  oung  ones  in  company  were  dancing,  and  the  Duchess 
and  the  great  ladies  were  all  seated,  talking  to  themselves  very- 
stately,  and  working  away  at  the  ices  and  macaroons.  I  looked 
out  for  my  pretty  Jemimarann  amongst  the  dancers,  and  saw 
her  tearing  round  the  room  along  with  Baron  Punter,  in  what 
they  call  a  gallypard  ;  then  I  peeped  into  the  circle  of  the 
Duchesses,  where,  in  course,  I  expected  to  find  Mrs.  C.  ;  but 
she  wasn't  there  I  She  was  seated  at  the  further  end  of  the 
room,  looking  very  sulky  ;  and  I  went  up  and  took  her  arm, 
and  brought  her  down  to  the  place  where  the  Duchesses  were. 
"  Oh,  not  there  I  "  said  Jemmy,  trying  to  break  away.  "  Non- 
sense, my  dear,"  says  I  :  "  you  are  missis,  and  this  is  your 
place."  Then  going  up  to  her  ladyship  the  Duchess,  says  I, 
"  Me  and  my  missis  are  most  proud  of  the  honor  of  seeing  of 
you." 

The  Duchess  (a  tall  red-haired  grenadier  of  a  woman)  did 
not  speak. 

I  went  on  :  "  The  young  ones  are  all  at  it,  ma'am,  you  see  ; 
and  so  we  thought  we  would  come  and  sit  down  among  the  old 
ones.     You  and  I,  ma'am,  I  think,  are  too  stiff  to  dance." 

"  Sir  !  "  says  her  Grace. 

"  Ma'am,"  says  I,  "  don't  you  know  me  ?  My  name's  Cox. 
Nobody's  introduced  me  \  but,  dash  it,  it's  my  own  house,  and 
I  may  present  myself — so  give  us  your  hand,  ma'am." 

And  I  shook  hers  in  the  kindest  way  in  the  world  :  but — - 
would  you  believe  it  ? — the  old  cat  screamed  as  if  my  hand  had 
been  a  hot  'tater.  "  Fitzurse !  Fitzurse  !  "  shouted  she,  "  help  ! 
help  !  "  Up  scuffled  all  the  other  Dowagers— in  rushed  the 
dancers.  "  Mamma  !  mamma  !  "  squeaked  Lady  Julia  North 
Pole.  "  Lead  me  to  my  mother,"  howled  Lady  Aurorer  :  and 
both  came  up  and  flung  themselves  into  her  arms.  "  Wawt's 
the  raw  ?  "  said  Lord  Fitzurse,  sauntering  up  quite  stately. 

'•Protect  me  from  the  insults  of  this  man,"  says  her  Grace. 


368  COX'S  DIARY. 

"  Where's  Tufthunt  ?  he  promised  that  not  a  soul  m  this  house 
should  speak  to  me." 

"  My  dear  Duchess,"  said  Tufthunt,  very  meek. 

"  Don't  Duchess  f/ie,  sir.  Did  you  not  promise  they  should 
not  speak ;  and  hasn't  that  horrid  tipsy  wretch  offered  to 
embrace  me  ?  Didn't  his  monstrous  wife  sicken  me  with  hei 
odious  familiarities  ?  Call  my  people,  Tufthunt !  Follow  me, 
my  children  !  " 

"And  my  carriage,"  "And  mine,"  "And  mine!"  shouted 
twenty  more  voices.  And  down  they  all  trooped  to  the  hall : 
Lady  Blanche  Bluenose  and  Lady  Max  among  the  very  first ; 
leaving  only  the  Field-Marshal  and  one  or  two  men,  who  roared 
with  laughter  ready  to  split. 

"Oh,  Sam,"  said  my  wife,  sobbing,  "why  would  you  take 
me  back  to  them  ?  they  had  sent  me  away  before  !  I  only 
asked  the  Duchess  Avhether  she  didn't  like  rum-shrub  better 
than  all  your  Maxarinos  and  Curasosos :  and — would  you 
believe  iti" — all  the  company  burst  out  laughing;  and  the 
Duchess  told  me  just  to  keep  off,  and  not  to  speak  till  I 
was  spoken  to.     Imperence  !  I'd  like  to  tear  her  eyes  out." 

"  And  so  I  do  believe  my  dearest  Jemmy  would  ! 


A  DAY  WITH  THE  SURREY  HOUNDS. 

Our  ball  had  failed  so  completely  that  Jemmy,  who  was 
bent  still  upon  fashion,  caught  eagerly  at  Tagrag's  suggestion, 
and  went  clown  to  Tuggeridgeville.  If  we  had  a  difficulty  to 
find  friends  in  town,  here  there  was  none  :  for  the  whole  county 
came  about  us,  ate  our  dinners  and  suppers,  danced  at  our  balls 
—ay,  and  spoke  to  us  too.  We  were  great  j^eople  in  fact :  I  a 
regular  country  gentleman  ;  and  as  such,  Jemmy  insisted  that  I 
should  be  a  sportsman,  and  join  the  county  hunt.  "  But,"  says 
I,  "my love,  I  can't  ride."  "  Pooh  !  Mr.  C,"  said  she,  "you're 
a,lways  making  difticulties :  you  couldn't  dance  a  quadrille ; 
you  thought  you  couldn't  dine  at  seven  o'clock ;  you  thought 
you  -couldn't  lie  in  bed  after  six ;  and  haven't  you  done  every 
one  of  these  things .''  You  must  and  you  shall  ride  !  "  And 
when  my  Jemmy  said  "must  and  shall,"  I  knew  very  well 
there  was  nothing"  for   it :  so  I  sent  down  fifty  guineas  to  the 


A  DAY  WITH  THE  SURREY  HOUNDS.  369 

hunt,  and,  out  of  compliment  to  me,  the  very  next  week,  I 
received  notice  that  the  meet  of  the  hounds  would  take  place 
at  Squashtail  Common,  just  outside  my  lodge-gates. 

I  didn't  know  what  a  meet  was  ;  and  me  and  Mrs.  C.  agreed 
that  it  was  most  probable  the  dogs  were  to  be  fed  there. 
However,  Tagrag  explained  this  matter  to  us,  and  very  kindly 
promised  to  sell  me  a  horse,  a  delightful  animal  of  his  own  ; 
which,  being  desperately  pressed  for  money,  he  would  let  me 
have  for  a  hundred  guineas,  he  himself  having  given  a  hundred 
and  fifty  for  it. 

Well,  the  Thursday  came  :  the  hounds  met  on  Squashtail 
Common  ;  Mrs.  C.  turned  out  in  her  barouche  to  see  us  throvy 
off ;  and,  being  helped  up  on  my  chestnut  horse.  Trumpeter,  by 
Tagrag  and  my  head  groom,  I  came  presently  round  to  join 
them. 

Tag  mounted  his  own  horse  ;  and,  as  we  walked  down  the 
avenue,  "I  thought,"  he  said,  "you  told  me  you  knew  how  to 
ride  ;  and  that  you  had  ridden  once  fifty  miles  on  a  stretch  !  " 

"  And  so  I  did,"  says  I,  "  to  Cambridge,  and  on  the  box 
too." 

"  On  the  box  J  "  says  he  ;  "  but  did  you  ever  mount  a  horse 
before  ? " 

"  Never,"  says  I,  "  but  I  find  it  mighty  easy." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  you're  mighty  bold  for  a  barber  ;  and  I 
like  you,  Coxe,  for  your  si^irit."  And  so  we  came  out  of  the 
gate. 

As  for  describing  the  hunt,  I  own,  fairly,  I  can't.  I've  been 
at  a  hunt,  but  what  a  hunt  is — why  the  horses  will  go  among 
the  dogs  and  ride  them  down — why  the  men  cry  out  "  yooooic  " 
— why  the  dogs  go  snuffing  about  in  threes  and  fours,  and  the 
huntsman  says,  "  Good  Towler — good  Betsy,"  and  v/e  all  of  us 
after  him  say,  "  Good  Towler — good  Betsy  "  in  course  :  then, 
after  hearing  a  yelp  here  and  a  howl  there,  tow,  row,  yow,  yow, 
yow !  burst  out,  all  of  a  sudden,  from  three  or  four  of  them, 
and  the  chap  in  a  velvet  cap  screeches  out  (with  a  number  of 
oaths  I  sha'n't  repeat  here),  "  Hark,  to  Ringwood  1  "  and  then, 
"  There  he  goes  J  "  says  some  one  ;  and  all  of  a  sudden,  heltei" 
skelter,  skurry  hurry,  slap  bang,  whooping,  screeching  and 
hurramg,  blue-coats  and  red-coats,  bays  and  grays,  horses,  dogs, 
donkeys,  butchers,  baro-knights,  dustmen,  and  blackguard 
boys,  go  tearing  all  together  over  the  common  after  two  or 
three  of  the  pack  that  yowl  loudest.  V/hy  all  this  is,  I  can't 
say  ;  but  it  all  took  place  the  second  Thursday  of  last  March, 
in  my  presence. 


370  COX'S  DIARY. 

Up  to  this,  I'd  kept  my  seat  as  well  as  the  best,  for  we'd 
only  been  trotting  gently  about  the  field  until  the  dogs  found  ; 
and  I  managed  to  stick  on  very  well ;  but  directly  the  tow- 
rowing  began,  off  went  Trumpeter  like  a  thunderbolt,  and  I 
found  myself  playing  among  the  dogs  like  the  donkey  among 
the  chickens.  "  Back,  Mr.  Coxe,"  holloas  the  huntsman  ;  and 
so  I  pulled  very  hard,  and  cried  out,  "  Wo  ! "  but  he  wouldn't ; 
and  on  I  went  galloping  for  the  dear  life.  How  I  kept  on  is  a 
wonder  ;  but  I  squeezed  my  knees  in  very  tight,  and  shoved  my 
feet  very  hard  into  the  stirrups,  and  kept  stiff  hold  of  the  scruff 
of  Trumpeter's  neck,  and  looked  betwixt  his  ears  as  well  as 
ever  I  could,  and  trusted  to  luck  :  for  I  was  in  a  mortal  fright, 
sure  enough,  as  many  a  better  man  would  be  in  such  a  case,  let 
alone  a  poor  hairdresser. 

As  for  the  hounds,  after  my  first  riding  in  among  them,  I 
tell  you  honestly  I  never  saw  so  much  as  the  tip  of  one  of  their 
tails;  nothing  in  this  world  did  I  see  except  Trumpeter's  dun- 
colored  mane,  and  that  I  griped  firm  :  riding,  by  the  blessing 
of  luck,  safe  through  the  walking,  the  trotting,  the  galloping, 
and  never  so  much  as  getting  a  tumble. 

There  was  a  chap  at  Croydon  very  well  known  as  the 
"  Spicy  Dustman,"  who,  when  he  could  get  no  horse  to  ride  to 
the  hounds,  turned  regularly  out  on  his  donkey  ;  and  on  this 
occasion  made  one  of  us.  He  generally  managed  to  keep  up 
with  the  dogs  by  trotting  quietly  through  the  cross-roads,  and 
knowing  the  country  well.  Well,  having  a  good  guess  where 
the  hounds  would  find,  and  the  line  that  sly  Reynolds  (as  they 
call  the  fox)  would  take,  the  Spicy  Dustman  turned  his  animal 
down  the  lane  from  Squashtail  to  Cutshins  Common ;  across 
which,  sure  enough,  came  the  whole  hunt.  There's  a  small 
hedge  and  a  remarkably  fine  ditch  here  :  some  of  the  leading 
chaps  took  both,  in  gallant  style  ;  others  went  round  by  a  gate, 
and  so  would  I,  only  I  couldn't ;  for  Trumi>eter  would  have  the 
hedge,  and  be  hanged  to-  him,  and  went  right  for  it. 

Hoop  !  if  ever  you  did  try  a  leap  !  Out  go  your  legs,  out 
fling  your  arms,  off  goes  your  hat ;  and  the  next  thing  you  feel 
■ — that  is,/  did — is  a  most  tremendous  thwack  across  the  chest, 
and  my  feet  jerked  out  of  the  stirrups  :  me  left  in  the  branches 
of  a  tree  ;  Trumpeter  gone  clean  from  under  me,  and  walloping 
and  floundering  in  the  ditch  underneath.  One  of  the  stirrup- 
leathers  had  caught  in  a  stake,  and  the  horse  couldn't  get  away  t 
and  neither  of  us,  I  thought,  ever  would  have  got  away  :  but  all 
of  a  sudden,  who  should  come  up  the  lane  but  the  Spicy  Dust- 
man ! 


A  DAY  WITH  THE  SURREY  HOUNDS. 


37» 


Holloa  !  "  says  I,  "  you  gent,  just  let  us   down   from  this 
here  tree  !  " 

"  Lor' !  "  says  he,  "  I'm  blest  if  I  didn't  take  you  for  a 
robin," 

"  Let's  down,"  says  I  ;  but  he  was  all  the  time  employed  in 
disengaging  Trumpeter,  whom  he  got  out  of  the  ditch,  trembling 
and  as  quiet  as  possible.  "  Let's  down,"  says  L  "  Presentl}'," 
says  he  ;  and  taking  off  his  coat,  he  begins  whistling  and  swish- 
ing down  Trumpeter's  sides  and  saddle  ;  and  when  he  had 
finished,  what  do  you  think  the  rascal  did? — he  just  cpietly 
mounted  on  Trumpeter's  back,  and  shouts  out,  "  Git  down  your- 
self, old  Bearsgrease  ;  you've  only  to  drop  !  /'//  give  your 
'oss  a  hairing  arter  them  'ounds  ;  and  you — vy,  you  may  ride 
back  my  pony  to  Tuggeridgeweal !  "  And  with  this,  I'm  blest 
if  he  didn't  ride  away,  leaving  me  holding,  as  for  the  dear  life, 
and  expecting  every  minute  the  branch  would  break. 

It  did  break  too,  and  down  I  came  into  the  slush  ;  and  when 
I  got  out  of  it,  I  can  tell  you  I  didn't  look  much  like  the  Venuses 
or  the  ApoUor  Belvidearis  what  I  used  to  dress  and  titivate  up 
for  my  shop  window  when  I  was  in  the  hairdressing  line,  or 
smell  quite  so  elegant  as  our  rose-oil.  Faugh  !  what  a  figure  I 
was  ! 

I  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  mount  the  dustman's  donkey 
(which  was  veiy  quietly  cropping  grass  in  the  hedge),  and  to 
make  my  way  home  ;  and  after  a  weary,  weary  journey,  I 
arrived  at  my  own  gate. 

A  whole  party  was  assembled  there.  Tagrag,  who  had  come 
back ;  their  Excellencies  Mace  and  Punter,  who  were  on  a 
visit ;  and  a  number  of  horses  walking  up  and  down  before  the 
whole  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  hunt,  who  had  come  in  after 
losing  their  fox  !  "  Here's  Squire  Coxe  !  "  shouted  the  grooms. 
Out  rushed  the  servants,  out  poured  the  gents  of  the  hunt,  and 
on  trotted  poor  me,  digging  into  the  donkey,  and  everybody 
dying  with  laughter  at  me. 

Just  as  I  got  up  to  the  door,  a  horse  came  galloping  up,  and 
passed  me ;  a  man  jumped  down,  and  taking  off  a  fantail  hat, 
came  up,  very  gravely,  to  help  me  down. 

"  Squire,"  says  he,  "  how  came  you  by  that  there  hanimal  ? 
Jist  git  down,  will  you,  and  give  it  to  its  howner  ? " 

"  Rascal  !  "  says  I,  "  didn't  you  ride  off  on  my  horse  .?  " 

"  Was  there  ever  sich  ingratitude  .-•  "  says  the  Spicy.  "  I 
found  this  year  'oss  in  a  pond,  I  saves  him  from  drowning,  I 
brings  him  back  to  his  master,  and  he  calls  me  a  rascal  !  " 

The  grooms,  the  gents,  the  ladies   in  the  balcony,  my  own 


372  code's  DTARY. 

servants,  all  set  up  a  roar  at  this  \  and  so  would  I,  only  I  was 
so  deucedly  ashamed,  as  not  to  be  able  to  laugh  just  then. 

And  so  my  first  day's  hunting  ended.  Tagrag  and  the  rest 
declared  I  showed  great  pluck,  and  wanted  nie  to  try  again  j 
but  "  No,"  says  I  "I  have  been." 


THE  FINISHING  TOUCH. 


I  WAS  always  fond  of  billiards  :  and,  in  former  days,  at 
Grogram's  in  Greek  Street,  where  a  few  jolly  lads  of  my  ac- 
quaintance used  to  meet  twice  a  week  for  a  game,  and  a  snug 
pipe  and  beer,  I  was  generally  voted  the  first  man  of  the  club  ; 
and  could  take  five  from  John  the  marker  himself.  I  had  a 
genius,  in  fact,  for  the  game  ;  and  now  that  I  was  placed  in 
that  station  of  life  where  I  could  cultivate  my  talents,  I  gave 
them  full  play,  and  improved  amazingly.  I  do  say  that  I  think 
myself  as  good  a  hand  as  any  chap  in  England. 

The  Count  and  his  Excellency  Baron  von  Punter  were,  I 
can  tell  you,  astonished  by  the  smartness  of  my  play :  the  first 
two  or  three  rubbers  Punter  beat  me,  but  when  I  came  to  know 
his  game,  I  used  to  knock  him  all  to  sticks  ;  or,  at  least,  win 
six  games  to  his  four :  and  such  was  the  betting  upon  me  ;  his 
Excellency  losing  large  sums  to  the  Count,  who  knew  what  play 
was,  and  used  to  back  me.  I  did  not  play  except  for  shillings, 
so  my  skill  was  of  no  great  service  to  me. 

One  day  I  entered  the  billiard-room  where  these  three  gen- 
tlemen were  high  in  words.  "  The  thing  shall  not  be  done," 
I  heard  Captain  Tagrag  say :  "  I  won't  stand  it." 

"  Vat,  begause  you  would  have  de  bird  all  to  yourzelf,  hey  ?  " 
said  the  Baron. 

"  You  sail  not  have  a  single  fezare  of  him,  begar,"  said  the 
Count :  "  ve  vill  blow  you,  M.  de  Taguerague ;  parole  d'hon- 
neur,  ve  vill." 

"What's  all  this,  gents,"  says  I,  stepping  in,  "about  birds 
and  feathers  .''  " 

"  Oh,"  says  Tagrag,  "  we  were  talking  about — about — • 
pigeon-shooting ;  the  Count  here  says  he  will  blow  the  bird  all 
to  pieces  at  twenty  yards,  and  I  said  I  wouldn't  stand  it,  be- 
cause it  was  regular  murder." 

"Oh,  yase,  it  was  bidgeon-shooting,"  cries  the  Baron  :  "and 


THE  FINISHING  TOUCH 


373 


I  know  no  better  short.  Have  you  been  biclgeon-shooting,  my 
dear  Squire  ?     I)e  fon  is  gabidal." 

"No  doubt,"  says  I,  "for  the  shooters,  mighty  bad  sport 
for  the /^^tw/,"  And  this  joke  set  them  all  a-laughing  ready 
to  die.  I  didn't  know  then  what  a  good  joke  it  was,  neither  ; 
but  I  gave  Master  Baron,  that  da)',  a  precious  good  beating, 
and  walked  off  with  no  less  than  fifteen  shillings  of  his  money. 

As  a  sporting  man,  and  a  man  of  fashion,  I  need  not  say 
that  I  took  in  the  Flare-up  regularly ;  ay,  and  wrote  one  or  two 
trifles  in  that  celebrated  publication  (one  of  my  papers,  which 
Tagrag  subscribed  for  me,  Philo-pestitiaeamicus,  on  the  proper 
sauce  for  teal  and  widgeon — and  the  other,  signed  Scru-tatos, 
on  the  best  means  of  cultivating  the  kidney  species  of  that  veg- 
etable— made  no  small  noise  at  the  time,  and  got  me  in  the 
paper  a  compliment  from  the  editor).  I  was  a  constant  reader 
of  the  Notices  to  Correspondents,  and,  my  early  education 
having  been  raythq^neglected,  (for  I  was  taken  from  my  stud- 
ies and  set,  as  is  the  custom  in  our  trade,  to  practice  on  a 
sheep's  head  at  the  tender  age  of  nine  years,  before  I  was  al- 
lowed to  venture  on  the  humane  countenance,) — I  say,  being 
thus  curtailed  and  cut  oft"  in  my  classical  learning,  I  must  con- 
fess I  managed  to  pick  up  a  pretty  smattering  of  -genteel  infor- 
mation from  that  treasury  of  all  sorts  of  knowledge ;  at  least 
sufficient  to  make  me  a  match  in  learning  for  all  the  noblemen 
and  gentlemen  who  came  to  our  house.  Well,  on  looking  over 
the  Flare-up  notices  to  correspondents,  I  read,  one  day  last 
April,  among  the  notices,  as  follows  : — 

"  '  Automodon.'  We  do  not  know  the  precise  age  of  Mr. 
Baker  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre  ;  nor  are  we  aware  if  that 
celebrated  son  of  Thespis  is  a  married  man. 

"  '  Ducks  and  Green-peas  '  is  informed,  that  when  A  plays 
his  rook  to  B's  second  Knight's  square,  and  B,  moving  two 
squares  with  his  Queen's  pawn,  gives  check  to  his  adversary's 
Queen,  there  is  no  reason  why  B's  Queen  should  not  take  A's 
pawn,  if  B  be  so  inclined. 

"  '  F.  L.  S.'  We  have  repeatedly  answered  the  question 
about  Madame  Vestris  :  her  maiden  name  was  Bartolozzi,  and 
she  married  the  son  of  Charles  Mathews,  the  celebrated  come- 
dian. 

"  '  Fair  Play.'  The  best  amateur  billiard  and  ecarte  player 
in  England,  is  Coxe  Tuggeridge  Coxe,  Esq.,  of  Portland  Place, 
and  Tuggeridgeville  :  Jonathan,  who  knows  his  play,  can  only 
give  him  two  in  a  game  of  a  hundred  ;  and,  at  the  cards,  no  man 
is  I:"-:  superior.     Verbum  Sap. 


374  COX'S  DIARY. 

"  '  Scipio  Americanus  '  is  a  blockhead." 

I  read  this  out  to  the  Count  and  Tagrag,  and  both  of  them 
wondered  how  the  Editor  of  that  tremendous  Flare-up  should 
get  such  information  \  and  both  agreed  that  the  Baron,  who 
still  piqued  himself  absurdly  on  his  play,  would  be  vastly  an- 
noyed by  seeing  me  preferred  thus  to  himself.  We  read  him 
the  paragraph,  and  preciously  angry  he  was.  "  Id  is,"  he  cried, 
"  the  tables  "  (or  "de  daMs,"  as  he  called  them), — "  de  horrid 
dabels  ;  gum  viz  me  to  London,  and  dry  a  slate-table,  and  I 
vill  beat  you."  We  all  roared  at  this  ;  and  the  end  of  this  dis- 
pute was,  that,  just  to  satisfy  the  fellow,  I  agreed  to  play  his 
Excellency  at  slate-tables,  or  any  tables  he  chose. 

"  Gut,"  says  he,  "  gut ;  I  lif,  you  know,  at  Abednego's,  in  de 
Quadrant ;  his  dabels  is  goot ;  ve  vill  blay  dere,  if  you  vill." 
And  I  said  I  would  :  and  it  was  agreed  that,  one  Saturday 
night,  when  Jemmy  was  at  the  Opera,  we  should  go  to  the 
Baron's  rooms,  and  give  him  a  chance.       # 

We  went,  and  the  little  Baron  had  as  fine  a  supper  as  ever 
I  saw :  lots  of  Champang  (and  I  didn't  mind  drinking  it),  and 
plenty  of  laughing  and  fun.  Afterwards,  down  we  went  to 
billiards.  "  Is  dish  Misther  Coxsh,  de  shelebrated  player  ?  " 
says  Mr.  Abednego,  who  was  in  the  room,  with  one  or  two 
gentlemen  of  his  own  persuasion,  and  several  foreign  noblemen, 
dirty,  snuffy,  and  hairy,  as  them  foreigners  are.  "  Is  dish 
Misther  Coxsh  ?  blesh  my  hart,  it  is  a  honer  to  see  you  ;  I 
have  heard  so  much  of  your  play." 

"  Come,  come,"  says  I,  "  sir  " — for  I'm  pretty  wide  awake 
— "  none  of  your  gammon  ;  you're  not  going  to  hook  7/ie." 

"  No,  begar,  dis  fish  you  not  catch,"  says  Count  Mace. 

"  Dat  is  gut ! — haw  !  haw  !  "  snorted  the  Baron.  "  Hook 
him  !  Lieber  Himmel,  you  might  dry  and  hook  me  as  well. 
Haw  !  haw  !  " 

Well,  we  went  to  play.  "  Five  to  four  on  Coxe,"  screams 
out  the  Count. — "  Done  and  done,"  says  another  nobleman. 
"  Ponays,"  says  the  Count. — "  Done,"  says  the  nobleman.  "  I 
vill  take  your  six  crowns  to  four,"  says  the  Baron. — "  Done," 
says  I.  And,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  I  beat  him  ;  once 
making  thirteen  off  the  balls  without  stopping. 

We  had  some  more  wine  after  this  ;  and  if  you  could  have 
seen  the  long  faces  of  the  other  noblemen,  as  they  pulled  out 
their  pencils  and  wrote  I.  O.  U.'s  for  the  Count !  "  Va  toujours, 
mon  cher,"  says  he  to  me,  "you  have  von  for  me  three  hundred 
pounds." 

■'I'll  blay  you  guineas  dis  time,"  says  the  Baron.     "  Zeven 


A  NEW  DROP-SCENE  AT  THE  OPERA. 


375 


to  four  you  must  give  me  though."  And  so  I  did  :  and  in  ten 
minutes  that  game  was  won,  and  the  Baron  handed  over  his 
pounds.  "  Two  hundred  and  sixty  more,  my  dear,  dear  Coxe," 
says  the  Count ;  "  you  are  mon  ange  gardien  ! "  "  Wot  a  flat 
Misther  Coxsh  is,  not  to  back  his  luck,"  I  heard  Abednego 
whisper  to  one  of  the  foreign  noblemen. 

"  I'll  take  your  seven  to  four,  in  tens,"  said  I  to  the  Baron. 
"  Give  me  three,"  says  he,  "  and  done."  I  gave  him  three,  and 
lost  the  game  by  one.  "  Dobbel,  or  quits,"  says  he.  "Go  it," 
says  I,  up  to  my  mettle  :  "  Sam  Coxe  never  says  no  ;  " — and  to 
it  we  went.  I  went  in,  and  scored  eighteen  to  his  live.  "  Holy 
Moshesh  !  "  says  Abednego,  "  dat  little  Coxsh  is  a  vender  ! 
who'll  take  odds  ?  " 

"I'll  give  twenty  to  one,"  says  I,  "in  guineas." 

"  Ponays  j  yase,  done,"  screams  out  the  Count. 

'■'■  Bonies,  done,"  roars  out  the  Baron  :  and,  before  I  could 
speak,  went  in,  and — would  you  believe  it  ? — in  two  minutes  he 

somehow  made  the  game  ! 

*  "*  *  *  * 

Oh,  what  a  figure  I  cut  when  my  dear  Jemmy  heard  of  this 
afterwards  !  In  vain  I  swore  it  was  guineas  :  the  Count  and 
the  Baron  swore  to  ponies  ;  and  when  I  refused,  they  both  said 
their  honor  was  concerned,  and  they  must  have  my  life,  or  their 
mone}'-.  So  when  the  Count  showed  me  actually  that,  in  spite 
of  this  bet  (which  had  been  too  good  to  resist)  won  from  me, 
he  had  been  a  very  heavy  loser  by  the  night ;  and  brought  me 
the  word  of  honor  of  Abednego,  his  Jewish  friend,  and  the 
foreign  noblemen,  that  ponies  had  been  betted  ; — why,  I  paid 
them  one  thousand  pounds  sterling  of  good  and  lawful  money. 
— But  I've  not  played  for  money  since  :  no,  no ;  catch  me  at 
that  again  if  you  can. 


A  NEW  DROP-SCENE  AT  THE  OPERA. 

No  lady  is  a  lady  without  having  a  box  at  the  Opera  :  so 
my  Jemmy,  who  knew  as  much  about  music, — bless  her  ! — as  I 
do  about  Sanscrit,  algebra,  or  any  other  foreign  language,  took 
a  prime  box  on  the  second  tier.  It  was  what  they  called  a 
double  box  ;  it  really  could  hold  two,  that  is,  very  comfortably  \ 
and  we  got  it  a  great  bargain  —  for  five  hundred  a  year! 
Here,  Tuesdays  and  Saturdays,  we  used  regularly  to  take  our 


376  COX'S  DIARY. 

places,  Jemmy  and  Jemimarann  sitting  in  front;  me,  behind: 
but  as  my  clear  wife  used  to  wear  a  large  fantail  gauze  hat  with 
ostrich  feathers,  birds  of  paradise,  artificial  flowers,  and  tags  of 
muslin  or  satin,  scattered  all  over  it,  I'm  blest  if  she  didn't  fill 
the  whole  of  the  front  of  the  box  ;  and  it  was  only  by  jumping 
and  dodging,  three  or  four  times  in  the  course  of  the  night, 
that  I  could  manage  to  get  a  sight  of  the  actors.  By  kneeling 
clown,  and  looking  steady  under  my  darling  Jemmy's  sleeve,  I 
did  contrive,  every  now  and  then,  to  have  a  peep  of  Senior 
Lablash's  boots,  in  the  "  Puritanny,"  and  once  actually  saw 
Madame  Gerasi's  crown  and  head-dress  in  "  Annybalony." 

What  a  place  that  Opera  is,  to  be  sure  !  and  what  enjoy- 
ments us  aristocracy  used  to  have  !  Just  as  you  have  swal- 
lowed down  your  three  courses  (three  curses  I  used  to  call 
them  ; — for  so,  indeed,  they  are,  causing  a  deal  of  heartburns, 
headaches,  doctor's  bills,  pills,  want  of  sleep,  and  such) — just,  I 
say,  as  you  get  dov.'n  your  three  courses,  which  I  defy  any  man 
to  enjoy  properly  unless  he  has  two  hours  of  drink  and  quiet 
afterwards,  up  comes  the  carriage,  in  bursts  my  Jemmy,  as  fine 
as  a  duchess,  and  scented  like  our  shop.  "  Come,  my  dear," 
says  she,  "  it's  '  Normy  '  to-night  "  (or  "  Annybalony,"  or  the 
"  Nosey  di  Figaro,"  or  the  "  Gazzylarder,"  as  the  case  may  be). 
*'  Mr.  Coster  strikes  off  punctually  at  eight,  and  you  know  it's 
the  fashion  to  be  always  present  at  the  very  first  bar  of  the 
aperture."  And  so  off  we  are  obliged  to  budge,  to  be  mis- 
erable for  five  hours,  and  to  have  a  headache  for  the  next 
twelve,  and  all  because  it's  the  fashion  ! 

After  the  aperture,  as  they  call  it,  comes  the  opera,  which, 
as  I  am  given  to  understand,  is  the  Italian  for  singing.  Why 
t'ley  should  sing  in  Italian,  I  can't  conceive  ;  or  why  they  should 
do  nothing  but  sing.  Bless  us  !  how  I  used  to  long  for  the 
v/ooden  magpie  in  the  "Gazzylarder  "  to  fly  up  to  the  top  of  the 
church-steeple,  with  the  silver  spoons,  and  see  the  chaps  with 
tlie  pitchforks  come  in  and  carry  off  that  wicked  Don  June. 
I'lot  that  I  don't  admire  Lablash,  and  Rubini,  and  his  brother, 
Tomrubini :  him  who  has  that  fine  bass  voice,  I  mean,  and  acts 
the  Corporal  in  the  first  piece,  and  Don  June  in  the  second ; 
but  three  hours  is  a  litt/e  too  much,  for  you  can't  sleejDon  those 
liLtle  rickety  seats  in  the  boxes. 

The  opera  is  bad  enough ;  but  what  is  that  to  the  bally  ? 
You  should  have  seen  my  Jemmy  the  first  night  when  she 
stopped  to  see  it ;  and  when  Madamsalls  Fanny  and  Theresa 
Hustler  came  forward,  along  with  a  gentleman,  to  dance,  you 
should  have  seen   how  Jemmy  stared,  and  our  girl  blushedj 


A  NE IV  DROP-SCENE  AT  THE  OPERA. 


377 


when  Madamsall  Fanny,  coming  forward,  stood  on  the  tips  of 
only  five  of  her  toes,  and  raising  up  the  other  five,  and  the  foot 
belonging  to  them,  almost  to  her  shoulder,  twirled  round,  and 
round,  and  round,  like  a  teetotum,  for  a  couple  of  minutes  or 
more  ;  and  as  she  settled  down,  at  last,  on  both  feet,  in  a  natu- 
ral decent  posture,  you  should  have  heard  how  the  house  roared 
with  applause,  the  boxes  clapping  with  all  their  might,  and  wav- 
ing their  handkerchiefs  ;  the  pit  shouting,  "  Bravo  !  "  Some 
people,  who,  I  suppose,  were  rather  angry  at  such  an  exhibition, 
threw  bunches  of  flowers  at  her ;  and  what  do  you  think  she 
did  ?  Why,  hang  me,  if  she  did  not  come  forward,  as  though 
nothing  had  happened,  gather  up  the  things  they  had  thrown 
at  her,  smile,  press  them  to  her  heart,  and  begin  whirling  round 
again,  faster  than  ever.  Talk  about  coolness,  /  never  saw  such 
in  all  my  born  days. 

"  Nasty  thing  !  "  says  Jemmy,  starting  up  in  a  fury ;  "  if 
women  will  act  so,  it  serves  them  right  to  be  treated  so." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  she  acts  beautifully,"  says  our  friend  his  Ex- 
cellency, who,  along  with  Baron  von  Punter  and  Tagrag,  used 
very  seldom  to  miss  coming  to  our  box. 

"  She  may  act  very  beautifully,  Munseer,  but  she  don't  dress 
so ;  and  I  am  very  glad  they  threw  that  orange-peel  and  all 
those  things  at  her,  and  that  the  people  waved  to  her  to  get 
off." 

Here  his  Excellency,  and  the  Baron  and  Tag,  set  up  a  roar 
of  laughter. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Coxe,"  says  Tag,  "  those  are  the  most  fa- 
mous dancers  in  the  world ;  and  we  throw  myrtle,  geraniums, 
and  lilies  and  roses  at  them,  in  token  of  our  immense  admira- 
tion !  " 

'•  Well,  I  never ! "  said  my  wife  ;  and  poor  Jemimarann 
slunk  behind  the  curtain,  and  looked  as  red  as  it  almost. 
After  the  one  had  done,  the  next  begun ;  but  when,  all  of  a 
sudden,  a  somebody  came  skipping  and  bounding  in,  like  an 
india-rubber  ball,  flinging  itself  up,  at  least  six  feet  from  the 
stage,  and  there  shaking  about  its  legs  like  mad,  we  were  more 
astonished  than  ever ! 

"  That's  Anatole,"  says  one  of  the  gentlemen. 

"  Anna  who  ?  "  says  my  wife  ;  and  she  might  well  be  mis- 
taken :  for  this  person  had  a  hat  and  feathers,  a  bare  neck  and 
arms,  great  black  ringlets,  and  a  little  calico  frock,  which  came 
down  to  the  knees. 

"  Anatole.  You  would  not  think  he  was  sixty-three  years 
old,  he's  as  active  as  a  man  of  twentv." 


378  COX'S  DIARY. 

'■^  He  !  "  shrieked  out  my  wife  ;  "  what,  is  that  there  a  man  ? 
For  shame  !  Munseer.  Jemimarann,  dear,  get  your  cloak,  and 
come  along ;  and  I'll  thank  you,  my  dear,  to  call  our  people, 
and  let  us  go  home." 

You  wouldn't  think,  after  this,  that  my  Jemmy,  who  had 
shown  such  a  horror  at  the  bally,  as  they  call  it,  should  ever 
grow  accustomed  to  it ;  but  she  liked  to  hear  her  name  shout- 
ed  out  in  the  crush-room,  and  so  would  stop  till  the  end  of 
everything  ;  and,  law  bless  you  !  in  three  weeks  from  that  time, 
she  could  look  at  the  ballet  as  she  would  at  a  dancing-dog  in 
the  streets,  and  would  bring  her  double-barrelled  opera-glass 
up  to  her  eyes  as  coolly  as  if  she  had  been  a  born  duchess. 
As  for  me,  I  did  at  Rome  as  Rome  does ;  and  precious  fun  it 
used  to  be,  sometimes. 

My  friend  the  Baron  insisted  one  night  on  my  going  behind 
the  scenes ;  where,  being  a  subscriber,  he  said  I  had  what  they 
call  my  ontray.  Behind,  then,  I  went ;  and  such  a  place  you 
never  saw  nor  heard  of !  Fancy  lots  of  young  and  old  gents 
of  the  fashion  crowding  round  and  staring  at  the  actresses  prac- 
tising their  steps.  Fancy  yellow  snuffy  foreigners,  chattering 
always,  and  smelling  fearfully  of  tobacco.  Fancy  scores  of 
Jews,  with  hookednoses  and  black  muzzles,  covered  with  rings, 
chains,  sham  diamonds,  and  gold  waistcoats.  Fancy  old  men 
dressed  in  old  night-gowns,  with  knock-knees,  and  dirty  flesh- 
colored  cotton  stockings,  and  dabs  of  brick-dust  on  their 
wrinkled  old  chops,  and  tow-wigs  (such  wigs  !)  for  the  bald  ones, 
and  great  tin  spears  in  their  hands  mayhap,  or  else  shepherds' 
crooks,  and  fusty  garlands  of  flowers  made  of  red  and  green 
baize.  Fancy  troops  of  girls  giggling,  chattering,  pushing  to 
and  fro,  amidst  old  black  canvas,  Gothic  halls,  thrones,  paste- 
board Cupids,  dragons,  and  such  like.  Such  dirt,  darkness, 
crowd,  confusion  and  gabble  of  all  conceivable  languages  was 
never  known  ! 

If  you  could  but  have  seen  Munseer  Anatole  !  Instead  of 
looking  twenty  he  looked  a  thousand.  The  old  man's  wig  was 
ofif,  and  a  barber  was  giving  it  a  touch  with  the  tongs  ;  Munseer 
was  taking  snuff  himself,  and  a  boy  was  standing  by  with  a  pint 
of  beer  from  the  public-house  at  the  corner  of  Charles  Street. 

I  met  with  a  little  accident  during  the  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  which  they  allow  for  the  entertainment  of  us  men  of 
fashion  on  the  stage,  before  the  curtain  draws  up  for  the  bally, 
while  the  ladies  in  the  boxes  are  gaping,  and  the  people  in  the 
pit  arc  drumming  with  their  feet  and  canes  in  the  rudest  man- 
ner possible,  as  though  they  couldn't  wait. 


STRIKING  A  BALANCE.  37^^ 

Just  at  the  moment  before  the  little  bell  rings  nnd  the  cur- 
tain  flies  up,  and  we  scuffle  off  to  the  sides  (for  we  always  stay 
till  the  very  last  moment),  I  was  in  the  middle  of  the  stage, 
making  myself  very  affable  to  the  fair  figgerantys  which  was 
spinning  and  twirling  about  me,  and  asking  them  if  they  wasn't 
cold,  and  such  like  politeness,  in  the  most  condescending  way 
possible,  when  a  bolt  was  suddenly  withdrawn,  and  down  I 
popped,  through  a  trap  in  the  stage,  into  the  place  below. 
Luckily,  I  was  stopped  by  a  piece  of  machinery,  consisting  of  a 
heap  of  green  blankets  and  a  young  lady  coming  up  as  Venus 
rising  from  the  sea.  If  I  had  not  fallen  so  soft,  I  don't  know 
what  might  have  been  the  consequence  of  the  collusion.  I 
never  told  Mrs.  Coxe,  for  she  can't  bear  to  hear  of  my  paying 
the  least  attention  to  the  fair  sex. 


STRIKING  A  BALANCE. 


Next  door  to  us,  in  Portland  Place,  lived  the  Right  Honor- 
able the  Earl  of  Kilblazes,  of  Kilmacrasy  Castle,  county  Kil- 
dare,  and  his  mother,  the  Dowager  Countess.  Lady  Kilblazes 
had  a  daughter.  Lady  Juliana  Matilda  Mac  Turk,  of  the  exact 
age  of  our  dear  Jemimarann  ;  and  a  son,  the  Honorable  Arthur 
Wellington  Anglesea  Blucher  Bulow  Mac  Turk,  only  ten  months 
older  than  our  boy  Tug. 

My  darling  Jemmy  is  a  woman  of  spirit,  and,  as  become  her 
station,  made  every  possible  attempt  to  become  acquainted  with 
the  Dowager  Countess  of  Kilblazes,  which  her  ladyship  (because, 
forsooth,  she  was  the  daughter  of  the  Minister,  and  Prince  of 
Wales's  great  friend,  the  Earl  of  Portansherry)  thought  fit  to 
reject.  I  don't  wonder  at  my  Jemmy  growing  so  angry  with 
her,  and  determining,  in  every  way,  to  put  her  ladyship  down. 
The  Kilblazes'  estate  is  not  so  large  as  the  Tuggeridge  prop- 
erty by  two  thousand  a  year  at  least ;  and  st)  my  wife,  when 
our  neighbors  kept  only  two  footmen,  was  quite  authorized  in 
having  three ;  and  she  made  it  a  point,  as  soon  as  ever  the 
Kilblazes'  carriage-and-pair  came  round,  to  have  out  her  own 
carriage-and-four. 

Well,  our  box  was  next  to  theirs  at  the  Opera  ;  only  twice 
as  big.  Whatever  masters  went  to  Lady  Juliana,  came  to  my 
Jemimarann ;  and  what  do  you  think  Jemmy  did  ?  she  got  her 


380  COX'S  DIARY. 

celebrated  governess,  Madame  de  Flicflac,  away  from  the 
Countess,  by  offering  a  double  salary.  It  was  quite  a  treasure, 
they  said,  to  have  Madame  Flicflac  :  she  had  been  (to  support 
her  father,  the  Count,  when  he  emigrated)  a  French  dancer  at 
the  Ital'uvi  Opera.  French  dancing,  and  Italian,  therefore,  we 
had  at  once,  and  in  the  best  style  :  it  is  astonishing  how  quick 
and  well  she  used  to  speak — the  French  especially. 

Master  Arthur  Mac  Turk  was  at  the  famous  school  of  the 
Reverend  Clement  Coddler,  along  with  a  hundred  and  ten 
other  young  fashionables,  from  the  age  of  three  to  fifteen  ;  and 
to  this  establishment  Jemmy  sent  our  Tug,  adding  forty  guineas 
to  the  hundred  and  twenty  paid  every  year  for  the  boarders.  I 
think  I  found  out  the  dear  soul's  reason  ;  for,  one  day,  speak- 
ing about  the  school  to  a  mutual  acquaintance  of  ours  and  the 
Kilblazes,  she  whispered  to  him  that  "  she  never  would  have 
thought  of  sending  her  darling  boy  at  the  rate  which  her  next- 
door  neighbors  paid  ;  their  lad,  she  was  sure,  must  be  starved  : 
however,  poor  people,  they  did  the  best  they  could  on  their 
income  !  " 

Coddler's,  in  fact,  was  the  tip-top  school  near  London  ;  he 
had  been  tutor  to  the  Duke  of  Buckminster,  who  had  set  him 
up  in  the  school,  and,  as  I  tell  you,  all  the  peerage  and  respect- 
able commoners  came  to  it.  You  read  in  the  bill,  (the  snopsis, 
I  think,  Coddler  called  it,)  after  the  account  of  the  charges  for 
board,  masters,  extras,  &c.  — "  Every  young  nobleman  (or 
gentleman)  is  expected  to  bring  a  knife,  fork,  spoon  and  goblet 
of  silver  (to  prevent  breakage),  which  will  not  be  returned  ;  a 
dressing-gown  and  slippers ;  toilet-box,  pomatum,  curling-irons, 
&c.,  &c.  The  pupil  must  on  no  account  be  allowed  to  have 
more  then  ten  guineas  of  pocket-money,  unless  his  parents 
jDarticularly  desire  it,  or  he  be  above  fifteen  years  of  age. 
Wine  will  be  an  extra  charge  ;  as  are  warm,  vapor,  and  douche 
baths.  Carriage  exercise  will  be  provided  at  the  rate  of  fifteen 
guineas  per  quarter.  It  is  earnestly  t'eqiiested  that  no  young 
nobleman  (or  gentleman)  be  allowed  to  smoke.  In  a  place 
devoted  to  the  cultivation  of  polite  literature,  such  an  ignoble 
enjoyment  were  profane. 

"  Clement  Coddler,  M.  A., 

"  Chaplain  and  late  tutor  to  his  Grace  the 
"Mount  Parnassus,  Richmond,  Surrey.  Duke  of  Buckminster." 

To  this  establishment  our  Tug  was  sent.  "  Recollect,  my 
dear,"  said  his  mamma,  "  that  you  are  a  Tuggeridge  by  birth, 
and  that  I  expect  you  to  beat  all  the  boys  in  the  school  ;  espe- 


STRIKING  A  BALANCE.  381 

cially  that  Wellington  Mac  Turk,  who,  though  he  is  a  lord's 
son,  is  nothing  to  you,  who  are  the  heir  of  Tuggeridgeville." 

Tug  was  a  smart  young  fellow  enough,  and  could  cut  and 
curl  as  well  as  any  young  chap  of  his  age  :  he  was  not  a  bad 
hand  at  a  wig  either,  and  could  shave,  too,  very  prettily  ;  but 
that  was  in  the  old  time,  when  we  were  not  great  people  :  when 
he  came  to  be  a  gentleman,  he  had  to  learn  Latin  and  Greek, 
and  had  a  deal  of  lost  time  to  make  up  for,  on  going  to  school. 

However,  we  had  no  fear  ;  for  the  Reverend  Mr.  Coddler 
used  to  send  monthly  accounts  of  his  pupil's  progress,  and  if 
Tug  was  not  a  wonder  of  the  world,  I  don't  know  who  was.  It 
was 

General  behavior  .  .  .  •  excellent. 

English  .....  very  good. 

French    ......  tres  bien. 

Latin  .....  optirae. 

And  so  on  : — he  possessed  all  the  virtues,  and  wrote  to  us 
every  month  for  money.  My  dear  Jemmy  and  I  determined  to 
go  and  see  him,  after  he  had  been  at  school  a  quarter  ;  we 
went,  and  were  shown  by  Mr.  Coddler,  one  of  the  meekest, 
smilingest  little  men  I  ever  saw,  into  the  bedrooms  and  eating- 
rooms  (the  dromitaries  and  refractories  he  called  them),  which 
were  all  as  comfortable  as  comfortable  might  be.  "  It  is  a 
holiday  to-day,"  said  Mr.  Coddler ;  and  a  hotiday  it  seemed  to 
be.  In  the  dining-room  were  half  a  dozen  young  gentlemen 
playing  at  cards  ("  All  tip-top  nobility,"  observed  Mr.  Coddler;) 
— in  the  bedrooms  there  was  only  one  gent :  he  was  lying  on 
his  bed,  reading  novels  and  smoking  cigars.  "  Extraordinary 
genius  !  "  whispered  Coddler.  "  Honorable  Tom  Fitz-Warter, 
cousin  of  Lord  Byron's  ;  smokes  all  day  ;  and  has  written  the 
sweetest  poems  you  can  imagine.  Genius,  my  dear  madam,  you 
know — genius  must  have  its  way."  "  Well,  upon  my  word," 
says  Jemmy,  "  if  that's  genius,  I  had  rather  that  Master  Tug- 
geridge  Coxe  Tuggeridge  remained  a  d»ull  fellow." 

"  Impossible,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Coddler.  "  Mr.  Tug- 
geridge Coxe  couldii't  be  stupid  if  he  fried.'" 

Just  then  up  comes  Lord  Claude  Lollypop,  third  son  of  the 
Marquis  of  Allycompane.  We  were  introduced  instantly : 
"  Lord  Claude  Lollypop,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Coxe."  The  little  lord 
wagged  his  head,  my  wife  bowed  very  low,  and  so  did  Mr. 
Coddler  ;  who,  as  he  saw  my  lord  making  for  the  playground, 
begged  him  to  show  us  the  way. — "  Come  along,"  says  my  lord ; 
and  as  he  walked  before  us,  whistling,  we  had  leisure  to  remark 
the  beautiful  holes  in  his  jacket,  and  elsewhere. 


382  COX'S  DIARY. 

About  twenty  young  noblemen  (and  gentlemen)  were 
gathered  round  a  pastr3^-cook's  shop  at  the  end  of  the  green. 
"  That's  the  grub-shop,"  said  my  lord,  "  where  we  young 
gentlemen  wot  has  money  buys  our  wittles,  and  them  young 
gentlemen  wot  has  none,  goes  tick." 

Then  we  passed  a  poor  red-haired  usher  sitting  on  a  bench 
alone.  "  That's  Mr.  Hicks,  the  Husher,  ma'am,"  says  my  lord. 
"  We  keep  him,  for  he's  very  useful  to  throw  stones  at,  and  he 
keeps  the  chaps'  coats  when  there's  a  fight,  or  a  game  at  cricket. 
— Well,  Hicks,  how's  your  mother  1  what's  the  row  now .? " 
*'  I  believe,  my  lord,"  said  the  usher,  very  meekly,  "  there  is  a 
pugilistic  encounter  somewhere  on  the  premises — the  Honora- 
ble Mr.  Mac " 

"  Oh  !  cojue  along,"  said  Lord  Lollypop,  "  come  along  ;  this 
way,  ma'am  !  Go  it,  ye  cripples  ! "  And  my  lord  pulled  up 
my  dear  Jemmy's  gown  in  the  kindest  and  most  familiar  way, 
she  trotting  on  after  him,  mightily  pleased  to  be  so  taken  no- 
tice of,  and  I  after  her.  A  little  boy  went  running  across  the 
green.  "  Who  is  it,  Petitoes  ?  "  screams  my  lord.  "  Turk  and 
the  barber,"  pipes  Petitoes,  and  runs  to  the  pastry-cook's  like 

mad.     "  Turk  and  the  ba ,"  laughs  out  my  lord'  looking  at 

us.  '■'•  Hur7'a!  ////V  way,  ma'am  !  "  And  turning  round  a  cor- 
ner, he  opened  a  door  into  a  court-yard,  where  a  number  of 
boys  were  collected,  and  a  great  noise  of  shrill  voices  might 
be  heard.  "  Go  it,  Turk  !  "  says  one.  "  Go  it,  barber  !  "  says 
another.  "  Punch  hith  life  out !  "  roars  another,  whose  voice  was 
just  cracked,  and  his  clothes  half  a  yard  too  short  for  him  ! 

Fancy  our  horror  when,  on  the  crowd  making  way,  we  saw 
Tug  pummelling  away  at  the  Honorable  Master  MacTurk  !  My 
dear  Jemmy,  who  don't  understand  such  things,  pounced  upon 
the  two  at  once,  and,  with  one  hand  tearing  away  Tug,  sent  him 
back  into  the  arms  of  his  seconds,  while,  with  the  other,  she 
clawed  hold  of  Master  MacTurk's  red  hair,  and  as  soon  as  she 
got  her  second  hand  free,  banged  it  about  his  face  and  ears 
like  a  good  one. 

"  You  nasty — wicked  —  quarrelsome  —  aristocratic  '"'  (each 
word  was  a  bang) —  "  aristocratic — oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  "  — Here  the 
words  stopped  ;  for  what  with  the  agitation,  maternal  solicitude, 
and  a  dreadful  kick  on  the  shins  which,  I  am  ashamed  to  say, 
Master  MacTurk  administered,  my  dear  Jemmy  could  bear  it 
no  longer,  and  sunk  fainting  away  in  my  arms. 


D  O  WN  A  T  BEULAH.  3S3 


DOWN  AT  BEULAir, 

Although  there  was  a  regular  cut  between  the  next-doof 
people  and  us,  yet  Tug  and  the  Honorable  Master  MacTurk 
kept  up  their  acquaintance  over  the  back-garden  wall,  and  iu 
tiie  stables,  where  they  were  fighting,  making  friends,  and  play- 
ing tricks  from  morning  to  night,  during  the  holidays.  Indeed, 
it  was  from  young  Mac  that  we  first  heard  of  Madame  de 
Flicflac,  of  whom  my  Jemmy  robbed  Lady  Kilblazes,  as  I 
before  have  related.  When  our  friend  the  Baron  first  saw 
Madame,  a  very  tender  greeting  passed  between  them  ;  for  they 
had,  as  it  appeared,  been  old  friends  abroad.  "  Sapristie," 
said  the  Baron,  in  his  lingo,  "que  fais-tu  ici,  Ame'naide?  "  "  Et 
toi,  mon  pauvre  Chicot,"  says  she,  "est-ce  qu'on  t'a  mis  a  la 
retraite  .'  "  II  parait  qu  tu  n'est  plus  General  chez  Franco — " 
"  Chut!'''  says  the  Baron,  putting  his  finger  to  his  lips. 

"What  are  they  saying,  my  dear?"  says  my  wife  to  Jem- 
imarann,  who  had  a  pretty  knowledge  of  the  language  by  this 
time. 

"I  don't  know  what  ^  Saprlstie'  means,  mamma;  but  the 
Baron  asked  Madame  what  she  was  doing  here  ?  and  Madame 
said,  '  And  you,  Chicot,  you  are  no  more  a  General  at  Franco.' 
— Have  I  not  translated  rightly,  Madame  ? " 

"  Oui,  mon  chou,  mon  ange.  Yase,  my  angel,  my  cabbage, 
quite  right.  Figure  yourself,  I  have  known  my  dear  Chicot  dis 
twenty  years." 

"  Chicot  is  my  name  of  baptism,"  says  the  Baron  ;  "  Baron 
Chicot  de  Punter  is  my  name." 

"  And  being  a  General  at  Franco,"  says  Jemmy,  "means,  I 
suppose,  being  a  French  General  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  vas,"  said  he,  "  General  Baron  de  Punter — n'est  'a 
pas,  Amenaide  1 " 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Madame  Flicflac,  and  laughed;  and  I 
and  Jemmy  laughed  out  of  politeness :  and  a  pretty  laughing 
matter  it  was,  as  you  shall  hear. 

About  this  time  my  Jemmy  became  one  of  the  Lady-Patron- 
esses of  that  admirable  institution,  "The  Washerwoman's 
Orphans  Home  ;  "  Lady  de  Sudley  was  the  great  projector  of 
it  ;  and  the  manager  and  chaplain,  the  excellent  and  Reverend 
Sidney  Slopper.  His  salary,  as  chaplain,  and  that  of  Doctor 
Leitch,  the  physician  (both  cousins  of  her  ladyship's),  drew  awaj 


384  COX'S  DIARY. 

five  hundred  pounds  from  the  six  subscribed  to  the  Charity :  and 
Lady  de  Sudley  thought  a  fete  at  Beulah  Spa,  with  the  aid  of 
some  of  the  foreign  j^rinces  who  were  in  town  last  year,  might 
bring  a  little  more  money  into  its  treasury.  A  tender  appeal 
was  accordingly  drawn  up,  and  published  in  all  the  papers  : — ■ 

"  APPEAL. 

"BRITISH   WASHERWOMAN'S-ORPHANS'    HOME. 

*'  The  '  Washerwoman's-Orphans'  Home  '  has  now  been  es- 
tablished seven  years  :  and  the  good  which  it  has  effected  is,  it 
may  be  confidently  stated,  incalculable.  Ninety-eight  orphan 
children  of  Washerwomen  have  been  lodged  within  its  walls. 
One  hundred  and  two  British  Washerwomen  have  been  relieved 
when  in  the  last  state  of  decay.  One  hundred  and  ninety- 
eight  THOUSAND  articles  of  male  and  female  dress  have  been 
washed,  mended,  buttoned,  ironed,  and  mangled  in  the  Estab- 
lishment. And  by  an  arrangement  with  the  governors  of  the 
Foundling,  it  is  hoped  that  the  Baby-linen  of  that  Hospital 
will  be  confided  to  the  British  Washerwoman's  Home  ! 

"With  such  prospects  before  it,  is  it  not  sad,  is  it  not 
lamentable  to  think,  that  the  Patronesses  of  the  Society  have 
been  compelled  to  reject  the  applications  of  no  less  than  three 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  one  British  Washerwomen, 
from  lack  of  means  for  their  support.''  Ladies  of  England  ! 
Mothers  of  England  !  to  you  we  appeal.  Is  there  one  of  you 
that  will  not  respond  to  the  cry  in  behalf  of  these  deserving 
members  of  our  sex  ? 

"  It  has  been  determined  by  the  Ladies-Patronesses  to  give 
a  fete  at  Beulah  Spa,  on  Thursday,  July  25  ;  which  will  be 
graced  with  the  first  foreign  and  native  talent  ;  by  the  first 
foreign  and  native  rank  ;  and  where  they  beg  for  the  attend- 
ance of  every  washerwoman's  friend." 

Her  Highness  the  Princess  of  Schloppenzollernschwigma- 
ringen,  the  Duke  of  Sacks-Tubbingen,  His  Excellency  Baron 
Strumpff,  His  Excellency  Lootf-AUee-Koolee-Bismillah-Mo- 
hamed-Rusheed-Allah,  the  Persian  Ambassador,  Prince  Futtee- 
Jaw,  Envoy  from  the  King  of  Oude,  His  Excellency  Don 
Alonzo  di  Cachachero-y- Fandango -y-Castanete,  the  Spanish 
Ambassador,  Count  Ravioli,  from  Milan,  the  Envoy  of  the 
Republic  of  Topinambo,  and  a  host  of  other  fashionables,  prom- 
ised to  honor  the  festival  :  and  their  names  made  a  famous 
show  in  the  bills.     Besides  these,  we  had  the  celebrated  band 


DO  WN  A  T  BEULAH.  385 

of  Moscowmusiks,  the  seventy-seven  Transylvanian  trumpeters, 
and  the  famous  Bohemian  Minnesingers  ;  with  all  the  leading 
artists  of  London,  Paris,  the  Continent,  and  the  rest  of  Europe. 

I  leave  you  to  fancy  what  a  splendid  triumph  for  the  British 
Washerwoman's  Home  was  to  come  off  on  that  day.  A  beauti- 
ful tent  was  erected,  in  which  the  Ladies-Patronesses  were  to 
meet :  it  was  hung  round  with  specimens  of  the  skill  of  the 
washerwomen's  orphans  ;  ninety-six  of  whom  were  to  be  feasted 
in  the  gardens,  and  waited  on  by  the  Ladies-Patronesses. 

Well,  Jemmy  and  my  daughter.  Madam  de  Flicflac,  myself, 
the  Count  Baron  Punter,  Tug,  and  Tagrag,  all  went  down  in 
the  chariot,  and  barouche-and-four,  quite  eclipsing  poor  Lady 
Kilblazes  and  her  carriage-and-two. 

There  was  a  fine  cold  collation,  to  which  the  friends  of  the 
Ladies-Patronesses  were  admitted  ;  after  which,  my  ladies  and 
their  beaux  went  strolling  through  the  walks  ;  Tagrag  and  the 
Count  having  each  an  arm  of  Jemmy  ;  the  Baron  giving  an 
arm  apiece  to  Madame  and  Jemimarann.  Whilst  they  were 
walking,  whom  should  they  light  upon  but  poor  Orlando  Crump, 
my  successor  in  the  perfumery  and  hair-cutting. 

"  Orlando  !  "  says  Jemimarann,  blushing  as  red  as  a  label, 
and  holding  out  her  hand. 

"  Jemimar  !  "  says  he,  holding  out  his,  and  turning  as  white 
as  pomatum. 

"  Sir  !  "  says  Jemmy,  as  stately  as  a  duchess. 

"What!  madam,"  says  poor  Crump,  "  don't  you  remember 
your  shopboy .'' " 

"Dearest  mamma,  don't  you  recollect  Orlando  ?  "  whimpers 
Jemimarann,  whose  hand  he  had  got  hold  of. 

"  Miss  Tuggeridge  Coxe,"  says  Jemmy,  "  I'm  surprised  of 
you.  Remember,  sir,  that  our  position  is  altered,  and  oblige 
me  by  no  more  familiarity." 

"  Insolent  fellow  !  "  says  the  Baron,  "  vat  is  dis  canaille  ?  " 

"Canal  yourself,  Mounseer,"  says  Orlando,  now  grown 
quite  furious  :  he  broke  away,  quite  indignant,  and  was  soon 
lost  in  the  crowd.  Jemimarann,  as  soon  as  he  was  gone,  began 
to  look  very  pale  and  ill ;  and  her  mamma,  therefore,  took  her 
to  a  tent,  where  she  left  her  along  with  Madame  Flicfiac  and 
the  Baron  ;  going  off  herself  with  the  other  gentlemen,  in  order 
to  join  us. 

It  appears  they  had  not  been  seated  very  long,  when 
Madame  Flicflac  suddenly  sprung  up,  with  an  exclamation  of 
joy,  and  rushed  forward  to  a  friend  whom  she  saw  pass. 

The  Baron  was  left  alone  with  Jemimarann ;  and  whether 


386  COX'S  DIARY. 

it  was  the  champagne,  or  that  my  dear  girl  looked  more  than 
commonly  pretty,  I  don't  know ;  but  Madam  Flicflac  had  not 
been  gone  a  minute,  when  the  Baron  droj^ped  on  his  knees,  and 
made  her  a  regular  declaration. 

Poor  Orlando  Crump  had  found  me  out  by  this  time,  and 
'  was  standing  by  my  side,  listening,  as  melancholy  as  possible, 
'to  the  famous  Bohemian  Minnesingers,  who  were  singing  the 
celebrated  words  of  the  poet  Gothy : — 

"  Ich  bin  ya  hupp  lily  lee,  du  bist  ya  hupp  lily  lee, 

VVir  sind  doch  hupp  lily  lee,  hupp  la  lily  lee." 

"  Chorus — Yodle-odle-odle-odle-odle-odle  hupp !  yodle-odle-aw-o-o-o  !  " 

They  were  standing  with  their  hands  in  their  waistcoats,  as 
usual,  and  had  just  come  to  the  "  o-o-o,"  at  the  end  of  the 
chorus  of  the  forty-seventh  stanza,  when  Orlando  started : 
"  That's  a  scream  !  "  says  he.  "  Indeed  it  is,"  says  I  ;  "  and, 
but  for  the  fashion  of  the  thing,  a  very  ugly  scream  too  :  "  when 
I  heard  another  shrill  "  Oh !  "  as  I  thought ;  and  Orlando  bolt- 
ed off,  crying,  "  By  heavens,  it's  her  voice  !  "  "  Whose  voice  ?  " 
says  I,  "  Come  and  see  the  row,"  says  Tag.  And  off  we  went, 
with  a  considerable  number  of  people,  who  saw  this  strange 
move  on  his  part. 

We  came  to  the  tent,  and  there  we  found  my  poor  Jemimar- 
ann  fainting ;  her  mamma  holding  a  smelling-bottle  ;  the  Baron, 
on  the  ground,  holding  a  handkerchief  on  his  bleeding  nose ; 
and  Orlando  squaring  at  him,  and  calling  on  him  to  fight  if  he 
dared. 

My  Jemmy  looked  at  Crump  very  fierce.  "Take  that  feller 
away,"  says  she;  "he  has  insulted  a  French  nobleman,  and 
deserves  transportation,  at  the  least." 

Poor  Orlando  was  carried  off.  "I've  no  patience  with  the 
little  minx,"  says  Jemmy,  giving  Jemimarann  a  pinch.  "  She 
might  be  a  Baron's  lady;  and  she  screams  out  because  his 
Excellency  did  but  squeeze  her  hand." 

"Oh,  mamma!  mamma!"  sobs  poor  Jemimarann,  "but  he 
was  t-t-tipsy." 

"  T-t-tipsy !  and  the  more  shame  for  you,  you  hussy,  to  be 
offended  with  a  nobleman  who  does  not  know  what  he  is  doing." 


A  TOUK.VA.MENT  387 


A  TOURNAMENT. 

"  I  SAY,  Tug,"  said  Mac  Turk,  one  clay  soon  after  our  flare* 
up  at  Beulah,  "  Kilblazes  comes  of  age  in  October,  and  then 
we'll  cut  you  out,  as  I  told  you  :  the  old  barberess  will  die  of 
spite  when  she  hears  what  we  are  going  to  do.  What  do  you 
think  ?  we're  going  to  have  a  tournament !  "  "  What's  a  tour- 
nament?" says  Tug,  and  so  said  his  mamma  when  she  heard 
the  news ;  and  when  she  knew  what  a  tournament  was,  I  think, 
really,  she  was  as  angry  as  Mac  Turk  said  she  would  be,  and 
gave  us  no  peace  for  days  together.  "  What  I "  says  she, 
"dress  up  in  armor,  like  play-actors,  and  run  at  each  other 
with  spears  ?  The  Kilblazes  must  be  mad  !  "  And  so  I  thought, 
but  I  didn't  think  the  Tuggeridges  would  be  mad  too,  as  they 
were  :  for,  when  Jemmy  heard  that  the  Kilblazes'  festival  was 
to  be,  as  yet,  a  profound  secret,  what  does  she  do,  but  send 
down  to  the  Morning  Post  a  flaming  account  of 

"the  passage  of  arms  at  tuggeridgeville  ! 

'•  The  days  of  chivalry  are  not  past.  The  fair  Castellane  of 
T-gg-r-dgeville,  whose  splendid  entertainments  have  so  often 
been  alluded  to  in  this  paper,  has  determined  to  give  one,  which 
shall  exceed  in  splendor  even  the  magnificence  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  We  are  not  at  liberty  to  say  more ;  but  a  tournament, 
at  which  His  Ex-l-ncy  B-r-n  de  P-nt-r  and  Thomas  T-gr-g, 
Esq.,  eldest  son  of  Sir  Th — s  T-gr-g,  are  to  be  the  knights 
defendants  against  all  comers ;  a  Queen  of  Beauty,  of  whose 
loveliness  every  frequenter  of  fashion  has  felt  the  power;  a 
banquet,  unexampled  in  the  annals  of  Gunter  ;  and  a  ball  in 
which  the  recollections  of  ancient  chivalry  will  blend  sweetly 
with  the  soft  tones  of  Weippert  and  Collinet,  are  among  tha 
entertainments  which  the  Ladye  of  T-gg-ridgeville  has  pre 
pared  for  her  distinguished  guests." 

The  Baron  was  the  life  of  the  scheme  :  he  longed  to  be  ox\ 
horseback,  and  in  the  field  at  Tuggeridgeville,  where  he, 
Tagrag,  and  a  number  of  our  friends  practised  :  he  was  the  very 
best  tilter  present;  he  vaulted  over  his  horse,  and  plaA^ed  such 
wonderful  antics,  as  never  were  done  except  at  Ducrow's. 

And  now — oh  that  I  had  twenty  pages,  instead  of  this  shorv 


388  COX'S  DIARY. 

chapter,  to  describe  the  wonders  of  the  day ! — Twenty-fouf 
knights  came  from  Ashley's  at  two  guineas  a  head.  We  were 
in  hopes  to  have  had  Miss  Woolford  in  the  character  of  Joan 
of  Arc,  but  that  lady  did  not  appear.  We  had  a  tent  for  the 
challengers,  at  each  side  of  which  hung  what  they  called  es- 
coac/iings,  (like  hatchments,  which  they  put  up  when  people 
die,)  and  underneath  sat  their  pages,  holding  their  helmets  for 
the  tournament.  Tagrag  was  in  brass  armor  (my  City  con- 
nections got  him  that  famous  suit) ;  his  Excellency  in  polished 
steel.  My  wife  wore  a  coronet,  modelled  exactly  after  that  of 
Queen  Catherine,  in  "  Henry  V.  ;  "  a  tight  gilt  jacket,  which 
set  ofif  clear  Jemmy's  figure  wonderfully,  and  a  train  of  at  least 
forty  feet.  Dear  Jemimarann  was  in  white,  her  hair  braided  with 
pearls.  Madame  de  Flicflac  appeared  as  Queen  Elizabeth ; 
and  Lady  Blanche  Bluenose  as  a  Turkish  princess.  An  alder- 
man of  London  and  his  lady  ;  two  magistrates  of  the  county, 
and  the  very  pink  of  Croydon  ;  several  Polish  noblemen  ;  two 
Italian  counts  (besides  our  Count)  ;  one  hundred  and  ten 
young  officers,  from  Addiscombe  College,  in  full  uniform,  com- 
manded by  Major-General  Sir  Miles  Mulligatawney,  K.  C.  B., 
and  his  lady ;  the  Misses  Pimminy's  Finishing  Establishment, 
and  fourteen  young  ladies,  all  in  white  :  the  Reverend  Doctor 
Wapshot,  and  forty-nine  young  gentlemen,  of  the  first  families, 
under  his  charge — were  some  only  of  the  company.  I  leave  you 
to  fancy  that,  if  my  Jemmy  did  seek  for  fashion,  she  had  enough 
of  it  on  this  occasion.  They  wanted  me  to  have  mounted  again, 
but  my  hunting-day  had  been  sufficient :  besides,  I  ain't  big 
enough  for  a  real  knight :  so,  as  Mrs.  Coxe  insisted  on  my 
opening  the  Tournament — and  I  knew,  it  was  in  vain  to  resist 
— the  Baron  and  Tagrag  had  undertaken  to  arrange  so  that  I 
might  come  off  with  safety,  if  I  came  off  at  all.  They  had  pro- 
cured from  the  Strand  Theatre  a  famous  stud  of  hobby-horses, 
which  they  told  me  had  been  trained  for  the  use  of  the  great 
Lord  Bateman.  I  did  not  know  exactly  what  they  were  till 
they  arri\  ed  ;  but  as  they  had  belonged  to  a  lord,  I  thought  it 
was  all  right,  and  consented  ;  and  I  found  it  the  best  sort  of 
riding,  after  all,  to  appear  to  be  on  horseback  and  walk  safely 
afoot  at  the  same  time  ;  and  it  was  impussible  to  come  down 
as  long  as  I  kept  on  my  own  legs  :  besides,  I  could  cuff  and 
pull  my  steed  about  as  much  as  I  liked,  without  fear  of  his 
biting  or  kicking  in  return.  As  Lord  of  the  Tournament,  they 
placed  in  my  hands  a  lance,  ornamented  spirally,  in  blue  and 
gold  :  I  thought  of  the  pole  over  my  old  shop  door,  and  almost 
\Aished  myself  there  again,  as  I  capered  up  to  the  battle  in  my 


/f  TOURNAMENT  389 

helmet  and  breast-plate,  with  all  the  trumpets  blowing  and 
drums  beating  at  the  time.  Captain  Tagrag  was  my  opponent, 
and  preciously  we  poked  each  other,  till,  prancing  about,  I  put 
my  foot  on  my  horse's  petticoat  behind,  and  down  I  came,  get- 
ting a  thrust  from  the  Captain,  at  the  same  time,  that  almost 
broke  my  shoulder-bone.  "  This  was  sufficient,"  they  said, 
"  for  the  laws  of  chivalry ; "  and  I  was  glad  to  get  off  so. 

After  that  the  gentlemen  riders,  of  whom  there  were  no  less 
tthan  seven,  in  complete  armor,  and  the  professionals,  now  ran 
at  the  ring;  and  the  Baron  was  far,  far  the  most  skilful. 

"  How  sweetly  the  dear  Baron  rides,"  said  my  wife,  who 
was  always  ogling  at  him,  smirking,  smiling,  and  waving  her 
handkerchief  to  him.  "  I  say,  Sam,"  says  a  professional  to  one 
of  his  friends,  as,  after  their  course,  they  came  cantering  up, 
and  ranged  under  Jemmy's  bower,  as  she  called  it  : — "  I  say, 
Sam,  I'm  blowed  if  that  chap  in  harmer  mustn't  have  been  one 
of  hus."  And  this  only  made  Jemmy  the  more  pleased  ;  for 
the  fact  is,  the  Baron  had  chosen  the  best  way  of  winning 
Jemimarann  by  courting  her  mother. 

The  Baron  was  declared  conqueror  at  the  ring  ;  and  Jemmy 
awarded  him  the  prize,  a  wreath  of  white  roses,  which  she 
placed  on  his  lance ;  he  receiving  it  gracefully,  and  bowing, 
until  the  plumes  of  his  helmet  mingled  v.'ith  the  mane  of  his 
charger,  which  backed  to  the  other  end  of  the  lists  ;  then  gal- 
loping back  to  the  place  where  Jemimarann  was  seated,  he 
begged  her  to  place  it  on  his  helmet.  The  poor  girl  blushed 
very  much,  and  did  so.  As  all  the  people  were  applauding, 
Tagrag  rushed  up,  and,  laying  his  hand  on  the  Baron's  shoul- 
der, whispered  something  in  his  ear,  which  made  the  other 
very  angry,  I  suppose,  for  he  shook  him  off  violently.  "  Cha- 
cun  pour  soi,"  says  he,  "  Monsieur  de  Taguerague," — which 
means,  I  am  told,  "  Every  man  for  himself."  And  then  he 
rode  away,  throwing  his  lance  in  the  air,  catching  it,  and 
making  his  horse  caper  and  prance,  to  the  admiration  of  all 
beholders. 

After  this  came  the  "  Passage  of  Arms."  Tagrag  and  the 
Baron  ran  courses  against  the  other  champions;  ay,  and  un- 
horsed two  apiece  ;  whereupon  the  other  three  refused  to  turn 
out ;  and  preciously  we  laughed  at  them,  to  be  sure  ! 

"  Now,  it's  our  turn,  Mr.  Chicot"  says  Tagrag,  shaking  his 
fist  at  the  Baron  :  "  look  to  yourself,  you  infernal  mountebank, 
for,  by  Jupiter,  I'll  do  my  best !  "  And  before  Jemmy  and  the 
rest  of  us,  who  were  quite  bewildered,  could  say  a  word,  these 
two  friends  were  charging  away,  spears  in  hand,  ready  to  kill 


39° 


COX'S  DIARY. 


each  other.  In  vain  Jemmy  screamed  ;  in  vain  I  threw  down 
my  truncheon  :  they  had  broken  two  poles  before  I  could  say 
"  Jack  Robinson,"  and  were  driving  at  each  other  with  the  two 
new  ones.  The  Baron  had  the  worst  of  the  first  course,  for  he 
had  almost  been  carried  out  of  his  saddle.  "  Hark  you,  Chi- 
cot !  "  screamed  out  Tagrag,  "  next  time  look  to  your  head  !  " 
And  next  time,  sure  enough,  each  aimed  at  the  head  of  the 
other. 

Tagrag's  spear  hit  the  right  place  ;  for  it  carried '  off  the 
Baron's  helmet,  plume,  rose-wreath  and  all ;  but  his  Excellency 
hit  truer  still — his  lance  took  Tagrag  on  the  neck,  and  sent 
him  to  the  ground  like  a  stone. 

"  He's  won  I  he's  won  !  "  says  Jemmy,  waving  her  hand- 
kerchief ;  Jemimarann  fainted,  Lady  Blanche  screamed,  and  I 
felt  so  sick  that  I  thought  I  should  drop.  All  the  company 
were  in  an  uproar  :  only  the  Baron  looked  calm,  and  bowed 
very  gracefully,  and  kissed  his  hand  to  Jemmy ;  when,  all  of  a 
sudden,  a  Jewish-looking  man  springing  over  the  barrier,  and 
followed  by  three  more,  rushed  towards  the  Baron.  "  Keep 
the  gate.  Bob  !  "  he  holloas  out.  "  Baron,  I  arrest  you,  at  the 
suit  of  Samuel  Levison,  for " 

But  he  never  said  for  what ;  shouting  out,  "  Aha  !  "  and 
'■'■  Sapj'rrristic :'"  and  I  don't  know  what,  his  Excellency  drew 
his  sword,  dug  his  spurs  into  his  horse,  and  was  over  the  poor 
bailiff,  and  off  before  another  word.  He  had  threatened  to  run 
through  one  of  the  bailiff's  followers,  Mr.  Stubbs,  only  that 
gentleman  made  way  for  him  ;  and  when  we  took  up  the  bailiff, 
and  brought  him  round  by  the  aid  of  a  little  brandy-and-water, 
he  told  us  all.  "  I  had  a  writ  againsht  him,  Mishter  Coxsh, 
but  I  didn't  vant  to  shpoil  shport ;  and,  beshidesh,  I  didn't 
know  him  until  dey  knocked  off  his  shteel.cap  !" 

****** 

Here  was  a  pretty  business  ! 


OVERBOARDED  AND  UNDER-LODGED. 

We  had  no  great  reason  to  brag  of  our  tournament  at  Tug- 
geridgeville  :  but,  after  all,  it?  was  better  than  the  turn-out  at 
Kilblazes,  where  poor  Lord  Heydownderry  went  about  in  a 
black  velvet  dressing-gown,  and  the  Emperor  Napoleon  Bony- 
part  appeared  in  a  suit  of  armor  and  silk  stockings,  like  Mr. 


OVERBOARDED  AND  UNDER-LODGED. 


39 » 


Pell's  friend  in  Pickwick  ;  we,  having  employed  the  gentlemen 
from  Astley's  Antitheatre,  had  some  decent  sport  for  our 
money. 

We  never  heard  a  word  from  the  Baron,  who  had  so  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  his  horsemanship,  and  had  knocked 
down  (and  very  justly)  Mr.  Nabb,  the  bailiff,  and  Mr.  Stubbs, 
his  man,  who  came  to  lay  hands  upon  him.  My  sweet  Jemmy 
seemed  to  be  very  low  in  spirits  after  his  departure,  and  a  sad 
thing  it  is  to  see  her  low  in  spirits  :  on  days  of  illness  she  no 
more  minds  giving  Jemimarann  a  box  on  the  ear,  or  sending  a 
plate  of  muffins  across  a  table  at  poor  me,  than  she  does  taking 
her  tea. 

Jemmy,  I  say,  was  very  low  in  spirits  ;  but  one  day  (I  re- 
member it  was  the  day  after  Captain  Higgins  called,  and  said 
he  had  seen  the  Baron  at  Boulogne),  she  vowed  that  nothing 
but  change  of  air  would  do  her  good,  and  declared  that  she 
should  die  unless  she  went  to  the  sea-side  in  France.  I  knew 
what  this  meant,  and  that  I  might  as  well  attempt  to  resist  her 
as  to  resist  her  Gracious  Majesty  in  Parliament  assembled  ;  so 
I  told  the  people  to  pack  up  the  things,  and  took  four  places 
on  board  the  "  Grand  Turk  "  steamer  for  Boulogne. 

The  travelling  carriage,  which,  with  Jemmy's  thirty-seven 
boxes  and  my  carpet-bag,  was  pretty  well  loaded,  was  sent  on 
board  the  night  before  ;  and  we,  after  breakfasting  in  Portland 
Place  (little  did  I  think  it  was  the — but,  poh !  never  mind), 
went  down  to  the  Custom  House  in  the  other  carriage,  fol- 
lowed by  a  hackney-coach  and  a  cab,  with  the  servants,  and 
fourteen  bandboxes  and  trunks  more,  which  were  to  be  wanted 
by  my  dear  girl  in  the  journey. 

The  road  down  Cheapside  and  Thames  Street  need  not  be 
described :  we  saw  the  monument,  a  memento  of  the  wicked 
Popish  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew ;  why  erected  here  I  can't 
think,  as  St.  Bartholomew  is  in  Smithfield  ; — we  had  a  glimpse 
of  Billingsgate,  and  of  the  Mansion  House,  where  we  saw  the 
two-and-twenty-shilling-coal  smoke  coming  out  of  the  chimneys, 
and  were  landed  at  the  Custom  House  in  safety.  I  felt  melan- 
choly, for  we  were  going  among  a  people  of  swindlers,  as  all 
Frenchmen  are  thought  to  be  ;  and,  besides  not  being  able  to 
speak  the  language,  leaving  our  own  dear  country  and  honest 
countrymen. 

Fourteen  porters  came  out,  and  each  took  a  package  with 
the  greatest  civility ;  calling  Jemmy  her  ladyship,  and  me  your 
honor ;  ay,  and  your  honoring  and  my-ladysliipping  even  my 
man  and  the  maid  in  the  cab.     I  somehow  felt  all  over  quite 


392 


COX'S  D/AJ^Y. 


melancholy  at  going  away.  "  Here,  my  fine  fellow,"  says  I  to 
the  coachman,  who  was  standing  very  respectful,  holding  his 
hat  in  one  hand  and  Jemmy's  jewel-case  in  the  other — "  Here, 
my  fine  chap,"  says  I,  "  here's  six  shillings  for  you  :  "  for  I  did 
not  care  for  the  money. 

"  Six  what  ?  "  says  he. 

"  Six  shillings,  fellow,"  shrieks  Jemm}',  "  and  twice  as  much 
as  your  fare." 

"Feller,  marm!"  says  this  insolent  coachman.  "Feller 
yourself,  marm  :  do  you  think  I'm  a  going  to  kill  my  horses, 
and  break  my  precious  back,  and  bust  my  carriage,  and  carry 
5'ou,  and  your  kids,  and  your  traps,  for  six  hog  ?  "  And  with 
this  the  monster  dropped  his  hat,  with  my  money  in  it,  and 
doubling  his  fist,  put  it  so  very  near  my  nose  that  I  really 
thought  he  would  have  made  it  bleed.  "My  fare's  heighteen 
shillings,"  says  he,  "  hain't  it  ? — hask  hany  of  these  gentle- 
men." 

"  Why,  it  ain't  more  than  seventeen-and-six,"  says  one  of 
the  fourteen  porters  ;  "but  if  the  gen'i'man  /x  a  gen'l'man,  he 
can't  give  no  less  than  a  suffering  anyhow." 

I  wanted  to  resist,  and  Jemmy  screamed  like  a  Turk  ;  but, 
"  Holloa  !  "  says  one.  "  What's  the  row  ?  "  says  another. 
"  Come,  dub  up  !  "  roars  a  third.  And  I  don't  mind  telling 
you,  in  confidence,  that  I  was  so  frightened  that  I  took  out  the 
sovereign  and  gave  it.  My  man  and  Jemmy's  maid  had  dis- 
appeared by  this  time  :  they  always  do  when  there's  a  robbery 
or  a  row  going  on. 

I  was  going  after  them.  "  Stop,  Mr.  Ferguson,"  pipes  a 
young  gentleman  of  about  thirteen,  with  a  red  livery  waistcoat 
that  reached  to  his  ankles,  and  every  variety  of  button,  pin, 
string  to  keep  it  together,  "  Stop,  Mr.  Heff,"  says  he,  taking 
a  small  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  "  and  don't  forgit  the  cabman." 

"  What's  your  fare,  my  lad  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Why,  let's  see — yes — ho  ! — my  fare's  seven-and-thirty  and 
eightpence  eggs — acly." 

The  fourteen  gentlemen  holding  the  luggage,  here  burst 
out  and  laughed  very  rudely  indeed  ;  and  the  only-person  who 
seemed  disappointed  was,  I  thought,  the  hackney-coachman. 
"  Why,  yoji  rascal  !  "  says  Jemmy,  laying  hold  of  the  boy,  "  do 
you  want  more  than  the  coachman  ?  " 

"  Don't  rascal  fru;  marm  !  "  shrieks  the  little  chap  in  return. 
"  What's  the  coach  to  me  ?  Vy,  you  may  go  in  an  omlibus 
for  sixpence  if  you  like  ;  vy  don't  you  go  and  buss  it,  marm  ? 
Vy  did  you  call  my  cab,  marm ,?     Vy  am  I  to  come  forty  mil€^ 


OVERBOARDED  AND  UNDER-LODGED. 


393 


from  Scarlot  Street,  Po'trnd  Street,  Po'tl'ncl  Place,  and  not  git 
my  fare,  marm  ?  Come,  give  me  a  suffering  and  a  half,  and 
don't  keep  my  hoss  a-vaiting  all  day."  This  speech,  which 
takes  some  time  to  write  down,  was  made  in  about  the  fifth 
part  of  a  second ;  and,  at  the  end  of  it,  the  young  gentleman 
hurled  down  his  pipe,  and,  advancing  towards  Jemmy,  doubled 
his  fist,  and  seemed  to  challenge  her  to  fight. 
'  My  dearest  girl  now  turned  from  red  to  be  as  pale  as  white 
Windsor,  and  fell  into  my  arms.  What  was  I  to  do  ?  I  called 
"  Policeman  !  "  but  a  policeman  won't  interfere  in  Thames 
Street ;  robbery  is  licensed  there.  What  was  I  to  do  ?  Oh  ! 
my  heart  beats  with  paternal  gratitude  when  I  think  of  what 
my  Tug  did  ! 

As  soon  as  this  young  cab-chap  put  himself  into  a  fighting 
attitude.  Master  Tuggeridge  Coxe — who  had  been  standing  by 
laughing  very  rudely,  I  thought — Master  Tuggeridge  Coxe,  I 
say,  flung  his  jacket  suddenly  into  his  manmia's  face  (the  brass 
buttons  made  her  start  and  recovered  her  a  little),  and,  before 
we  could  say  a  word,  was  in  the  ring  in  which  we  stood,  (formed 
by  the  porters,  nine  orangemen  and  women,  I  don't  know  how 
many  newspaper-boys,  hotel-cads,  and  old-clothesmen,)  and, 
whirling  about  two  little  white  fists  in  the  face  of  the  gentle- 
man in  the  red  waistcoat,  who  brought  up  a  great  pair  of  black 
(Ones  to  bear  on  the  enemy,  was  engaged  in  an  instant. 

But  la  bless  you  !  Tug  hadn't  been  at  Richmond  School 
for  nothing  ;  and  milled  away — one,  two,  right  and  left — like  a 
little  hero  as  he  is,  with  all  his  dear  mother's  spirit  in  him. 
First  came  a  crack  which  sent  a  long  dusky  white  hat — that 
looked  damp  and  deep  like  a  well,  and  had  a  long  black  crape- 
rag  twisted  round  it — first  came  a  crack  which  sent  this  white 
hat  spinning  over  the  gentleman's  cab,  and  scattered  among 
the  crowd  a  vast  number  of  things  which  the  cabman  kept  in 
it, — such  as  a  ball  of  string,  a  piece  of  candle,  a  comb,  a  whip- 
lash, a  little  warbler,  a  slice  of  bacon,  &c.,  &c. 

The  cabman  seemed  sadly  ashamed  of  this  display,  but 
Tug  gave  him  no  time  :  another  blow  was  planted  on  his  cheek- 
bone ;  and  a  third,  which  hit  him  straight  on  the  nose  sent 
this  rude  cabman  straight  down  to  the  ground. 

"  Brayvo,  my  lord  !  "  shouted  all  the  people  around. 

"  I  won't  have  no  more,  thank  yer,"  said  the  little  cabman, 
gathering  himself  up.  "  Give  us  over  my  fare,  vil  yer,  and  let 
me  git  away  ?  " 

"  What's  your  fare  now,  you  cowardly  little  thief  ? "  says 
Tug. 


394 


COX'S  DIARY. 


"  Vy,  then,  two-and-eightpence,"  saj'^s  he.  "  Go  along,—* 
you  know  it  is  !  "  And  two-and-eightpence  he  had  ;  and  every^ 
body  applauded  Tug,  and  hissed  the  cab-boy,  and  asked  Tug 
for  something  to  drink.  We  heard  the  packet-bell  ringing,  and 
all  run  down  the  stairs  to  be  in  time. 

I  now  thought  our  troubles  would  soon  be  over  ;  mine  were, 
very  nearly  so,  in  one  sense  at  least :  for  after  Mrs.  Coxe  and 
Jemimarann,  and  Tug,  and  the  maid,  and  valet,  and  valuables . 
had  been  handed  across,  it  came  to  my  turn.  I  had  often  heard 
of  people  being  taken  up  by  a  PIa7ik,  but  seldom  of  their  being 
set  down  by  one.  Just  as  I  was  going  over,  the  vessel  rode  off 
a  little,  the  board  slipped,  and  down  I  soused  in  the  water. 
You  might  have  heard  Mrs.  Coxe's  shriek  as  far  as  Gravesend  ; 
it  rung  in  my  ears  as  I  went  down,  all  grieved  at  the  thought  of 
leaving  her  a  disconsolate  widder.  Well,  up  I  came  again,  and 
caught  the  brim  of  my  beaver-hat — though  I  have  heard  that 
drowning  men  catch  at  straws  : — I  floated,  and  hoped  to  escape 
by  hook  or  by  crook  :  and  luckil}'^,  just  then,  I  felt  myself  sud- 
denly jerked  by  the  waistband  of  my  whites,  and  found  myself 
hauled  up  in  the  air  at  the  end  of  a  boat-hook,  to  the  sound  of 
"  Yeho  !  yeho  !  yehoi !  yehoi !  "  and  so  I  was  dragged  aboard. 
I  was  put  to  bed,  and  had  swallowed  so  much  water  that  it  took 
a  very  considerable  quantity  of  brandy  to  bring  it  to  a  proper 
mixture  in  my  inside.  In  fact,  for  some  hours  I  was  in  a  very 
deplorable  state. 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT. 


Well,  we  arrived  at  Boulogne  ;  and  Jemmy,  after  making 
inquiries,  right  and  left,  about  the  Baron,  found  that  no  person 
was  known  there  ;  and  being  bent,  I  suppose,  at  all  events,  on 
marrying  her  daughter  to  a  lord,  she  determined  to  set  off  for 
Paris,  where,  as  he  had  often  said,  he  possessed  a  magnificent 

• hotel  he  called  it;  —  and    I  remembered  Jemmy  being 

mightily  indignant  at  the  idea:  but  hotel,  we  found  afterwards, 
means  only  a  house  in  French,  and  this  reconciled  her.  Need 
I  describe  the  road  from  Boulogne  to  Paris  ?  or  need  I  describe 
that  Capitol  itself?  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  we  made  our  appear- 
ance there,  at  ''  Murisse's  Hotel,"  as  became  the  family  of  Coxe 
Tuggeridge ;  and  saw  everything  worth  seeing  in  the  metrop* 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT.  3^^ 

olis  in  a  week.  It  nearly  killed  me,  to  be  sure  ;  but,  when 
you're  on  a  pleasure-party  in  a  foreign  countr}-,  you  must  not 
mind  a  little  inconvenience  of  this  sort. 

Well,  there  is,  near  the  city  of  Paris,  a  splendid  road  and 
row  of  trees,  which — I  don't  know  why — is  called  the  Shande- 
leezy,  or  Eh^sian  Fields,  in  French  :  others,  I  have  heard,  call 
it  the  Shandeleery ;  but  mine  I  know  to  be  the  correct  pronun- 
ciation. In  the  middle  of  this  Shandeleezy  is<in  open  space  of 
ground,  and  a  tent  where,  during  the  summer,  Mr.  Franconi, 
the  French  Ashle}',  performs  with  his  horses  and  things.  As 
ever\'body  went  there,  and  we  were  told  it  was  quite  the  thing, 
Jemmy  agreed  that  we  should  go,  too  ;  and  go  we  did. 

It's  just  like  Ashley's  :  there's  a  man  just  like  Mr.  Piddi- 
combe,  who  goes  round  the  ring  in  a  huzzah-dress,  cracking  a 
whip  ;  there  are  a  dozen  Miss  Woolfords,  who  appear  like  Polish 
princesses,  Dihannas,  Sultannas,  Cachuchas,  and  heaven  knows 
what !  There's  the  fat  man,  who  comes  in  with  the  twenty- 
three  dresses  on,  and  turns  out  to  be  the  living  skeleton  I 
There's  the  clowns,  the  sawdust,  the  white  horse  that  dances  a 
hornpipe,  the  candles  stuck  in  hoops,  just  as  in  our  own  dear 
country. 

My  dear  wife,  in  her  very  finest  clothes,  with  all  the  world 
looking  at  her,  was  really  enjoying  this  spectacle  (which  doesn't 
require  any  knowledge  of  the  language,  seeing  that  the  dumb 
animals  don't  talk  it),  when  there  came  in,  presently,  "the  great 
Polish  act  of  the  Sarmatian  horse-tamer,  on  eight  steeds," 
which  we  were  all  cf  us  longing  to  see.  The  horse-tamer,  to 
music  twenty  miles  an  hour,  rushed  in  on  four  of  his  horses, 
leading  the  other  four,  and  skurried  round  the  ring.  You 
couldn't  see  him  for  the  sawdust,  but  everybody  was  delighted, 
and  applauded  like  mad.  Presently,  you  saw  there  were  only 
three  horses  in  front :  he  had  slipped  one  more  between  his 
legs,  another  followed,  and  it  was  clear  that  the  consequences 
would  be  fatal,  if  he  admitted  any  more.  The  people  applauded 
more  than  ever ;  and  when,  at  last,  seven  and  eight  were  made 
to  go  in,  not  wholly,  but  sliding  dexterously  in  and  out,  with  the 
others,  so  that  you  did  not  know  which  was  which,  the  house, 
I  thought,  would  come  down  with  applause  ;  and  the  Sarma- 
tian horse-tamer  bowed  his  great  feathers  to  the  ground.  At 
last  the  music  grew  slower,  and  he  cantered  leisurely  round  the 
ring  ;  bending,  smirking,  seesawing,  waving  his  whip,  and  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  his  heart,  just  as  we  have  seen  the  Ashley's 
people  do.  But  fancy  our  astonishment  when,  suddenl}',  this 
Sarmatian  horse-tamer,  coming  round  with  his  four  pair  at  a 


396 


COX'S  DIARY. 


canter,  and  being  opposite  our  box,  gave  a  start,  and  a — liupp ! 
which  made  all  his  horses  stop  stock-still  at  an  instant ! 

"  Albert !  "  screamed  my  dear  Jemmy  :  "  Albert !  Bahbah- 
bah — baron  ! "  The  Sarmatian  looked  at  her  for  a  minute  ; 
and  turning  head  over  heels,  three  times,  bolted  suddenly  off 
his  horses,  and  away  out  of  our  sight. 

It  was  His  Excellency  the  Baron  de  Punter  ! 

Jemmy  went'  off  in  a  fit  as  usual,  and  we  never  saw  the 
Baron  again ;  but  we  heard,  afterwards,  that  Punter  was  an 
apprentice  of  Franconi's,  and  had  run  away  to  England,  think- 
ing to  better  himself,  and  had  joined  Mr.  Richardson's  army  ; 
but  Mr.  Richardson,  and  then  London,  did  not  agree  with  him  \ 
and  we  saw  the  last  of  him  as  he  sprung  over  the  barriers  at 
the  Tuggeridgeville  tournament. 

"  Well,  Jemimarann,"  says  Jemmy,  in  a  fury,  "  you  shall 
marry  Tagrag  ;  and  if  I  can't  have  a  baroness  for  a  daughter,  at 
least  you  shall  be  a  baronet's  lady."  Poor  Jemimarann  only 
sighed  :  she  knew  it  was  of  no  use  to  remonstrate. 

Paris  grew  dull  to  us  after  this,  and  we  were  more  eager 
than  ever  to  go  back  to  London  :  for  what  should  we  hear,  but 
that  that  monster,  Tuggeridge,  of  the  City — old  Tug's  black  son, 
forsooth  ! — was  going  to  contest  Jemmy's  claim  to  the  property, 
and  had  filed  I  don't  know  how  many  bills  against  us  in  Chan- 
cery !  Hearing  this,  v>'e  set  off  immediately,  and  we  arriv-ed  at 
Boulogne,  and  set  off  in  that  very  same  "  Grand  Turk  "  which 
had  brought  us  to  France. 

If  you  look  in  the  bills,  you  will  see  that  the  steamers  leave 
London  on  Saturday  morning,  and  Boulogne  on  Saturday  night  ; 
so  that  there  is  often  not  an  hour  between  the  time  of  arrival 
and  departure.  Bless  us  I  bless  us  !  I  pity  the  poor  CajDtain 
that,  for  twenty-four  hours  at  a  time,  is  on  a  paddle-box,  roar- 
ing out,  "  Ease  her  !  Stop  her  !  "  and  the  poor  servants,  who 
are  laying  out  breakfast,  lunch,  dinner,  tea,  supper  ; — breakfast, 
lunch,  dinner,  tea,  supper  again  ; — for  layers  upon  la3-ers  of 
travellers,  as  it  were  ;  and,  most  of  all,  I  pity  that  unhappy 
steward  with  those  unfortunate  tin-basins  that  he  must  always 
keep  an  eye  over.  Little  did  we  know  what  a  storm  was 
brooding  in  our  absence  ;  and  little  were  we  prepared  for  the 
awful,  awful  fate  that  hung  over  our  Tuggeridgeville  property. 

Biggs,  of  the  great  house  of  Higgs,  Biggs,  and  Blatherwick, 
was  our  man  of  business  :  when  I  arrived  in  London  I  heard 
that  he  had  just  set  off  to  Paris  after  me.  So  we  started  down 
to  Tuggeridgeville  instead  of  going  to  Portland  Place.  As  we 
came  through  the  lodge-gates,  we  found  a  crowd  assembled 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT.  3(^7 

wilhin  them  ;  and  there  was  that  horrid  Tuggeridge  on  horse- 
back,  with  a  shabby-looking  man,  called  Mr.  Scapgoat,  and  his 
man  of  business,  and  many  more.  "  Mr.  Scapgoat,"  says 
Tuggeridge,  grinning,  and  handing  him  o\er  a  sealed  paper, 
"  here's  the  lease  ;  1  leave  you  in  possession,  and  wish  you 
good-morning." 

"  In  possession  of  what  1  "  says  the  rightful  lady  of  Tug- 
geridgeville,  leaning  out  of  the  carriage-window.  She  hated 
black  Tuggeridge,  as  she  called  him,  like  poison  :  the  very 
first  week  of  our  coming  to  Portland  Place,  when  he  called  to 
ask  restitution  of  some  plate  which  he  said  was  his  private 
property,  she  called  him  a  base-born  blackamoor,  and  told  him 
to  quit  the  house.  Since  then  there  had  been  law-squabbles 
between  us  without  end,  and  all  sorts  of  writings,  meetings, 
and  arbitrations. 

"  Possession  of  my  estate  of  Tuggeridgeville,  madam," 
roars  he,  "  left  me  by  my  father's  will,  wdiich  you  have  had 
notice  of  these  three  weeks,  and  kno\y  as  well  as  I  do." 

"Old  Tug  left  no  will,"  shrieked  Jemmy;  "he  didn't  die 
to  leave  his  estates  to  blackamoors — to  negroes — to  base-born 
mulatto  story-tellers  ;  if  he  did,  may  I  be " 

"Oh,  hush!  dearest  mamma,"  says  Jemimarann.  "  Go  it 
again,  mother !  "  says  Tug,  who  is  always  sniggering. 

"  What  is  this  business,  Mr.  Tuggeridge  .-* "  cried  Tagrag 
(who  was  the  only  one  of  our  party  that  had  his  senses). 
"  What  is  this  will  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  merely  a  matter  of  form,"  said  the  lawyer,  riding 
up.  "  For  heaven's  sake,  madam,  be  peaceable  ;  let  my  friends, 
Higgs,  Biggs,  and  Blatherwick,  arrange  with  me.  I  am  sur- 
prised that  none  of  their  people  are  here.  All  that  you  have 
to  do  is  to  eject  us  ;  and  the  rest  will  follow,  of  course." 

"Who  has  taken  possession  of  this  here  property?"  roars 
Jemmy,  again. 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Scapgoat,"  said  the  lawyer. — Mr.  Scap- 
goat grinned. 

"  Mr.  Scapgoat,"  said  my  wife,  shaking  her  fist  at  him  (for 
she  is  a  woman  of  no  small  spirit),  "  if  you  don't  leave  this 
ground,  Til  have  you  pushed  out  with  pitchforks,  I  will — you 
and  your  beggarly  blackamoor  yonder."  And,  suiting  the  ac- 
tion to  the  word,  she  clapped  a  stable  fork  into  the  hands  of 
one  of  the  gardeners,  and  called  another,  armed  with  a  rake, 
to  his  help,  while  young  Tug  set  the  dog  at  their  heels,  and  I 
hurrahed  for  joy  to  see  such  villany  so  properly  treated. 

"  That's  suthcient,  ain't  it  ?  "  said  Mr.  Scapgoat,  with  the 
26 


3g8  COX'S  DIARY. 

calmest  air  in  the  world.  "  Oh,  completely,"  said  the  lawyer. 
"  Mr.  Tuggeridge,  we've  ten  miles  to  dinner.  Madam,  youi 
very  humble  servant."  And  the  whole  posse  of  them  rode 
away. 


LAW  LIFE   ASSURANCE. 


We  knew  not  what  this  meant,  until  we  received  a  strange 
document  from  Higgs,  in  London — which  begun,  "  Middlesex, 
to  wit.  Samuel  Cox,  late  of  Portland  Place,  in  the  city  of 
Westminster,  in  the  said  county,  was  attached  to  answer  Sam- 
uel Scapgoat,  of  a  plea,  wherefore,  with  force  and  arms,  he 
entered  into  one  messuage,  with  the  apixirtenances,  which  John 
Tuggeridge,  Esq.,  demised  to  the  said  Samuel  Scapgoat,  for  a 
term  which  is  not  yet  expired,  and  ejected  him."  And  it  went 
on  to  say  that  "  we,  with  force  of  arms,  viz. :  with  swords,  knives, 
and  staves,  had  ejected  him."  Was  there  ever  such  a  mon- 
strous falsehood  ?  when  we  did  but  stand  in  defence  of  our 
own  ;  and  isn't  it  a  sin  that  we  should  have  been  turned  out  of 
our  rightful  possessions  upon  such  a  rascally  plea  ? 

Higgs,  Biggs,  and  Blatherwick  had  evidently  been  bribed  ; 
for — would  you  believe  it  ? — they  told  us  to  give  up  possession 
at  once,  as  a  will  was  found,  and  we  could  not  defend  the 
action.  My  Jemmy  refused  their  proposal  with  scorn,  and 
laughed  at  the  notion  of  the  will  :  she  pronounced  it  to  be  a 
forgery,  a  vile  blackamoor  forgery;  and  believes,  to  this  day, 
that  the  story  of  its  having  been  made  thirty  years  ago,  in  Cal- 
cutta, and  left  there  with  old  Tug's  papers,  and  found  there, 
and  brought  to  England,  after  a  search  made,  by  order' of  Tug- 
geridge junior,  is  a  scandalous  falsehood. 

Well,  the  cause  was  tried.  Why  need  I  say  anything  con- 
cerning it  ?  What  shall  I  say  of  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  but 
that  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of   the  wig  he  sits   in  }     What  of 

Mr. and   Mr. ,  who  exerted  their  eloquence   against 

justice  and  the  poor  ?  On  our  side,  too,  was  no  less  a  man 
than  Mr.  Serjeant  Pinks,  who,  ashamed  I  am,  for  the  honor  of 
the  British  bar,  to  say  it,  seemed  to  have  been  bribed  too :  for 
he  actually  threw  up  his  case  !  Had  he  behaved  like  Mr.  Mul- 
ligan, his  junior — and  to  whom,  in  this  humble  way,  I  offer  my 
thanks — all  might  have  been  well.  I  never  knew  such  an  effect 
produced,  as  when  Mr.  Mulligan,  appearing  for  the  first  time 
in  that  court,  said,  "  Standing  here,  upon  the  pidestal  of  secred 


LA  IV  LIFE  INSURANCE. 


399 


Thaniis  ;  seeing  around  me  the  arn3'mints  of  a  profission  I  ris- 
l)ict;  having  before  me  a  vinnerable  judge,  and  an  elightencd 
jury — the  counthry's  glory,  the  netion's  cheap  defender,  the 
poor  man's  priceless  palladium  ;  how  must  I  thrimble,  my  lard, 
how  must  the  blush  loejew  my  cheek — "  (somebody  cried  out, 
•'  O  chcx-ks  f"  In  the  court  there  was  a  dreadful  roar  of  laugh- 
ing; and  when  order  was  established,  Mr.  Mulligan  continued:) 
• — ''  My  lard,  I  heed  them  not ;  I  come  from  a  counthry  accus- 
tomed to  opprission,  and  as  that  counthry — yes,  my  lard,  i/ial 
Ireland — (do  not  laugh,  I  am  proud  of  it) — is  ever,  in  spite  of 
of  her  tyrants,  green,  and  lovely,  and  beautiful :  my  client's 
cause,  likewise,  will  rise  shuperior  to  the  malignant  imbecility 
— I  repeat,  the  malignant  imbecility — of  those  who  would 
thrample  it  down  ;  and  in  whose  teeth,  in  my  client's  name,  in 
my  counthry's — ay,  and  my  own — I,  with  folded  arrums,  hurl  a 
scarnful  and  eternal  defiance  !  " 

"For  heaven's  sake,  Mr.  Milligan  " — (Mulligan,  me  lard," 
cried  my  defender) — "  Well,  Mulligan,  then,  be  calm,  and  keep 
to  your  brief." 

Mr.  Mulligan  did  ;  and  for  three  hours  and  a  quarter,  in  a 
speech  crammed  with  Latin  quotations,  and  unsurpassed  foi 
eloquence,  he  explained  the  situation  of  me  and  my  family  ;  the 
romantic  manner  in  which  Tuggeridge  the  elder  gained  his  for- 
tune, and  by  which  it  afterwards  came  to  my  wife  ;  the  state 
of  Ireland  ;  the  original  and  virtuous  poverty  of  the  Coxes — 
from  which  he  glanced  passionately,  for  a  few  minutes  (until 
the  judge  stopped  him),  to  the  poverty  of  his  own  country ; 
my  excellence  as  a  husband,  father,  landlord  ;  my  wife's,  as 
a  wife,  mother,  landlady.  All  was  in  vain — the  trial  went 
ia2;ainst  us.  I  was  soon  taken  in  execution  for  the  damages; 
live  hundred  pounds  of  law  expenses  of  my  own,  and  as  much 
more  of  Tuggeridge's.  He  would  not  pay  a  farthing,  he  said, 
to  get  me  out  of  a  much  worse  place  than  the  Fleet.  I  need 
not  tell  you  that  along  with  the  land  went  the  house  in  town, 
and  the  money  in  the  funds.  Tuggeridge,  he  who  had  thou- 
sands before,  had  it  all.  And  when  I  was  in  prison,  who  do  you 
think  would  come- and  see  me .?  None  of  the  Barons,  nor 
Counts,  nor  Foreign  Ambassadors,  nor  Excellencies,  who  used 
to  fill  our  house,  and  eat  and  drink  at  our  expense, — not  even 
the  ungrateful  Tagrag ! 

I  could  not  help  now  saying  to  my  dear  wife,  "  See,  my  love, 
we  have  been  gendefolks  for  exactly  a  year,  and  a  pretty  life 
we  have  had  of  it.  In  the  first  place,  my  darling,  we  gave 
grand  dinners,  and  everybody  laughed  at  us." 


400  COX'S  DIARY. 

"  Yes,  and  recollect  how  ill  they  made  you,"  cries  m;^ 
d;  iii;"hter. 

'•  We  asked  great  company,  and  they  insulted  us." 

"  And  spoilt  mamma's  temper,"  said  Jemimarann. 

"  Hush  !  Miss,"  said  her  mother  ;  '"  we  don't  want  youf 
advice." 

"  Then  you  must  make  a  country  gentleman  of  me." 

"  And  send  Pa  into  dunghills,"  roared  Tug. 

"  Then  you  must  go  to  operas,  and  pick  up  foreign  Barons 
and  Counts." 

"Oh,  thank  heaven,  dearest  papa,  that  we  are  rid  of  them," 
cries  my  little  Jemimarann,  looking  almost  happy,  and  kissing 
her  old  pappy. 

"iVnd  you  must  make  a  fine  gentleman  of  Tug  there,  and 
send  him  to  a  fine  school.  ' 

"  And  I  give  you  my  word,"  says  Tug,  "  I'm  as  ignorant  a 
chap  as  ever  lived." 

"  You're  an  insolent  saucebox,"  says  Jemmy ;  "  you've 
learned  that  at  your  fine  school." 

"I've  learned  something  else,  too,  ma'am  ;  ask  the  boys  if 
I  haven't,"  grumbles  Tug. 

"You  hawk  your  daughter  about,  and  just  escape  marrying 
her  to  a  swindler." 

"And  drive  off  poor  Orlando,"  whimpered  my  girl. 

"  Silence  !  Miss,"  says  Jemmy,  fiercely. 

"  You  insult  the  man  whose  father's  property  you  inherited, 
and  bring  me  into  this  prison,  without  hope  of  leaving  it :  for 
he  never  can  help  us  after  all  your  bad  language."  I  said  all 
this  very  smartly  ;  for  the  fact  is,  my  blood  was  up  at  the  time, 
and  I  determined  to  rate  my  dear  girl  soundly. 

"  Oh  !  Sammy,"  said  she,  sobbing  (for  the  poor  thing's  spirit 
was  quite  broken),  "  it's  all  true  ;  I've  been  very,  very  foolish 
and  vain,  and  I've  punished  my  dear  husband  and  children  by 
my  follies,  and  I  do  so,  so  repent  them  1 "  Here  Jemimarann 
at  once  burst  out  crying,  and  flung  herself  into  her  mamma's 
arms,  and  the  pair  roared  and  sobbed  for  ten  minutes  together. 
Even  Tug  looked  queer :  and  as  for  me,  it's  a  most  extraordi- 
nary thing,  but  I'm  blest  if  seeing  them  so  miserable  didn't 
make  me  quite  happy. — I  don't  think,  for  the  whole  twelve 
months  of  our  good  fortune,  I  had  ever  felt  so  gay  as  in  that 
dismal  room  in  the  Fleet,  where  I  was  locked  up. 

Poor  Orlando  Crump  came  to  see  us  every  day ;  and  we, 
who  had  never  taken  the  slightest  notice  of  him  in  Portland 
Place,  and  treated  him  so  cruelly  that  day  at  Beulah  Spa,  were 


MR.    ALTAMONT'S    evening    PARTY.  —  MR.   YELLOWPLUSH    liRINGS 
REFRESHMENTS   TO   THE   LADIES. 


FAMILY  BUSTLE. 


40 1 


only  too  glad  of  his  company  now.  He  used  to  bring  books 
for  my  little  girl,  and  a  bottle  of  sherry  for  me  :  and  he  used 
to  take  home  Jemmy's  fronts  and  dress  them  for  her ;  and  when 
locking-up  time  came,  he  used  to  see  the  ladies  home  to  their 
little  three-pair  bedroom  in  Holborn,  where  they  slept  now, 
Tug  and  all.  "  Can  the  bird  forget  its  nest  ?  "  Orlando  used 
to  say  (he  was  a  romantic  young  fellow,  that's  the  truth,  and 
blew  the  flute  and  read  Lord  Byron  incessantl}^,  since  he  was 
separated  from  Jemimarann).  "  Can  the  bird,  let  loose  in  east- 
ern climes,  forget  its  home  \  Can  the  rose  cease  to  remember 
its  beloved  bulbul  1 — Ah,  no !  Mr.  Cox,  you  made  me  what  I 
am,  and  what  I  hope  to  die — a  hairdresser.  I  never  see  a  curl- 
ing-irons before  I  entered  3^our  shop,  or  knew  Naples  from  brown 
Windsor.  Did  you  not  make  over  your  house,  your  furniture, 
your  emporium  of  perfumery,  and  nine-and-twenty  shaving 
customers,  to  me  ?  Are  these  trifles.''  Is  Jemimarann  a  trifle  ? 
if  she  would  allow  me  to  call  her  so.  Oh,  Jemimarann,  your  Pa 
found  me  in  the  workhouse,  and  made  me  what  I  am.  Con- 
duct me  to  my  grave,  and  I  never,  never  shall  be  different !  " 
When  he  had  said  this,  Orlando  was  so  much  affected,  that  he 
rushed  suddenly  on  his  hat  and  quitted  the  room. 

Then  Jemimarann  began  to  cry  too.  "  Oh,  Pa  !  "  said  she, 
*'  isn't  he — isn't  he  a  nice  young  man  ?  " 

"  I'm  hanged  if  he  ain't,"  says  Tug.  "  What  do  you  think 
of  his  giving  me  eighteenpence  yesterday,  and  a  bottle  of 
lavender-water  for  Mimarann  ?  " 

"  He  might  as  well  offer  to  give  you  back  the  shop  at  any 
rate,"  says  Jemmy. 

"  What !  to  pay  Tuggeridge's  damages  ?  My  dear,  I'd 
sooner  die  than  give  Tuggeridge  the  chance." 


FAMILY  BUSTLE. 

Tuggeridge  vowed  that  I  should  finish  my  days  there,  when 
he  put  me  in  prison.  It  appears  that  we  both  had  reason  to  be 
ashamed  of  ourselves  ;  and  were,  thank  God  !  I  learned  to 
be  sorry  for  my  bad  feelings  towards  him,  and  he  actually 
wrote  to  me  to  say — 

"  Sir, — 1  think  you  have  suffered  enough  for  faults  which, 


^02  COX'S  DIARY. 

I  believe,  clo  not  He  with  you,  so  much  as  your  wife  ;  and  I  have 
withdrawn  my  claims  which  I  had  against  you  while  you  were 
in  wrongful  possession  of  my  father's  estates.  You  must  re- 
member that  when,  on  examination  of  my  father's  papers,  no 
will  was  found,  I  yielded  up  his  property,  with  perfect  willing- 
ness, to  those  who  I  fancied  were  his  legitimate  heirs.  For  this 
I  received  all  sorts  of  insults  from  your  wife  and  yourself  (who 
acquiesced  in  them)  ;  and  when  the  discovery  of  a  will,  in  India, 
proved  7ny  just  claims,  you  must  remember  how  they  were  met, 
and  the  vexatious  proceedings  with  which  you  sought  to  oppose 
them. 

"  I  have  discharged  your  lawyer's  bill ;  and,  as  I  believe  you 
are  more  fitted  for  the  trade  you  formerly  exercised  than  for 
any  other,  I  will  give  five  hundred  pounds  for  the  purchase  of 
a  stock  and  shop,  when  you  shall  find  one  to  suit  you. 

'•  I  enclose  a  draft  for  twenty  pounds,  to  meet  your  present 
expenses.  You  have,  I  am  told,  a  son,  a  boy  of  some  spirit : 
if  he  likes  to  try  his  fortune  abroad,  and  go  on  board  an  India- 
man,  I  can  get  him  an  appointment ;  and  am.  Sir,  your  obedient 
servant, 

"John  Tuggeridge." 

It  was  Mrs,  Breadbasket,  the  housekeeper,  who  brought 
this  letter,  and  looked  mighty  contemptuous  as  she  gave  it. 

"  I  hope,  Breadbasket,  that  your  master  will  send  me  my 
things  at  any  rate,"  cries  Jemmy.  There's  seventeen  silk  and 
satin  dresses,  and  a  whole  heap  of  trinkets,  that  can  be  of  no 
earthly  use  to  him." 

"  Don't  Breadbasket  me,  mem,  if  you  please,  mem.  My 
master  says  that  them  things  is  quite  obnoxious  to  your  sphere 
of  life.     Breadbasket,  indeed  !  "     And  so  she  sailed  out. 

Jemmy  hadn't  a  word  ;  she  had  grown  mighty  quiet  since 
we  iiad  been  in  misfortune  :  but  my  daughter  looked  as  happy 
as  a  queen  ;  and  Tug,  when  he  heard  of  the  ship,  gave  a  jump 
that  nearly  knocked  down  poor  Orlando.  "Ah,  I  suppose 
you'll  forget  me  now?"  says  he,  with  a  sigh;  and  seemed  the 
only  unhappy  person  in  the  company. 

"  Why,  you  conceive,  Mr.  Crump,"  says  my  wife,  with  a 
great  deal  of  dignity,  "  that  connected  as  we  are,  a  young  man 
born  in  a  work " 

"  Woman  !  "  cried  I  (for  once  in  my  life  determined  to  have 
my  own  way),  "  hold  your  foolish  tongue.  Your  absurd  pride 
has  been  the  ruin  of  us  hitherto ;  and,  from  this  day,  I'll  have 
no  more  of  it.     Hark  ye,  Orlando,  if  you  will  take  Jemimarann, 


FAMILY  BUSTLE. 


403 


you  may  have  her ;  and  if  you'll  take  five  hundred  pounds  for 
a  half  share  of  the  shop,  they're  yours;  and  thafs  for  you, 
Mrs.  Cox." 

And  here  we  are,  back  again.  And  I  write  this  from  the 
old  back  shop,  where  we  are  all  waiting  to  see  the  new  year  in. 
Orlando  sits  yonder,  plaiting  a  wig  for  my  Lord  Chief  Justice, 
as  happy  as  may  be ;  and  Jemimarann  and  her  mother  have 
been  as  busy  as  you  can  imagine  all  day  long,  and  are  just  now 
giving  the  finishing  touches  to  the  bridal-dresses  :  for  the  wed- 
ding is  to  take  place  the  day  after  to-morrow.  I've  cut  seven- 
teen heads  off  (as  I  say)  this  very  day ;  and  as  for  Jemmy,  I 
no  more  mind  her  than  I  do  the  Emperor  of  China  and  all  his 
Tambarins.  Last  night  we  had  a  merry  meeting  of  our  friends 
and  neighbors,  to  celebrate  our  reappearance  among  them  ;  and 
very  m.erry  we  all  were.  We  had  a  capital  fiddler,  and  we  kept 
it  up  till  a  pretty  tidy  hour  this  morning.  We  begun  with  quad- 
rilles, but  I  never  could  do  'em  well ;  and  after  that,  to  please 
Mr,  Crump  and  his  intended,  we  tried  a  gallopard,  which  I 
found  anything  but  easy ;  for  since  I  am  come  back  to  a  life  of 
peace  and  comfort,  it's  astonishing  how  stout  I'm  getting.  So 
we  turned  at  once  to  what  Jemmy  and  me  excels  in — a  country 
dance  ;  which  is  rather  surprising,  as  we  was  both  brought  up 
to  a  town  life.  As  for  young  Tug,  he  showed  off  in  a  sailor's 
hornpipe  :  which  Mrs.  Cox  says  is  very  proper  for  him  to  learn, 
now  he  is  intended  for  the  sea.  But  stop  !  here  comes  in  the 
punchbowl;  and  if  we  are  not  happy,  who  is?  I  say  I  am 
like  the  Swiss  people,  for  I  can't  flourish  out  of  my  native  //a/r. 


THE  MEMOIRS  OP 

MR.  CHARLES  J.  YELLOWPLUSH. 


THE   MEMOIRS 

OF 

MR.  C  J.  YELLOWPLUSH, 

SOMETIME  FOOTMAN  IN  MANY  GENTEEL  FAMILIES. 


MJSS  SffUM'S  HUSBAND. 


Chapter   I. 

I  WAS  born  in  the  year  one,  of  the  present  or  Christian  hera, 
and  am,  in  consquints,  seven-and-thirty  years  old.  My  mamma 
called  me  Charles  James  Harrington  Fitzroy  Yellowplush,  in 
compliment  to  several  noble  families,  and  to  a  sellybrated 
coachmin  whom  she  knew,  who  wore  a  yellow  livry,  and  dro\e 
the  Lord  Mayor  of  London. 

Why  she  gev  me  this  genlmn's  name  is  a  diffiklty,  or  rayther 
the  name  of  a  part  of  his  dress  ;  however,  it's  stuck  to  me 
through  life,  in  which  I  was,  as  it  were,  a  footman  by  buth. 

Praps  he  was  my  father — though  on  this  subjict  I  can't 
speak  suttinly,  for  my  ma  wrapped  up  my  buth  in  a  mistry.  I 
maybe  illygitmit,  I  may  have  been  changed  at  nuss ;  but  I've 
always  had  genlmnly  tastes  through  life,  and  have  no  doubt 
that  I  come  of  a  genlmnly  origum. 

The  less  I  say  about  my  parint  the  better,  for  the  dear  old 
creatur  was  very  good  to  me,  and,  I  fear,  had  very  little  other 
goodness  in  her.  Why,  1  can't  say  ;  but  I  always  passed  as 
her  nevyon.  We  led  a  strange  life  ;  sometimes  ma  was  dressed 
in  sattn  and  rooge,  and  sometimes  in  rags  and  dutt  ;  sometimes 

W07) 


4o8         TH^  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C  J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

I  got  kisses,  and  sometimes  kix  ;  sometimes  gin,  and  some 
times  shampang  ;  law  bless  us !  how  she  used  to  swear  at  me, 
and  cuddle  me  ;  there  we  were,  quarrelling  and  making  up, 
sober  and  tipsy,  starving  and  guttling  by  turns,  just  as  ma  got 
money  or  spent  it.  But  let  me  draw  a  vail  over  the  seen,  and 
speak  of  her  no  more — its  'sfishant  for  the  public  to  know  that 
her  name  was  Miss  Montmorency,  and  we  lived  in  the  New  Cut. 

My  poor  mother  died  one  morning,  Hev'n  bless  her  !  and  I 
was  left  alone  in  this  wide  wicked  wuld,  without  so  much  money 
as  would  buy  me  a  penny  roal  for  my  brexfast.  But  there  was 
some  amongst  our  naybors  (and  let  me  tell  you  there's  more 
kindness  among  them  poor  disrepettable  creaturs  than  in  half- 
a-dozen  lords  or  barrynets)  who  took  pity  upon  poor  Sal's 
orfin  (for  they  bust  out  lafifin  when  I  called  her  Miss  Mont- 
morency), and  gev  me  bred  and  shelter.  I'm  afraid,  in  spite 
of  their  kindness,  that  my  morrils  wouldn't  have  improved  if  I'd 
stayed  long  among  'em.  But  a  benny-violent  genlmn  saw  me, 
and  put  me  to  school.  The  academy  which  I  went  to  was 
called  the  Free  School  of  Saint  Bartholomew's  the  Less — the 
young  genlmn  wore  green  baize  coats,  yellow  leather  whatsis- 
names,  a  tin  plate  on  the  left  arm,  and  a  cap  about  the  size  of 
a  muffing.  I  stayed  there  sicks  years  ;  from  sicks,  th~at  is  to 
say,  till  my  twelth  year,  during  three  years  of  witch  I  distin- 
guished myself  not  a  little  in  the  musicle  way,  for  I  bloo  the 
bellus  of  the  church  horgin,  and  very  fine  tunes  we  played  too. 

Well,  it's  not  worth  recounting  my  jewvenile  follies  (what 
trix  we  used  to  play  the  apple-woman  !  and  how  we  put  snuff  in 
the  old  dark's  Prayer-book — my  eye  !)  ;  but  one  day,  a  genlmn 
entered  the  schoolroom — it  was  on  the  very  day  when  I  went  to 
subtraxion — and  asked  the  master  for  a  young  lad  for  a  servant. 
They  pitched  upon  me  glad  enough ;  and  next  day  found  me 
sleeping  in  the  sculry,  close  under  the  sink,  at  Mr.  Bago's 
country-house  at  Pentonwille. 

Bago  kep  a  shop  in  Smithfield  market,  and  drov  a  taring 
good  trade  in  the  hoil  and  Italian  way.  I've  heard  him  say, 
that  he  cleared  no  less  than  fifty  pounds  every  year  by  letting 
his  front  room  at  hanging  time.  His  winders  looked  right  opsit 
Newgit,  and  many  and  many  dozen  chaps  has  he  seen  hanging 
there.  Laws  was  laws  in  the  year  ten,  and  they  screwed  chaps' 
nex  for  nex  to  nothink.  But  my  bisniss  was  at  his  country- 
house,  where  I  made  my  first  ontray  into  fashnabl  life.  I  was 
knife,  errint,  and  stable-boy  then,  and  an't  ashamed  to  own  it ; 
for  my  merrits  have  raised  me  to  wliat  I  am — two  livries,  forty 
pound  a  year,  malt-licker,  washin,  silk-stocking,  and  wax  candles 


M/SS  SHU3T'S  HUCBAiVD.  409 

—not  countin  wails,  which  is  somethink  pretty,  considerable  at 
our  house,  I  can  tell  you. 

I  didn't  stay  long  here,  for  a  suckmstance  happened  which 
got  me  a  very  different  situation.  A  handsome  young  genlmn, 
who  kep  a  tilbry  and  a  ridin  hoss  at  livry,  wanted  a  tiger.  I 
bid  at  once  for  "the  place  ;__and,  being  a  neat  tidy-looking  lad, 
he  took  me.  Bago  gave  me  a  character,  and  he  my  first  livry  -, 
proud  enough  I  was  of  it,  as  you  may  fancy. 

My  new  master  had  some  business  in  the  City,  for  he  went 
in  every  morning  at  ten,  got  out  of  his  tilbry  at  the  Citty  Road, 
and  had  it  waiting  for  him  at  six  ;  when,  if  it  was  summer,  he 
spanked  round  into  the  Park,  and  drove  one  of  the  neatest 
turnouts  there.  Wery  proud  I  was  in  a  gold-laced  hat,  a  drab 
coat  and  a  red  weskit,  to  sit  by  his  side,  when  he  drove.  I 
already  began  to  ogle  the  gals  in  the  carridges,  and  to  feel  that 
longing  for  fashionabl  life  which  I've  had  ever  since.  When 
he  was  at  the  oppera,  or  the  play,  down  I  went  to  skittles,  or 
to  White  Condick  Gardens  ;  and  Mr.  Frederic  Altamont's 
young  man  was  somebody,  I  warrant :  to  be  sure  there  is  very 
few  man- servants  at  Pentonwille,  the  poppylation  being  mostly 
gals  of  ail  work  ;  and  so,  though  only  fourteen,  I  was  as  much 
a  man  down  there,  as  if  I  had  been  as  old  as  Jerusalem. 

But  the  most  singular  thing  was,  that  my  master,  who  was 
such  a  gay  chap,  should  live  in  such  a  hole.  He  had  only  a 
ground  floor  on  John  Street — a  parlor  and  a  bedroom.  I  slep 
over  the  way,  and  only  came  in  with  his  boots  and  brexfast  of 
a  morning. 

The  house  he  lodged  in  belonged  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shum. 
They  v/ere  a  poor  but  proliffic  couple,  who  had  rented  the  place 
for  many  years  ;  and  they  and  their  family  were  squeezed  in  it 
pretty  tight, , I  can  tell  you. 

Shum  said  he  had  been  a  hofficer,  and  so  he  had.  He  had 
been  a  sub-deputy  assistant  vice-commissary,  or  some  such 
think  ;  and,  as  I  heerd  afterwards,  had  been  obliged  to  leave 
on  account  of  his  nen'ousncss.  He  was  such  a  coward,  the  fact 
is,  that  he  was  considered  dangerous  to  the  harmy,  and  sent 
home.  • 

He  had  married  a  widow  Buckmaster,  who  had  been  a  Miss 
Slamcoe.  She  was  a  Bristol  gal ;  and  her  father  being  a  bank- 
rup  in  the  tallow-chandlering  way,  left,  in  course,  a  pretty  little 
sum  of  money.  A  thousand  pounds  was  settled  on  her ;  and 
she  was  as  high  and  mighty  ns  if  it  had  been  a  millium. 

Buckmaster  died,  leaving  nothink  ;  nothink  except  four  ugly 
daughters  by  Miss  Slamcoe ;  and  her  forty  pound  a  year  was 


41  o         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

rayther  a  narrow .  income  for  one  of  her  appytite  and  preten- 
sions. In  an  unlucky  hour  for  Shum  she  met  him.  He  was  a 
widower  with  a  little  daughter  of  three  years  old,  a  little  house 
at  Pentonwille,  and  a  little  income  about  as  big  as  her  own.  I 
believe  she  bullyd  the  poor  creature  into  marriage ;  and  it 
was  agreed  that  he  should  let  his  ground  floor  at  John  Street, 
and  so  add  somethink  to  their  means. 

They  married ;  and  the  widow  Buckmaster  was  the  gray 
mare,  I  can  tell  you.  She  was  always  talking  and  blustering 
about  her  famly,  the  celebrity  of  the  Buckmasters,  and  the 
antickety  of  the  Slamcoes.  They  had  a  six-roomed  house  (not 
counting  kitching  and  sculry),  and  now  twelve  daughters  in  all  ; 
whizz. — 4  Miss  Buckmasters:  Miss  Betsy,  Miss  Dosy,  Miss 
Biddy,  and  Miss  Winny  :  i  Miss  Shum,  Mary  by  name,  Shum's 
daughter,  and  seven  others,  who  shall  be  nameless.  Mrs. 
Shum  was  a  fat,  red-haired  woman,  at  least  a  foot  taller  than 
S. ;  who  was  but  a  yard  and  a  half  high,  pale-faced,  red-nosed, 
knock-kneed,  bald-headed,  his  nose  and  shirt-frill  all  brown 
with  snuff. 

Before  the  house  was  a  little  garden,  where  the  washin  of 
the  famly  was  all  ways  hanging.  There  was  so  many  of  'em 
that  it  was  obliged  to  be  done  by  relays.  There  was  six  rails 
and  a  stocking  on  each,  and  four  small  goosbiy  bushes,  always 
covered  with  some  bit  of  linning  or  other.  The  hall  was  a 
regular  puddle :  wet  dabs  of  dishclouts  flapped  in  your  face  j 
soapy  smoking  bits  of  flanning  went  nigh  to  choke  you  ;  and 
while  you  were  looking  up  to  prevent  hanging  yourself  with  the 
ropes  which  were  strung  across  and  about,  slap  came  the  hedge 
of  a  pail  against  your  sliins,  till  one  was  like  to  be  drove  mad 
with  hagony.  The  great  slattnly  doddling  girls  was  always  on 
the  stairs,  poking  about  with  nasty  flower-pots,  a-cooking  some- 
thing, or  sprawling  in  the  window-seats  with  greasy  curl-papers, 
reading  greasy  novls.  An  infernal  pianna  was  jingling  from 
morning  till  night — two  eldest  Miss  Buckmasters,  "  Battle  of 
Prag" — six  youngest  Miss  Shums,  "  In  my  Cottage,"  till  I  knew 
every  note  in  the  "  Battle  of  Prag,"  and  cussed  the  day  when 
"In' my  Cottage"  was  rote.  The  younger  girls,  too,  were 
always  bouncing  and  thumping  about  the  house,  with  torn 
pinnyfores,  and  dogs-eard  grammars,  and  large  pieces  of  bread 
and  treacle.     I  never  see  such  a  house. 

As  for  Mrs.  Shum,  she  was  such  a  fine  lady,  that  she  did 
nothink  but  lay  on  the  drawing-room  sophy,  read  novels,  drink, 
scold,  scream,  and  go  into  hys\arrix.  Little  Shum  kep  reading 
au  old  newspaper  from  weeks'  end  to  weeks'  end,  when  he  was 


MISS  SHUM'S  HUSBAND.  ^jj 

not  engaged  in  teaching  the  children,  or  goin  for  the  beer, 
or  cleanin  the  shoes  :  for  they  kep  no  servant.  This  house  in 
John  Street  was  in  short  a  regular  Pand3'mony. 

What  could  have  brought  Mr.  Frederic  Altamont  to  dwell 
in  such  a  place .-'  The  reason  is  hobvius  :  he  adoared  the  fust 
Miss  Shum. 

And  suttnly  he  did  not  show  a  bad  taste  ;  for  though  the 
other  daughters  were  as  ugl}^  as  their  hideous  ma,  Mary  Shum 
was  a  pretty  little  pink,  modest  creatur,  with  glossy  black  hair 
and  tender  blue  eyes,  and  a  neck  as  white  as  plaster  of  Parish. 
She  wore  a  dismal  old  black  gownd,  which  had  grown  too  short 
for  her,  and  too  tight ;  but  it  only  served  to  show  her  pretty 
angles  and  feet,  and  bewchus  figger.  Master,  though  he  had 
looked  rather  low  for  the  gal  of  his  art,  had  certainly  looked  in 
the  right  place.  Never  was  one  more  pretty  or  more  hamiable. 
I  gav  her  always  the  buttered  toast  left  from  our  brexfast,  and 
a  cup  of  tea  or  chocklate,  as  Altamont  might  fancy :  and  the 
poor  thing  was  glad  enough  of  it,  I  can  vouch  ;  for  they  had 
precious  short  commons  up  stairs,  and  she  the  least  of  all. 

For  it  seemed  as  if  which  of  the  Shum  famly  should  try  to 
snub  the  poor  thing  most.  There  was  the  four  Buckmaster 
girls  always  at  her.  It  was,  Mary,  git  the  coal-skittle  ;  Mary, 
run  down  to  the  public-house  for  the  beer  ;  Mary,  I  intend  to 
wear  your  clean  stockens  out  walking,  or  your  new  bonnet  to 
church.  Only  her  poor  father  was  kind  to  her  ;  and  he,  poor 
old  muff !  his  kindness  was  of  no  use.  Mary  bore  all  the 
scolding  like  a  h angel,  as  she  was  :  no,  not  if  she  had  a  pair  of 
wings  and  a  goold  trumpet,  could  she  have  been  a  greater 
hangel. 

I  never  shall  forgit  one  seen  that  took  place.  It  was  w^hen 
Master  was  in  the  City  ;  and  so,  having  nothink  earthly  to  do, 
I  happened  to  be  listening  on  the  stairs.  The  old  scolding  was 
a-going  on,  and  the  old  tune  of  that  hojus  "  Battle  of  Prag." 
Old  Shum  made  some  remark  ;  and  Miss  Buckmaster  cried  out, 
"  Law,  pa  !  what  a  fool  you  are  !  "  All  the  gals  began  laffin,  and 
so  did  Mrs.  Shum  ;  all,  that  is,  excep  Mary,  who  turned  as  red 
as  flams,  and  going  up  to  Miss  Betsy  Buckmaster,  give  her  two 
such  wax  on  her  great  red  ears  as  made  them  tingle  again. 

Old  Mrs.  Shum  screamed,  and  ran  at  her  like  a  Bengal 
tiger.  Her  great  arms  vent  veeling  about  like  a  vinmill,  as  she 
cuffed  and  thumped  poor  Mary  for  taking  her  pa's  part.  Mary 
Shum,  v/ho  was  always  a-crying  before,  didn't  shed  a  tear  now, 
"  I  will  do  it  again,"  she  said,  "  if  Betsy  insults  my  father." 
New  thumps,  new  shreex ;  and  the  old  horridan  went  on  beatin 


412         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

the  poor  girl  till  she  was  quite  exosted,  and  fell  down  on  the 
sophy,  puffin  like  a  poppus. 

"  For  shanie,  Mary,"  began  old  Shum  ;  "  for  shame,  you 
naughty  gal,  you  !  for  hurting  the  feelings  of  your  dear  mammai 
and  beating  your  kind  sister." 

"  Why,  it  was  because  she  called  you  a " 

"  If  she  did,  you  pert  miss,"  said  Shum,  looking  mighty 
dignitified,  "  I  could  correct  her,  and  not  you." 

"  You  correct  me,  indeed  !  "  said  Miss  Betsy,  turning  up  her 
nose,  if  possible,  higher  than  before  ;  "  I  should  like  to  see  you 
erect  me  !     Imperence  !  "  and  they  all  began  laffin  again. 

By  this  time  Mrs.  S.  had  recovered  from  the  effex  of  her 
exsize,  and  she  began  to  pour  in  her  wolly.  Fust  she  called 
Mary  names,  then  Shum. 

"  Oh,  why,"  screeched  she,  "  why  did  I  ever  leave  a  genteel 
famly,  where  I  ad  every  ellygance  and  lucksry,  to  marry  a 
creatur  like  this?  He  is  unfit  to  be  called  a  man,  he  is 
luiworthy  to  marry  a  gentlewoman  ;  and  as  for  that  hussy, 
I  disown  her.  Thank  heaven  she  an't  a  Slamcoe ;  she  is  only 
fit  to  be  a  Shum  !" 

"  That's  true,  mamma,"  said  all  the  gals ;  for  their  mother 
had  taught  them  this  pretty  piece  of  manners,  and  they  despised 
their  father  heartily  :  indeed,  I  have  always  remarked  that,  in 
famlies  where  the  wife  is  internally  talking  about  the  merits  of 
her  branch,  the  husband  is  invariably  a  spooney. 

Well,  when  she  was  exosted  again,  down  she  fell  on  the 
sofy,  at  her  old  trix — more  screeching — more  convulshuns  :  and 
she  wouldn't  stop,  this  time,  till  Shum  had  got  her  half  a  pint 
of  her  old  remedy,  from  the  "  Blue  Lion  "  over  the  way.  She 
grew  more  easy  as  she  finished  the  gin  ;  but  Mary  was  sent  out 
of  the  room,  and  told  not  to  come  back  agin  all  day. 

"  Miss  Mary,"  says  I, — for  my  heart  yurned  to  the  poor  gal, 
as  she  came  sobbing  and  miserable  down  stairs  :  "  Miss  Mary," 
says  I,  "  if  I  might  make  so  bold,  here's  master's  room  empty, 
and  I  know  where  the  cold  bif  and  pickles  is."  "  Oh,  Charles ! " 
said  she,  nodding  her  head  sadly,  "  I'm  too  retched  to  have 
any  happytite."  And  she  flung  herself  on  a  chair,  and  began  to 
cry  fit  to  bust. 

At  this  moment,  who  should  come  in  but  my  master.  I  had 
taken  hold  of  Miss  Mary's  hand,  somehow,  and  do  believe  1 
should  have  kist  it,  when,  as  I  said,  Haltamont  made  his  ap- 
pearance. "  What's  this  .''  "  cries  he,  lookin  at  me  as  black  as 
thunder,  or  as  Mr.  Philips  as  Hickit,  in  the  new  tragedy  of 
Mac  Buff. 


MISS  S HUM'S  HUSBAND. 


413 


"  It's  only  Miss  Mary,  sir,'"  answered  I. 

"  Get  out,  sir,"  says  he,  as  fierce  as  posbil ;  and  I  felt  some- 
think  (I  think  it  was  the  tip  of  his  to)  touching  me  behind,  and 
found  myself,  nex  minit,  sprawling  among  the  wet  flannings  and 
buckets  and  things. 

The  people  from  up  stairs  came  to  see  what  was  the  matter, 
as  I  was  cussin  and  crying  out.  "  It's  only  Charles,  ma," 
screamed  out  Miss  Betsy. 

"Where's  Mary  ?"  says  Mrs.  Shum,  from  the  sofy. 

"  She's  in  master's  room,  miss,"  said  I. 

"  She's  in  the  lodger's  room,  ma,"  cries  Miss  Shum,  hecko- 
ing  me. 

"  Very  good  ;  tell  her  to  stay  there  till  he  comes  back." 
And  then  Miss  Shum  went  bouncing  up  the   stairs  again,  little 

knowing  of  Haltamont's  return. 

*****  * 

I'd  long  before  observed  that  my  master  had  an  anchoring 
after  Mary  Shum  ;  indeed,  as  I  have  said,  it  was  purely  for  her 
sake  that  he  took  and  kep  his  lodgings  at  Pentonwille.  Excep 
for  the  sake  of  love,  which  is  above  being  mersnary,  fourteen 
shillings  a  wick  was  a  little  too  strong  for  two  such  rat-holes  as 
he  lived  in.  I  do  blieve  the  famly  had  nothing  else  but  their 
lodger  to  live  on  :  they  brekfisted  off  his  tea  leaves,  they  cut 
away  pounds  and  pounds  of  meat  from  his  jints  (he  always 
dined  at  home),  and  his  baker's  bill  was  at  least  enough  for  six. 
But  that  wasn't  m.y  business.  I  saw  him  grin,  sometimes,  when 
I  laid  down  the  cold  bif  of  a  morning,  to  see  how  little  was  left 
of  yesterday's  sirline  ;  but  he  never  said  a  syllabub  :  for  true 
love  don't  mind  a  pound  of  meat  or  so  hextra. 

At  first,  he  was  very  kind  and  attentive  to  all  the  gals  ; 
Miss  Betsy,  in  partickler,  grew  mighty  fond  of  him  :  they  sat, 
for  whole  evenings,  playing  cribbitch,  he  taking  his  pipe  and 
glas,  she  her  tea  and  muffing ;  but  as  it  was  improper  for  her 
to  come  alone,  she  brought  one  of  her  sisters,  and  this  was  gen- 
rally  Mary, — for  he  made  a  pint  of  asking  her,  too, — and  one 
day,  when  one  of  the  others  came  instead,  he  told  her,  very 
quitely,  that  he  hadn't  invited  her  ;  and  Miss  Buckmaster  was 
too  fond  of  muffings  to  try  this  game  on  again  :  besides,  she 
was  jealous  of  her  three  grown  sisters,  and  considered  Mary  as 
only  a  child.  Law  bless  us !  how  she  used  to  ogle  him,  and  quot 
bits  of  pottr)^,  and  play  "  Meet  Me  by  Moonlike,"  on  an  old 
gitter:  she  reglar  flung  herself  at  his  head:  but  he  wouldn't 
have  it,  bein  better  ockypied  elsewhere. 

One  night,  as  genteel  as  possible,  he  brought  home  tickets 
27 


414         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C  J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

for  "  Ashley's,"  and  proposed  to  take  two  young  ladies — MisS 
Betsy  and  Miss  Mary,  in  course.  I  recklect  lie  called  me 
aside  that  afternoon,  assuming  a  solanion  and  misterus  hare, 
"Charles,"  said  he,  ^'' are  you  up  to  snuff  2''' 

"  Why  sir,"  said  I,  "I'm  genrally  considered  tolerably  downy." 

"Well,"  says  he,  "I'll  give  you  half  a  suffering  if  j^ou  can 
manage  this  bisness  forme  ;  I've  chose  a  rainy  night  on  purpus. 
When  the  theatre  is  over,  you  must  be  waitin  with  two  umbrel- 
lows ;  give  me  one,  and  hold  the  other  over  Miss  Buckmaster : 
and,  hark  ye,  sir,  tu7-n  to  the  right  when  you  leave  the  theater, 
and  say  the  coach  is  ordered  to  stand  a  little  way  up  the  street, 
in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  crowd." 

We  went  (in  a  fly  hired  by  Mr.  A.),  and  never  shall  I  forgit 
Cartliche's  hacting  on  that  memrable  night.  Talk  of  Kimble  \ 
talk  of  Magreedy  !  Ashley's  for  my  money,  with  Cartlitch  in 
the  principal  part.  But  this  is  nothink  to  the  porpus.  When 
the  play  was  over,  I  was  at  the  door  with  the  umbrellos.  It 
was  raining  cats  and  dogs,  sure  enough. 

Mr.  Altamont  came  out  presently.  Miss  Mary  under  his 
am,  and  Miss  Betsy  following  behind,  rather  suik5^  "  This 
■way,  sir,"  cries  I,  pushin  forward  ;  and  I  threw  a  great  cloak 
o'^er  Miss  Betsy,  fit  to  smother  her.  Mr,  A.  and  Miss  Mary 
skipped  on  and  was  out  of  sight  when  Miss  Betsy's  cloak  was 
settled,  you  may  be  sure. 

"  They're  only  gone  to  the  fly,  miss.  It's  a  little  way  up  the 
street,  away  from  the  crowd  of  carridges."  And  off  we  turned 
to  the  right,  and  no  mistake. 

After  marchin  a  little  through  the  plash  and  mud,  "  Has 
anybody  seen  Coxy's  fly  ? "  cries  I,  with  the  most  innocent 
haxent  in  the  world. 

"  Cox's  fly  !  "  hollows  out  one  chap.  "  Is  it  the  vaggin  you 
want?"  says  another.  "I  see  the  blackin  wan  pass,"  giggles 
out  another  genlmn  ;  and  there  was  such  a  hinterchange  of  com- 
pliments as  you  never  heerd,  I  pass  them  over  though,  because 
some  of  'em  were  not  -wer}'  genteel. 

"  Law,  miss,"  said  I,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  My  master  will 
never  forgive  me  ;  and  I  haven't  a  single  sixpence  to  pay  a 
coach."  MissBetsy  was  just  going  to  call  one  when  I  said  that;. 
but  the  coachman  wouldn't  have  it  at  that  price,  he  said,  and  I 
knew  very  well  that  she  hadn't  four  or  five  shillings  to  pay  for  a 
wehicle.  So,  in  the  midst  of  that  tarin  rain,  at  midnight,  we 
had  to  walk  four  miles,  from  Westminster  Bridge  to  Pentonvv'ille  ; 
and  what  was  wuss,  /  didti't  happen  to  know  the  way.  A  very 
nice  walk  it  was,  and  no  mistake. 


M/SS  SHUM'S  HUSBAND.  415 

At  about  half-past  two,  we  got  safe  to  John  Street.  My 
master  was  at  the  garden  gate.  Miss  Mar)'  flew  into  Miss 
Betsy's  arms,  while  master  began  cussin  and  swearing  at  me  for 
disobeying  his  orders,  and  turning  to  the  right  instead  of  to  the 
left!  Law  bless  me!  his  hacting  of  hanger  was  very  near  as 
natral  and  as  terryble  as  Mr.  Cartlich's  in  the  play. 

They  had  waited  half-an-hour,  he  said,  in  the  fly,  in  the  little 
street  at  the  left  of  the  theatre  ;  they  had  drove  up  and  down 
in  the  greatest  fright  possible  ;  and  at  last  came  home,  thinking 
it  was  in  vain  to  wait  any  more.  They  gave  her  'ot  rum-and- 
water  and  roast  oysters  for  supper,  and  this  consoled  her  a 
little. 

I  hope  nobody  will  cast  an  imputation  on  Miss  Mary  for  her 
share  in  this  adventer,  for  she  was  as  honest  a  gal  as  ever  lived, 
and  I  do  believe  is  hignorant  to  this  day  of  our  little  strattygim. 
Besides,  all's  fair  in  love ;  and,  as  my  master  could  never  get 
to  see  her  alone,  on  account  of  her  infernal  eleven  sisters  and 
ma,  he  took  this  opportunity  of  expressin  his  attachment  to  her. 

If  he  was  in  love  with  her  before,  you  may  be  sure  she  paid 
it  him  back  again  now.  Ever  after  the  night  at  Ashley's,  they 
were  as  tender  as  two  tuttle-doves — which  fully  accounts  for  the 
axdent  what  happened  to  me,  in  being  kicked  out  of  the  room  : 
and  in  course  I  bore  no  mallis. 

I  don't  know  whether  Miss  Betsy  still  fancied  that  my  mas- 
ter was  in  love  with  her,  but  she  loved  muffings  and  tea,  and 
kem  down  to  his  parlor  as  much  as  ever. 

Now  comes  the  sing'lar  part  of  my  history. 


Chapter  II. 

But  who  was  this  genlmn  with  a  fine  name — Mr.  Frederic 
Altamont  ?  or  what  was  he  ?  The  most  inysterus  genlmn  that 
ever  I  knew.  Once  I  said  to  him  on  a  wery  rainy  day,  "  Sir, 
shall  I  brmg  the  gig  down  to  your  office  ? '"  and  he  guve  me  one 
of  his  black  looks  and  one  of  his  loudest  hoaths,  and  told  me 
to  mind  my  own  bizziness,  and  attend  to  my  orders.  Another 
day, — it  was  on  the  day  when  Miss  Mary  slapped  Miss  Betsy's 
face, — Miss  M.,  who  adoared  him,  as  I  have  said  already,  kep 
on  asking  him  what  was  his  buth,  parentidg,  and  edicration. 
"Dear  Frederii;,"  says  she,  "why  this  miotry  about  yourself 
and  your  hactions  ?  why  hide  from  your  littlu  Maiy  " — they  were 
as  tender  as  this,  I  can  tell  you — "  your  buth  and  your  pro- 
fessin  ?  " 


4i6         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.    YELLOWPLUSff. 

I  spose  Mr.  Frederic  looked  black,  for  I  was  only  listening, 
and  he  said,  in  a  voice  hagitated  by  emotion,  "  Mary,"  said  he' 
*'  if  you  love  me,  ask  me  this  no  more  :  let  it  be  sfishnt  for  you 
to  know  that  I  am  a  honest  man,  and  that  a  secret,  what  it 
would  be  misery  for  you  to  larn,  must  hang  over  all  my  actions 
— that  is  from  ten  o'clock  till  six." 

They  went  on  chafifin  and  talking  in  this  melumcolly  and 
mysterus  way,  and  I  didn't  lose  a  word  of  what  they  said ;  for 
them  houses  in  Pentonwille  have  only  walls  made  of  paste- 
board, and  you  hear  rayther  better  outside  the  room  than  in. 
Eut,  though  he  kep  up  his  secret,  he  swore  to  her  his  affektion 
this  day  pint  blank.  Nothing  should  prevent  him,  he  said, 
from  leading  her  to  the  halter,  from  makin  her  his  adoarable 
wife.  After  this  was  a  slight  silence.  "  Dearest  Frederic," 
mummered  out  miss,  speakin  as  if  she  was  chokin,  "  I  am  yours 
• — ^yours  for  ever."  And  then  silence  agen,  and  one  or  two 
smax,  as  if  there  was  kissin  going  on.  Here  I  thought  it  best 
to  give  a  rattle  at  the  door-lock  ;  for,  as  I  live,  there  was  old 
Mrs.  Shum  a-walkin  down  the  stairs  ! 

It  appears  that  one  of  the  younger  gals,  a-looking  out  of  the 
bedrum  window,  had  seen  my  master  come  in,  and  coming 
down  to  tea  half-an-hour  afterwards,  said  so  in  a  cussary  way. 
Old  Mrs.  Shum,  who  was  a  dragon  of  vertyou,  cam  bustling 
down  the  stairs,  panting  and  frowning,  as  fat  and  as  fierce  as  a 
old  sow  at  feedin  time. 

"  Where's  the  lodger,  fellow  ?  "  says  she  to  me. 

I  spoke  loud  enough  to  be  heard  down  the  street — "  If  you 
mean,  ma'am,  my  master,  Mr.  Frederick  Altamont,  esquire, 
he's  just  stept  in,  and  is  puttin  on  clean  shoes  in  his  bed- 
room." 

She  said  nothink  in  answer,  but  flumps  past  me,  and  opening 
the  parlor  door,  sees  master  looking  very  queer,  and  Miss  Mary 
a-drooping  down  her  head  like  a  pale  lily. 

"  Did  you  come  into  my  famly,"  says  she,  "  to  corrupt  my 
daughters,  and  to  destroy  the  hinnocence  of  that  infamous  gal  ? 
Did  you  come  here,  sir,  as  a  seducer,  or  only  as  a  lodger  ? 
Speak,  sir,  speak !  " — and  she  folded  her  arms  quite  fierce,  and 
looked  like  Mrs.  Siddums  in  the  Traggic  Mews. 

"  I  came  here,  Mrs.  Shum,"  said  he,  "  because  I  love  your 
daughter,  or  I  never  would  have  condescended  to  live  in  such 
a  beggarly  hole.  I  have  treated  her  in  every  respect  like  a 
genlmn,  and  she  is  as  innocent  now,  ma'am,  as  she  was  when 
she  was  born.  *If  she'll  marry  me,  I  am  ready;  if  she'll  leave 
you,  she  shall  have  a  home  where  she  shall  be  neither  bullyd  nor 


1 


MISS  SHUAPS  HUSBAND. 


417 


Starved  :  no  hangry  frumps  of  sisters,  no  cross  mother-in-law, 
only  an  affeckshnat  husband,  and  all  the  pure  pleasures  of 
Hyming." 

Mary  flung  herself  into  his  arms — "  Dear,  dear  Frederic," 
says  she,  "  I'll  never  leave  you." 

"  Miss,"  says  Mrs.  Shum,  "  you  ain't  a  Slamcoe  nor  yet  a 
Buckniaster,  thank  God.  You  may  marry  this  person  if  your 
pa  thinks  proper,  and  he  may  insult  me — ^brave  me — trample 
on  my  feelinx  in  my  own  house — and  there's  no-o-o-obody  by  to 
defend  me." 

I  knew  what  she  was  going  to  be  at :  on  came  her  histarrix 
agen,  and  she  began  screechin  and  roarin  like  mad.  Down 
comes  of  course  the  eleven  gals  and  old  Shum.  There  was  a 
pretty  row.  "Look  here,  sir,"  says  she,  "  at  the  conduck  of 
your  precious  trull  of  a  daughter— alone  with  this  man,  kissin 
and  dandlin,  and  Lawd  knows  what  besides." 

'  Wliat,  he?"  cries  Miss  Betsy — "he  in  love  with  Mary. 
Oh,  the  wretch,  the  monster,  the  deceiver !  " — and  she  falls 
down  too,  screeching  away  as  loud  as  her  mamma  ;  for  the  silly 
creature  fancied  still  that  Altamont  had  a  fondness  for  her. 

'•'■  Silence  these  womett  f'  shouts  out  Altamont,  thundering 
loud.  "  I  love  your  daughter,  Mr.  Shum.  I  will  take  her  with- 
out a  penn)?^,  and  can  afford  to  keep  her.  If  you  don't  give  her 
to  me,  she'll  come  of  her  own  will.  Is  that  enough  ? — may  I 
have  her .? " 

"  Well  talk  of  this  matter,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Shum,  looking  as 
high  and  mighty  as  an  alderman.  "  Gals,  go  up  stairs  with 
your  dear  mamma." — And  they  all  trooped  up  again,  and  so  the 
skrimmage  ended. 

You  may  be  sure  that  old  Shum  was  not  very  sorry  to  get  a 
husband  for  his  daughter  Mary,  for  the  old  creatur  loved  her 
better  than  all  the  pack  which  had  been  brought  to  him  or  born 
to  him  by  Mrs.  Buckmaster,  But,  strange  to  say,  when  he  came 
to  talk  of  settlements  and  so  forth,  not  a  word  would  my  master 
answer.  He  said  he  made  four  hundred  a  year  reglar — he 
wouldn't  tell  how — but  Mary,  if  she  married  him,  must  share  all 
that  he  had,  and  ask  no  questions  ;  only  this  he  would  say,  as 
he'd  said  before,  that  he  was  a  honest  man. 

They  were  married  in  a  few  days,  and  took  a  very  genteel 
house  at  Islington  ;  but  still  my  master  went  away  to  business, 
and  nobody  knew  where.     Who  could  he  be  ? 


41 8         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

Chapter  III. 

If  ever  a  young  kipple  in  the  middlin  classes  began  life 
with  a  chance  of  happiness,  it  was  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frederic  Alta- 
mont.  There  house  at  Cannon  Row,  Islington,  was  as  com- 
fortable as  house  could  be.  Carpited  from  top  to  to  ;  pore's 
rates  small ;  furnitur  elygant ;  and  three  deomestix  :  of  which 
I,  in  course,  was  one.  My  life  wasn't  so  easy  as  in  Mr.  A.'s 
bachelor  days  ;  but,  what  then  ?  The  three  W's  is  my  maxum  : 
plenty  of  work,  plenty  of  wittles,  and  plenty  of  wages.  Alta- 
mont  kep  his  gig  no  longer,  but  went  to  the  City  in  an  omlibuster. 

One  would  have  thought,  I  say,  that  Mrs.  A.,  with  such  an 
effeckschnut  husband,  might  have  been  as  happy  as  herblessid 
majisty.  Nothing  of  the  sort.  For  the  fust  six  months  it  was 
all  very  well ;  but  then  she  grew  gloomier  and  gloomier,  though 
A.  did  everythink  in  life  to  please  her. 

Old  Shum  used  to  come  reglarly  four  times  a  wick  to  Can- 
non Row,  where  he  lunched,  and  dined,  and  teed,  and  supd. 
The  pore  little  man  was  a  thought  too  fond  of  wine  and  spirits  ; 
and  many,  and  many's  the  night  that  I've  had  to  support  him 
home.  And  you  may  be  sure  that  Miss  Betsy  did  not  now 
desert  her  sister  :  she  was  at  our  place  mornink,  noon,  and 
night ;  not  much  to  my  master's  liking,  though  he  was  too  good- 
natured  to  wex  his  wife  in  trifles. 

But  Betsy  never  had  forgotten  the  recollection  of  old  days, 
and  hated  Altamont  like  the  foul  feind.  She  put  all  kind  of 
bad  things  into  the  head  of  poor  innocent  missis  ;  who,  from 
being  all  gayety  and  cheerfulness,  grew  to  be  quite  melumcolly 
and  pale,  and  retchid,  just  as  if  she  had  been  the  most  misr- 
able  woman  in  the  world. 

In  three  months  more,  a  baby  comes,  in  course,  and  with  it 
old  Mrs.  Shum,  who  stuck  to  Mrs.'  side  as  close  as  a  wampire, 
and  made  her  retchider  and  retchider.  She  used  to  bust  into 
tears  when  Altamont  came  home  :  she  used  to  sigh  and  wheep 
over  the  pore  child,  and  say,  "  My  child,  my  child,  your  father 
is  false  to  me  ;  "  or,  "  your  father  deceives  me  ; "  or,  "  what  will 
you  do  when  your  pore  mother  is  no  more  1  "  or  such  like 
sentimental  stuff. 

It  all  came  from  Mother  Shum,  and  her  old  trix,  as  I  soon 
found  out.  The  fact  is,  when  there  is  a  mistry  of  this  kind  in 
the  house,  its  a  servant's  duty  to  listen  ]  and  listen  I  did,  one 
day  when  Mrs.  was  cryin  as  usual,  and  fat  Mrs.  Shum  a  sittin 
consolin  her,  as  she  called  it :  though  heaven  knows,  she  only 
grew  wuss  and  wuss  for  the  consolation. 


MISS  SHUM'S  HUSBAND. 


419 


Well,  I  listened ;  Mrs.  Shum  was  a-rockin  the  baby,  and 
misses  cryin  as  yousual. 

"  Pore  dear  innocint,"  says  Mrs.  S.,  heavin  a  great  sigh, 
"  you're  the  child  of  a  unknown  father  and  a  misrable  mother." 

"  Don't  speak  ill  of  Frederic,  mamma,"  says  missis ;  "  he  is 
:  all  kindness  to  me." 

"All  kindness,  indeed  !  yes.  he  gives  you  a  fine  house,  and 
a  fine  gownd,  and  a  ride  in  a  fly  whenever  you  please ;  but 
where  does  all  /it's  money  come  from  ?  Who  is  he — what  is  he  ? 
Who  knows  that  he  mayn't  be  a  murderer,  or  a  housebreaker, 
or  a  utterer  of  forged  notes  ?  How  can  he  make  his  monC/ 
honestly,  when  he  won't  say  where  he  gets  it  ?  Why  does  he 
leave  you  eight  hours  every  blessid  day,  and  won't  say  where 
he  goes  to  ?  Oh,  Mary,  Mary,  you  are  the  most  injured  ji 
women  ! 

And  with  this  Mrs.  Shum  began  sobbin  ;  and  Miss  Betsy 
began  yowling  like  a  cat  in  a  gitter ;  and  pore  missis  cried,  too 
— tears  is  so  remarkable  infeckshsu. 

"  Perhaps,  mamma,"  wimpered  out  she,  "  Frederic  is  a  shop- 
boy,  and  don't  like  me  to  know  that  he  is  not  a  gentleman." 

"  A  shopboy,"  says  Betsy  ;  "  he  a  shopboy  !  O  no,  no,  no  ! 
more  likely  a  wretched  willain  of  a  murderer,  stabbin  and 
robing  all  day,  and  feedin  you  with  the  fruits  of  his  ill-gotten 
games  !  " 

More  cryin  and  screechin  here  took  place,  in  which  the 
baby  joined  ;  and  made  a  very  pretty  consort,  I  can  tell  you. 

"  He  can't  be  a  robber,"  cries  missis  ;  "  he's  too  good,  too 
kind,  for  that  :  besides,  murdering  is  done  at  night,  and  Frederic 
is  always  home  at  eight." 

"  But  he  can  be  a  forger,"  says  Betsy,  "  a  wicked,  wicked 
forger.  Why  does  he  go  away  every  day  ?  to  forge  notes,  to  be 
sure.  Why  does  he  go  the  City .''  to  be  near  banks  and  places, 
and  so  do  it  more  at  his  convenience." 

"  But  he  brings  home  a  sum  of  money  every  day — about 
thirty  shillings — sometimes  fifty  :  and  then  he  smiles,  and  says 
it's  a  good  day's  work.  This  is  not  like  a  forger,"  said  pore 
Mrs.  A. 

"  I  have  it — I  have  it  !  "  screams  out  Mrs.  S.  "  The  villain 
— the  sneaking,  double-faced  Jonas  !  he's  married  to  somebody 
else  he  is,  and  that's  why  he  leaves  you,  the  base  biggymtst  ?  " 

At  this,  Mrs.  Altamont,  struck  all  of  a  heap,  fainted  clean 
away.  A  dreadful  business  it  was — hystarrix  ;  then  hystarrix, 
in  course,  from  Mrs.  Shum  ;  bells  ringin,  child  squalin,  suvvants 
tearin  up  and  down  stairs  with  hot  water  !    If  ever  there  is  a  noo« 


42 o  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.   C.  J.    YELLOIVPLUS/T. 

sauce  in  the  world,  it's  a  house  where  faintin  is  always  going  on. 
I  wouldn't  live  in  one, — no,  not  to  be  groom  of  the  chanibers, 
and  git  two  hundred  a  year. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  evenin  when  this  row  took  place  ; 
and  such  a  row  it  was,  that  nobody  but  me  heard  master's 
knock.  He  came  in,  and  heard  the  hooping,  and  screeching, 
and 'roaring.  He  seemed  very  much  frightened  at  first,  and 
said,  "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Shum's  here,"  says  I,  "  and  Mrs.  in  astarrix." 

Altamont  looked  as  black  as  thunder,  and  growled  out  a 
word  which  I  don't  like  to  name, — let  it  suffice  that  it  begins 
with  a  d  and  ends  with  a  nation  ;  and  he  tore  up  stairs  like  mad. 

He  bust  open  the  bedroom  door  ;  missis  lay  quite  pale  and 
stony  on  the  sofy ;  the  babby  was  screechin  from  the  craddle  ; 
Miss  Ijctsy  was  sprawlin  over  missis  ;  and  Mrs.  Shum  half  on 
the  bed  and  half  on  the  ground  :  all  howlin  and  squeelin,  like 
so  many  dogs  at  the  moond. 

When  A.  came  in,  the  mother  and  daughter  stopped  all  of 
a  sudding.  There  had  been  one  or  two  tiffs  before  between 
them,  and  they  feared  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  hogre. 

"  What's  this  infernal  screeching  and  crying  about  ? "  says 
he.  "Oh,  Mr,  Altamont,"  cries  the  old  woman,  "you  know 
too  well ;  it's  about  you  that  this  darling  child  is  misrabble  !  " 

"  And  why  about  me,  pray,  madam  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  dare  you  ask  why  ?  Because  you  deceive  her, 
sir ;  because  you  are  a  false,  cowardly  traitor,  sir ;  because  you 
have  a  ivife  elsewhere,  sir  /"  And  the  old  lady  and  Miss  Betsy 
began  to  roar  again  as  loud  as  ever. 

Altamont  pawsed  for  a  minnit,  and  then  flung  the  door  wide 
open;  nex  he  seized  Miss  Betsy  as  if  his  hand  were  a  vice,  and 
he  world  her  out  of  the  room  ;  then  up  he  goes  to  Mrs.  S. 
"  Get  up,"  says  he,  thundering  loud,  "  you  lazy,  trollopping, 
mischief-making,  lying  old  fool !  Get  up,  and  get  out  of  this 
house.  You  have  been  the  cuss  and  bain  of  my  happyniss 
since  you  entered  it.  With  your  d — d  lies,  and  novvle  reading, 
and  histerrix,  you  have  perwerted  Mary,  and  made  her  almost 
as  mad  as  yourself." 

"  My  child  !  my  child  !  "  shriex  out  Mrs.  Shum,  and  clings 
round  missis.  But  Altamont  ran  between  them,  and  griping 
the  old  lady  by  her  arm,  dragged  her  to  the  door.  "  Follow 
your  daughter,  ma'm,"  says  he,  and  down  she  went.  "  Chawls, 
see  those  ladies  to  the  door"  he  hollows  out,  "  and  never  let  them 
pass  it  again."  We  walked  down  together,  and  off  they  went : 
and  master  locked  and  double-locked  the  bedroom  door  aftef 


MISS  SHUM'S  HUSBAND.  421 

him,  intendin,  of  course,  to  have  a  tafor-tator  (as  they  say)  with 
his  wife.  You  may  be  sure  that  I  followed  up  stairs  again 
pretty  quick,  to  hear  the  result  of  their  confidence. 

As  they  say  at  St.  Stevenses,  it  was  rayther  a  stormy  debate. 
"  Mary,"  says  master,  "  you're  no  longer  the  merry  grateful  gal 
I  knew  and  loved  at  Pentonwill :  there's  some  secret  a  pressin 
on  you — there's  no  smilin  welcom  for  me  now,  as  there  used 
formly  to  be  !  Your  mother  and  sister-in-law  have  perwerted 
you,  Mary:  and  that's  why  I've  drove  them  from  this  house, 
which  they  shall  not  re-enter  in  my  life." 

"  O,  Frederic  !  it's  yoti  is  the  cause,  and  not  I.  Why  do  you 
have  any  mistry  from  me  ?  Where  do  you  spend  your  days  ? 
Why  did  you  leave  me,  even  on  the  day  of  your  marriage,  for 
eight  hours,  and  continue  to  do  so  every  day  .-'  " 

''  Because,  says  he,  "  I  makes  my  livelihood  by  it.  I  leave 
you,  and  I  don't  tell  you  horu  I  make  it ;  for  it  would  make  you 
none  the  happier  to  know." 

It  was  in  this  way  the  convysation  ren  on — more  tears  and 
questions  on  my  missises  part,  more  sturmness  and  silence  on 
my  master's  :  it  ended  for  the  first  time  since  their  marridge  in 
a  reglar  quarrel.  Wery  difrent,  I  can  tell  you,  from  all  the  ham- 
merous  billing  and  kewing  which  had  proceeded  the  nupshuls. 

Master  went  out,  slamming  the  door  in  a  fury ;  as  well  he 
might.  Says  he,  ''  If  I  can't  have  a  comforable  life,  I  can 
have  a  jolly  one  • "  and  so  he  went  off  to  the  hed  tavern,  and 
came  home  that  evening  beesly  intawsicated.  When  high 
words  begin  in  a  family  drink  generally  follows  on  the  genlman's 
side  ;  and  then,  fearwell  to  all  conjubial  happyniss  !  These 
two  pipple,  so  fond  and  loving,  were  now  sirly,  silent,  and  full 
of  il  vv^il.  Master  went  out  earlier,  and  came  home  later ;  mis- 
sis cried  more,  and  looked  even  paler  than  before. 

Well,  things  went  on  in  this  uncomfortable  wa\^,  master  still 
in  the  mopes,  missis  tempted  by  the  deamons  of  jellosy  and 
curosity  ;  until  a  singlar  axident  brought  to  light  all  the  goings 
on  of  Mr.  Altamont. 

It  was  the  tenth  of  January  ;  I  recklect  the  day,  for  old  Shum 
gev  me  half-a-crownd  (the  fust  and  last  of  his  money  I  ever  see, 
by  the  way)  :  he  was  dining  along  with  master,  and  they  were 
making  merry  together. 

Master  said,  as  he  was  mixing  his  fifth  tumler  of  punch  and 
little  Shum  his  twelfth  or  so — master  said,  "  I  see  you  twice  in 
the  City  to-day,  Mr.  Shum." 

"  Well,  that's  curious  !  "  says  Shum.  "  I  zvas  in  the  City, 
To-day's  the  day  when   the  divvydins  (God  bless  'em)  is  paid* 


422         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

and  me  and  Mrs.  S.  went  for  our  half-year's  inkem.  But  we 
only  got  out  of  the  coach,  crossed  the  street  to  the  Bank,  took 
our  money,  and  got  in  agen.     How  could  you  see  me  twice  ?  " 

Altamont  stuttered  and  stammered  and  hemd,  and  hawd. 
"  O  !  "  says  he,  "  I  was  passing — passing  as  you  went  in  and 
out."  And  he  instantly  turned  the  conversation,  and  began 
talking  about  pollytix,  or  the  weather,  or  some  such  stuff. 

"Yes,  my  dear,"  said  my  missis,  "but  how  could  you  see 
papa  twice  ?  "  Master  didn't  answer,  but  talked  pollytix  more 
than  ever.  Still  she  would  continy  on.  "  Where  was  you,  my 
dear,  when  you  saw  pa  ?  What  were  you  doing,  my  love,  to 
see  pa  twice  ? "  and  so  forth.  Master  looked  angrier  and 
angrier,  and  his  wife  only  pressed  him  wuss  and  wuss. 

This  was,  as  I  said,  little  Shum's  twelfth  tumler  ;  and  I  knew 
pritty  well  that  he  could  git  very  little  further  ;  for,  as  reglar  as 
the  thirteenth  came,  Shum  was  drunk.  The  thirteenth  did 
come,  and  its  consquinzes.  I  was  obliged  to  leed  him  home 
to  John  Street,  where  I  left  him  in  the  hangry  arms  of  Mrs. 
Shum. 

"  How  the  d — ,"  sayd  he  all  the  way,  "  how  the  d  dd — the 
deddy — deddy — devil — could  he  have  seen  me  twice  ?  " 

Chapter  IV. 

It  was  a  sad  slip  on  Altamont's  part,  for  no  sooner  did  he 
go  out  the  next  morning  than  missis  went  out  too.  She  tor 
down  the  street,  and  never  stopped  till  she  came  to  her  pa's 
house  at  Pentonwill.  She  was  clositid  for  an  hour  with  her 
ma,  and  when  slie  left  her  she  drove  straight  to  the  City.  She 
walked  before  the  Bank,  and  behind  the  Bank,  and  round  the 
Bank  :  she  came  home  disperryted,  having  learned  nothink. 

And  it  was  now  an  extraordinary  thing  that  from  Shum's 
house  for  the  next  ten  days  there  was  nothing  but  expyditions 
into  the  City.  Mrs.  S.,  tho  her  dropsicle  legs  had  never  carred 
her  half  so  fur  before,  was.  eternally  on  the  ^ejf  veve,  as  the 
French  say.  If  she  didn't  go.  Miss  Betsy  did,  or  misses  did  : 
they  seemed  to  have  an  attrackshun  to  the  Bank,  and  went 
there  as  natral  as  an  omlibus. 

At  last  one  day,  old  Mrs.  Shum  comes  to  our  house — (she 
wasn't  admitted  when  master  was  there,  but  came  still  in  his 
absints) — and  she  wore  a  hair  of  tryumph,  as  she  entered. 
"  Mary,"  says  she,  "  where  is  the  money  your  husbind  brought 
to  you  yesterday  ? "  My  master  used  always  to  give  it  to 
missis  when  he  returned. 


MISS  SHUM  'S  HUSBAND.  423 

"  The  money,  ma  !  "  says  Mary.  "  Why  here  !  "  And 
pulling  out  her  puss,  she  showed  a  sovrin,  a  good  heap  of  silver, 
and  an  odd-looking  little  coin. 

"  That's  it  !  that's  it !  "  cried  Mrs.  S.  "  A  Queene  Anne's 
sixpence,  isn't  it,  dear — dated  seventeen  hundred  and  three  ?  " 

It  was  so  sure  enougli :  a  Queen  Ans  sixpence  of  that  very 
date. 

"  Now,  my  love,"  says  she,  "  I  have  found  him  !  Come 
with  me  to-morrow,  and  you  shall  know  all  !  " 

And  now  comes  the  end  of  my  story. 

******* 

The  ladies  nex  morning  set  out  for  the  City,  and  I  walked 
behind,  doing  the  genteel  thing,  with  a  nosegy  and  a  goold  stick. 
We  walked  down  the  New  Road — we  walked  down  the  City 
Road — we  walked  to  the  Bank.  We  were  crossing  from  that 
heddyfiz  to  the  other  side  of  Cornhill,  when  all  of  a  sudden 
missis  shreeked,  and  fainted  spontaceously  away. 

I  rushed  forrard,  and  raised  her  to  my  arms :  spiling  thereby 
a  new  weskit  and  a  pair  of  crimson  smalcloes.  I  rushed  forrard, 
I  say,  very  nearly  knocking  down  the  old  sweeper  who  was 
hobbling  away  as  fast  as  posibil.  We  took  her  to  Birch's  ; 
we  provided  her  with  a  hackney-coach  and  every  lucksury,  and 
carried  her  home  to  Islington. 

******* 

That  night  master  nerer  came  home.  Nor  the  nex  night, 
nor  the  nex.  On  the  fourth  day  an  auctioneer  arrived  ;  he  took 
an  infantry  of  the  furnitur,  and  placed  a  bill  in  the  window. 

At  the  end  of  the  wick  Altamont  made  his  appearance. 
He  was  haggard  and  pale  ;  not  so  haggard,  however,  not  so 
pale  as  his  miserable  wife. 

He  looked  at  her  very  tendrilly.     I  may  say,  it's  from  him 

that  I  coppied  my  look  to  Miss .     He  looked   at  h.cr  very 

tendrilly  and  held  out  his  arms.  She  gev  a  suffycating  shreek. 
and  rusht  into  his  umbraces. 

"  Mary,"  says  he,  ''you  know  all  now.  I  have  sold  my  place  ; 
I  have  got  three  thousand  pounds  for  it,  and  saved  two  more. 
I've  sold  my  house  and  furnitur,  and  that  brings  me  another. 
We'll  go  abroad  and  love  each  other,  has  formly." 

And  now  you  ask  me,  Who  he  was  ?  I  shudder  to  relate. 
Mr.  Haltamont  swep  the  crossing  from  the  Bank  to  Corn- 
hill  ! ! 

Of  cors,  /left  his  servis.  I  met  him,  few  years  after,  at 
Badden-Badden,  where  he  and  Mrs.  A.  v.-ere  much  respecti4 
and  pass  for  pipple  of  propaty. 


424         ^-^^-^  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  /    YELLOWPLUSH. 


THE   AMOURS   OF   MR.   DEUCEACE. 


DIMOND  CUT   DIMOND. 

The  name  of  my  nex  master  was,  if  posbil,  still  more  elly* 
gan t  and  youfonious  than  that  of  my  fust.  I  now  found  myself 
boddy  servant  to  the  Honrabble  Halgernon  Percy  Deuceace, 
youngest  and  fifth  son  of  the  Earl  of  Crabs. 

Halgernon  was  a  barrystir — that  is,  he  lived  in  Pump  Cort, 
Temple  :  a  wulgar  naybrood,  witch  praps  my  readers  don't  no. 
Suffiz  to  say,  it's  on  the  confines  of  the  citty,  and  the  choasen 
aboad  of  the  lawyers  of  this  metrappolish. 

When  I  say  that  Mr.  Deuceace  was  a  barrystir,  I  don't 
mean  that  he  went  sesshums  or  surcoats  (as  they  call  'em), 
but  simply  that  he  kep  chambers,  lived  in  Pump  Cort,  and 
looked  out  for  a  commitionarship,  or  a  revisinship,  or  any  other 
place  that  the  Wig  guvvyment  could  give  him.  His  father  was 
a  Wig  pier  (as  the  landriss  told  mei),  and  had  been  a  Toary 
pier.  The  fack  is,  his  lordship  was  so  poar,  that  he  would  be 
anythink  or  nothink,  to  get  provisions  for  his  sons  and  an  inkum 
for  himself. 

I  phansy  that  he  aloud  Halgernon  two  hundred  a  year  ;  and 
it  would  have  been  a  very  comforable  maintenants,  only  he 
knever  paid  him. 

Owever,  the  young  genlmn  was  a  genlmn,  and  no  mistake ; 
he  got  his  allovv^ents  of  nothing  a  year,  and  spent  it  in  the  most 
honrabble  and  fashnabble  manner.  He  kep  a  kab — he  went 
to  Holmax — and  Crockfud's — he  moved  in  the  most  xquizzit 
suckles  and  trubbld  the  law  boox  very  little,  I  can  tell  you. 
Those  fashnabble  gents  have  ways  ofgetten  money,  witch  com- 
man  pipple  doan't  understand. 

Though  he  only  had  a  therd  floar  in  Pump  Cort,  he  lived  as 
if  he  had  the  welth  of  Cresas.  The  tenpun  notes  floo  abowt  as 
common  as  haypince — clarrit  and  shampang  was  at  his  house 
as  vulgar  as  gin  ;  and  verry  glad  I  was,  to  be  sure,  to  be  a  val- 
ley to  a  zion  of  the  nobillaty. 

Deuceace  had,  in  his  sittin-room,  a  large  pictur  on  a  sheet  of 


^- 


'^^^B^ 


THE   CALAIS    PACKET.  —  MR.  YELLOWPLUSH'S    EMOTIONS   ON    FIRST  GOING 

TO   SEA. 


THE  AMOURS  OF  MR.  DEUCE  ACE.  425 

paper.  The  names  of  his  family  was  wrote  on  it  ;  it  was  wrote 
in  the  shape  of  a  tree,  a-groin  out  of  a  man-in-armer's  stomick, 
and  the  names  were  on  little  plates  among  the  bows.  The  pic- 
tur  said  that  the  Deuceaces  kem  into  England  in  the  year  1066, 
along  with  William  Conqueruns.  My  master  called  it  his  pody- 
grce.  I  do  bleev  it  was  because  he  had  this  pictur,  and  be- 
cause he  was  the  Honrabbh'  Deuceace,  that  he  mannitched  to 
li\  e  as  he  did.  If  he  had  been  a  common  man,  you'd  have 
said  he  was  no  better  than  a  swinler.  It's  only  rank  and  buth 
that  can  v/arrant  such  singularities  as  my  master  show'd.  For 
it's  no  use  disgysing  it — the  Honrabble  Halgernon  was  a  gam- 
bler. For  a  man  of  wulgar  family,  it's  the  wust  trade  that  can 
be — for  a  man  of  common  feelinx  of  honesty,  this  profession  is 
quite  imposbil  ;  but  for  a  real  thoroughbread  genlmn,  it's  the 
esiest  and  most  prophetable  line  he  can  take. 

It  may  praps  appear  curious  that  such  a  fashnabble  man 
should  live  in  the  Temple  ;  but  it  must  be  recklected,  that  it's 
not  only  lawyers  who  live  in  what's  called  the  Ins  of  Cort. 
Many  batchylers,  who  ha\'e  nothink  to  do  with  lor,  have  here 
their  loginx;  and  many  sham  barrysters,  who  never  put  on  a 
wig  and  gownd  twise  in  their  lives,  kip  apartm.ents  in  the 
Temple,  instead  of  Bon  Street,  Pickledilly,  or  other  fashnabble 
places. 

Frinstance,  on  our  stairkis  (so  these  houses  are  called), 
there  was  8  sets  of  charnberses,  and  only  3  lawyers.  These  was 
bottom  floar,  Screwson,  Hewson,  and  Jewson,  attorneys ;  fust 
fioar,  Mr.  Sergeant  Flabber — opsite,  Mr.  Counslor  Bruffy  ;  and 
sccknd  pair,  Mr.  Haggerstony,  an  Irish  counslor,  praktising  at 
the  Old  Baly,  and  lickwise  what  they  call  reporter  to  the  Morn- 
ing Post  nyouspapper.     Opsite  him  was  wrote 

Mr.  Richard  Blewitt  ; 

and  on  the  thud  floar,  with  my  master,  lived  one  Mr.  Dawkins. 

This  young  fellow  was  a  new-comer  into  the  Temple,  and 
unlucky  it  was  for  him  too — he'd  better  have  never  been  born ; 
for  it's  my  firm  apinion  that  the  Temple  ruined  him — that  is, 
with  the  help  of  my  master  and  Mr.  Dick  Blewitt :  as  you  shall 
hear. 

Mr.  Dawkins,  as  I  was  gave  to  understand  by  his  young 
man,  had  jest  left  the  Universary  of  Oxford,  and  had  a  pretty 
little  fortn  of  his  own — six  thousand  pound,  or  so — in  the  stox. 
He  was  jest  of  age,  an  orfin  who  had  lost  his  father  and 
mother ;  and  having  distinkwished  hisself  at  Collitch,  where  he 


426         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.   C.J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

gained  seffral  prices,  was  come  to  town  to  push  his  fortn,  and 
study  the  barryster's  bisness. 

Not  bein  of  a  very  high  fammly  hisself — indeed,  I've  heard 
say  his  father  was  a  chismonger,  or  somethink  of  that  lo  sort — ■ 
Dawkins  was  glad  to  find  his  old  Oxford  frend,  Mr.  Blewitt, 
yonger  son  to  rich  Squire  Blewitt,  of  Listershire,  and  to  take 
rooms  so  near  him. 

Now,  tho'  there  was  a  considdrable  intimacy  between  me 
and  Mr.  Blewitt's  gentleman,  there  was  scarcely  any  betwixt 
our  masters, — mine  being  too  much  of  the  aristoxy  to  associate 
with  one  of  Mr.  Blewitt's  sort.  Blewitt  was  what  they  call  a 
bettin  man ;  he  went  reglar  to  Tattlesall's,  kep  a  pony,  wore  a 
white  hat,  a  blue  berd's-eye  handkercher,  and  a  cut-away  coat. 
In  his  manners  he  was  the  very  contrary  of  my  master,  who 
was  a  slim,  ellygant  man  as  ever  I  see — he  had  very  white 
hands,  rayther  a  sallow  face,  with  sharp  dark  ise,  and  small 
wiskus  neatly  trimmed  and  as  black  as  Warren's  jet — he  spoke 
very  low  and  soft — he  seemed  to  be  watchin  the  person  with 
whom  he  was  in  convysation,  and  always  flatterd  everybody. 
As  for  Blewitt,  he  was  quite  of  another  sort.  He  was  always 
swearin,  singing,  and  slappin  people  on  the  back,  as  hearty  as 
posbill.  He  seemed  a  merry,  careless,  honest  cretur,  whom 
one  would  trust  with  life  and  soul.  So  thought  Dawkins,  at 
least ;  who,  though  a  quiet  young  man,  fond  of  his  boox,  nov- 
vies,  Byron's  poems,  floot-playing,  and  such  like  scientafic  amuse- 
mints,  grew  hand-in-glove  with  honest  Dick  Blewitt,  and  soon 
after  with  my  master,  the  Honrabble  Halgernon.  Poor  Daw  ! 
he  thought  he  was  makin  good  connections  and  real  frends — he 
had  fallen  in  with  a  couple  of  the  most  etrocious  swinlers  that 
ever  lived. 

Before  Mr.  Dawkins's  arrival  in  our  house,  Mr.  Deuceace 
had  barely  condysended  to  speak  to  Mr.  Blewitt ;  it  was  only 
about  a  month  after  that  suckumstance  that  my  master,  all  of 
a  sudding,  grew  very  friendly  with  him.  The  reason  was  pretty 
clear, — Deuceace  7uantcd  him.  Dawkins  had  not  been  an  hour 
in  master's  company  before  he  knew  that  he  had  a  pidgin  to 
pluck. 

Blewitt  knew  this  too  :  and  bein  very  fond  of  pidgin,  in- 
tended to  keep  this  one  entirely  to  himself.  It  was  amusin  to 
see  the  Honrabble  Halgernon  manuvring  to  get  this  poor  bird 
out  of  Blewitt's  clause,  who  thought  he  had  it  safe.  In  fact, 
he'd  brought  Dawkins  to  these  chambers  for  that  very  porpos, 
thinking  to  have  him  under  his  eye,  and  strip  him  at  leisure. 

My  master  very  soon    found  out  what  was    Mr.   Blewitt's 


THE  AMOURS  OF  MR.  DEUCE  ACE.  427 

game.  Gamblers  know  gamblers,  if  not  by  instink,  at  least  by 
reputation  ;  and  though  Mr.  Blewitt  moved  in  a  much  lower 
speare  than  Mr.  Deuceace,  they  knew  each  other's  dealins  and 
caracters  pufifickly  well. 

"  Charles  you  scoundrel,"  says  Deuceace  to  me  one  day  (he 
always  spoak  in  that  kind  way),  "  who  is  this  person  that  has 
taken  the  opsit  chambers,  and  plays  the  flute  so  industrusly  ?  " 

"  It's  Mr.  Dawkins,  a  rich  young  gentleman  from  Oxford, 
and  a  great  friend  of  Mr.  Blewittses,  sir,"  says  I ;  "  they  seem 
to  live  in  each  other's  rooms." 

Master  said  nothink,  but  he  grin'd— my  eye,  how  he  did  gx\\\ 
Not  the  fowl  find  himself  could  snear  more  satannickly. 

I  knew  what  he  meant : 

Imprimish.     A  man  who  plays  the  floot  is  a  simpleton. 

Secknly.     Mr.  Blewitt  is  a  raskle. 

Thirdmo.  When  a  raskle  and  a  simpleton  is  always  to- 
gether, and  when  the  simpleton  is  rich,  one  knows  pretty  well 
what  will  come  of  it. 

I  was  but  a  lad  in  them  days,  but  I  knew  what  was  what, 
as  well  as  my  master  ;  it's  not  gentlemen  only  that's  up  to 
snough.  Law  bless  us  !  there  was  four  of  us  on  this  stairkes, 
four  as  nice  young  men  as  you  ever  see  :  Mr.  Bruffy's  young 
man,  Mr.  Dawkinses,  Mr.  Blewitt's,  and  me — and  we  knew  what 
our  masters  was  about  as  well  as  they  did  theirselfs.  Frinstance, 
I  can  say  this  tor  myself,  there  wasn't  a  paper  in  Deuceace's 
desk  or  drawer,  not  a  bill,  a  note,  or  mimerandum,  which  I 
hadn't  read  as  well  as  he  :  with  Blewitt's  it  was  the  same — me 
and  his  young  man  used  to  read 'em  all.  There  wasn't  a  bottle 
of  wine  that  we  didn't  get  a  glass  out  of,  nor  a  pound  of  sugar 
that  we  didn't  have  some  lumps  of  it.  We  had  keys  to  all  the 
cubbards — we  pipped  into  all  the  letters  that  kem  and  went — ■ 
we  pored  over  all  the  bill-files — we'd  the  best  pickens  out  of 
the  dinners,  the  livvers  of  the  fowls,  the  force-mit  balls  out  of 
the  soup,  the  egs  from  the  sallit.  As  for  the  coals  and  candles, 
we  left  them,  to  the  landrisses.  You  may  call  this  robry — non- 
since — it's  only  our  rights — a  suvvant's  purquizzits  is  as  sacred 
as  the  laws  of  Hengland. 

Well,  the  long  and  short  of  it  is  this.  Richard  Blewitt, 
esquire,  was  sityouated  as  follows  :  He'd  an  incum  of  three 
hunderd  a  year  from  his  father.  Out  of  this  he  had  to  pay 
one  hundred  and  ninety  for  money  borrowed  by  him  atcollidge, 
seventy  for  chambers,  seventy  more  for  his  hoss,  aty  for  his 
suvvant  on  bord  wagis,  and  about  three  hunderd  and  fifty  for 
a  sepparat  establishment  in  the  Regency  Park  ;  besides  this, 


428         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.    YELLOWPLUSR. 

his  pockit-money,  say  a  hunderd,  his  eatin,  drinkin,  and  wine* 
Xiurchant's  bill,  about  two  hunderd  moar.  So  that  you  see  he 
laid  by  a  pretty  handsome  sum  at  the  end  of  the  year. 

My  master  was  diffrent ;  and  being  a  more  fashnabble  man 
than  Mr.  B,,  in  course  he  owed  a  deal  more  mony.  There  was 
fust: 

Account  foj^i'rrty,  at  Crockford's         ....         .  ;£37H  o  o 
Bills  of  xchange  and  I.  O.  U.'s  (but  he  didn't  pay  these 

in  must  cases) 4963  o  o 

21  tailors'  bills,  in  all          .......  1306  11  9 

3  hossdealers'  do. 402  o  o 

2  coaclibuilder     .........  506  o  o 

Bills  contracted  at  Cambridtch 2193  6  8 

Sundries      .         .........  9S7  10  o 

/14069     S     s 

I  give  this  as  a  curosity — pipple  don't  know  how  in  many 
cases  fashnabble  life  is  carried  on  ;  and  to  know  even  what  a 
real  gnlmn  owes  is  somethink  instructif  and  agreeable. 

But  to  my  tail.  The  very  day  after  my  master  had  made 
the  inquiries  concerning  Mr.  Dawkins,  witch  I  mentioned  al- 
ready, he  met  Mr.  Blewitt  on  the  stairs  ;  and  byoutiffle  it  was 
to  see  how  this  genlmn,  who  had  before  been  almost  cut  by  my 
master,  was  now  received  by  him.  One  of  the  sweetest  smiles 
I  ever  saw  was  now  vizzable  on  Mr.  Deuceace's  countenance. 
He  held  out  his  hand,  covered  with  a  white  kid  glove,  and  said, 
in  the  most  frenly  tone  of  vice  posbill,  "  What  t  Mr.  Blewitt  ? 
It  is  an  age  since  we  met.  What  a  shame  that  such  near  nay- 
bors  should  see  each  other  so  seldom  !  " 

Mr.  Blev*'itt,  who  was  standing  at  his  door,  in  a  pe-green 
dressing-gown,  smoakin  a  segar,  and  singing  a  hunting  coarus, 
looked  surprised,  flattered,  and  then  suspicious. 

"  Why,  yes,"  says  he,  "  it  is,  Mr.  Deuceace,  a  long  time." 

"  Not,  I  think,  since  we  dined  at  Sir  George  Hookey'So  By 
the  bye,  what  an  evening  that  was — hay,  Mr.  Blewitt  ?  What 
wine  .''  what  capital  songs  ?  I  recollect  your  '  May-day  in  the 
morning ' — cuss  me,  the  best  comick  song  I  ever  heard.  I  was 
speaking  to  the  Duke  of  Doncaster  about  it  only  yesterday. 
You  know  the  duke,  I  think  t " 

Mr.  Blewitt  said,  quite  surly,  "  No,  I  don't." 

"Not  know  him  !"  cries  master;  "why,  hang  it,  Blewitt! 
he  knows  you  ;  as  every  sporting  man  in  England  does,  I  should 
think.  Why,  man,  your  good  things  are  in  everybody's  mouth 
at  Newmarket." 

And  so  master  went  on  chaffin  Mr.  Blewitt.  That  genlmn  at 
fust  answered  him  quite  short  and  angry  :  but,  after  a  little 


THE  AMOURS  OF  MR.  DEUCE  ACE.  429 

more  flummery,  he  grew  as  pleased  as  posbill,  took  in  all 
Deuceace's  flattry,  and  bleeved  all  his  lies.  At  last  the  door 
shut,  and  they  both  went  into  Mr.  Blewitt's  chambers  together. 

Of  course  I  can't  say  what  past  there ;  but  in  an  hour 
master  kem  up  to  his  own  room  as  yaller  as  mustard,  and 
smellin  sadly  of  backo-smoke.  I  never  see  any  genlmn  more 
sick  than  he  was  ;  hed  been  s^noakin  scagars  along  with  Blewitt. 
I  said  nothink,  in  course,  tho  I'd  often  heard  him  xpress  his 
borrow  of  backo,  and  knew  very  well  he  would  as  soon  swallow 
pizon  as  smoke.  But  he  wasn't  a  chap  to  do  a  thing  without  a 
reason  :  if  he'd  been  smoakin,  I  warrant  he  had  smoked  to 
some  porpus. 

I  didn't  hear  the  convysation  between  'em  ;  but  Mr.  Blewitt's 
man  did  :  it  was, — "  Well,  Mr.  Blewitt,  what  capital  seagars  ! 
Have  you  one  for  a  friend  to  smoak  ?  "  (The  old  fox,  it  wasn't 
only  the  seagars  he  was  a-smoakin!)  "Walk  in,"  says  Mi 
Blewitt ;  and  they  began  a-chaffin  together  ;  master  very  ank- 
shous  about  the  young  gintleman  who  had  come  to  live  in  oui 
chambers,  Mr.  Dawkins,  and  always  coming  back  to  that  sub- 
ject,— saying  that  people  on  the  same  stairkis  ot  to  be  frenly  j 
how  glad  he'd  be  for  his  part  to  know  Mr.  Dick  Blewitt,  and 
a?iy  friend  of  his,  and  so  on.  Mr.  Dick,  howsever,  seamed 
quite  aware  of  the  trap  laid  for  him.  "  I  really  don't  know 
this  Dawkins,"  says  he  :  "  he's  a  chismonger's  son,  I  hear  ;  and 
tho  I've  exchanged  visits  with  him,  I  doan't  intend  to  continyou 
the  acquaintance, — not  wishin  to  assoshate  with  that  kind  of 
pipple."  So  they  went  on,  master  fishin,  and  Mr.  Blewitt  not 
wishin  to  take  the  hook  at  no  price. 

"  Confound  the  vulgar  thief  !  "  muttard  my  master,  as  he 
was  laying  on  his  sophy,  after  being  so  very  ill ;  "  I've  poisoned 
myself  with  his  infernal  tobacco,  and  he  has  foiled  me.  The 
cursed  swindling  boor !  he  thinks  he'll  ruin  this  poor  cheese- 
monger, does  he.?     I'll  step  in,  and  warn  him." 

I  thought  I  should  bust  a-laffin,  when  he  talked  in  this  style. 
I  knew  very  well  \vhat  his  "warning"  meant, — lockin  the 
stable  door  but  stealin  the  boss  fust. 

Next  day,  his  strattygam  for  becoming  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Dawkins  we  exicuted  ;  and  very  pritty  it  was. 

Besides  potry  and  the  flute,  Mr.  Dawkins,  I  must  tell  you, 
had  some  other  parshallities — wiz.,  he  was  very  fond  of  good 
eatin  and  drinkin.  After  doddling  over  his  music  and  boox  all 
day,  this  young  genlmn  used  to  sally  out  of  evenings,  dine 
sumptiously  at  a  tavern,  drinkin  all  sots  of  wine  along  with  his 
friend  Mr.  Blewitt.     He  was  a  quiet  young  fellow  enough  af 


430         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  'J.    YELLOWPLUSR. 

fust ;  but  it  was  Mr.  B,  who  (for  his  own  porpuses,  no  doubt,") 
had  got  him  into  this  kind  of  life.  Well,  I  needn't  say  that  he 
who  eats  a  fine  dinner,  and  drinks  too  much  overnight,  wants  a 
bottle  of  sodawater,  and  a  gril,  praps,  in  the  morning.  Such 
was  Mr.  Dawkinses  case  ;  and  reglar  almost  as  twelve  o'clock 
came,  the  waiter  from  "  Dix  Coffy-house  "  was  to  be  seen  on 
our  stairkis,  bringing  up  Mr.  D.'s  hot  breakfast. 

No  man  would  have  thought  there  was  anythink  in  such  a 
trifling  cirkumstance  ;  master  did,  though,  and  pounced  upon 
it  like  a  cock  on  a  barlycorn. 

He  sent  me  out  to  Mr.  Morell's  in  Pickledilly,  for  wot's 
called  a  Strasbug-pie — in  French,  a  ^'' patty  dcfau  grazu."  He 
takes  a  card,  and  nails  it  on  the  outside  case  (patty  defaw  graws 
come  generally  in  a  round  wooden  box,  like  a  drumb)  ;  and 
what  do  you  think  he  writes  on  it  ?  why,  as  folios  : — "  For  tJu 
Honorable  Algenwfi  Percy  Deuceace,  &^e.,  &^c.,  &=€,  With  Prince 
TaHeyrana  's  compliments. ' ' 

Prince  Tallyram's  complimints,  indeed  !  I  laff  when  I 
think  of  it,  still,  the  old  surpint !  He  7vas  a  surpint,  that  Deuce- 
ace,  and  no  mistake. 

Well,  by  a  most  extrornary  piece  of  ill-luck,  the  nex  day 
punctially  as  Mr.  Dawkinses  brexfas  was  coming  up  the  stairs, 
Mr.  Halgernon  Percy  Deuceace  was  going  dojvn.  He  was  as 
gay  as  a  lark,  humming  an  Oppra  tune,  and  twizzting  round  his 
"  head  his  hevy  gold-headed  cane.  Down  he  went  very  fast,  and 
by  a  most  unlucky  axdent  struck  his  cane  against  the  waiter's 
tray,  and  away  went  Mr.  Dawkinses  gril,  kayann,  kitchup,  soda- 
water  and  all !  I  can't  think  how  my  master  should  have  choas 
such  an  exact  time  ;  to  be  sure,  his  windo  looked  upon  the  cort, 
and  he  could  see  every  one  who  came  into  our  door. 

As  soon  as  the  axdent  had  took  place,  master  was  in  such  a 
rage  as,  to  be  sure,  no  man  ever  was  in  befor ;  he  swoar  at  the 
waiter  in  the  most  dreddfle  way;  he  threatened  him  with  bis 
stick,  and  it  was  only  when  he  see  that  the  waiter  was  rayther  a 
bigger  man  than  hisself  that  he  was  in  the  least  pazzyfied.  He 
returned  to  his  own  chambres  ;  and  John,  the  waiter,  went  off 
for  more  gril  to  Dixes  Coffy-house. 

"  This  is  a  most  unlucky  axdent,  to  be  sure,  Charles,"  says 
snaster  to  me,  after  a  few  minits  paws,  during  witch  he  had 
been  and  wrote  a  note,  put  it  into  an  anvelope,  and  sealed  it 
with  his  big  seal  of  arms.  "  But  stay — a  thought  strikes  me — • 
take  this  note  to  Mr.  Dawkins,  and  that  pye  you  brought  yester- 
day ;  and  hearkye,  you  scoundrel,  if  you  say  where  you  got  it  \ 
will  break  every  bone  in  your  skin ! " 


THE  AMOURS  OF  MR.  DEUCEACE.  431 

These  kind  of  prommises  were  among  the  few  which  I  knew 
him  to  keep  :  and  as  I  loved  boath  my  skinn  and  my  boans,  I 
carried  the  noat,  and  of  cors  said  nothink.  Waiting  in  Mr. 
Dawkinses  chambus  for  a  few  minnits,  I  returned  to  my  master 
with  an  anser.  I  may  as  well  give  both  of  these  documence,  of 
which  I  happen  to  have  taken  coppies  : 


THE  HON.  A.  p.  DEUCEACE  TO  T.  S.  DAWKINS,  ESQ. 

Tetnple,  Tuesday. 

"  Mr.  Deuceace  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr.  Dawkins,  and  begs  at  the  same  time  to 
offer  his  most  sincere  apologies  and  regrets  for  the  accident  which  has  just  taken  place. 

"  May  Mr.  Deuceace  be  allowed  to  take  a  neighbor's  privilege,  and  to  remedy  the  evil  ha 
has  occasioned  to  the  best  of  his  power  ?  If  Mr.'  Dawkins  will  do  him  the  favor  to  partaka 
of  tlie  contents  of  the  accompanying  case  (from  Strasbourg  direct,  and  the  gift  of  a  friend, 
on  whose  taste  as  a  gourmand  Mr.  Dawkins  may  rely),  perhaps  he  will  find  that  it  is  not  a 
bad  substitute  for  the  flat  which  Mr.  Deuceace's  awkwardness  destroyed. 

"  It  will  also,  Mr.  Deuceace  is  sure,  be  no  small  gratification  to  the  original  donor  of  the 
jW/f,  when  he  learns  that  it  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  so  celebrated  a  bon-vivaiit  as  Mr. 
Dawkins. 

"  T.  S.  Dawkitis,  Esq.,  &'c.,  &=€.,  &>€." 

II. 

FROM  T.  S.  DAWKINS,  ESQ.,  TO  THE  HON.  A.  P.  DEUCEACE. 

"  Mr.  Thomas  Smith  Dawiiins  presents  his  grateful  compliments  to  the  Hon.  Mr. 
Deuceace,  and  accepts  with  the  greatest  pleasure  Mr.  Deuceace's  generous  proffer. 

"  It  would  be  one  of  the /w/'/zW;'  moments  of  Mr.  Smith  Dawkins's  life  if  the  Hon. 
Mr.  Deuceace  would  <'jr/^«(//z?j-.^^«^ri?j-/0' still  further,  and  condescend  to  partake  of  the 
repast  which  his   munificent  poliietiess  has  furnished. 

"  Temple,  Tuesday." 

Many  and  many  a  time,  I  say,  have  I  grin'd  over  these 
letters,  which  I  had  wrote  from  the  original  by  Mr.  Bruffy's 
copying  dark.  Deuceace's  flam  about  Prince  Tallyram  was 
puffickly  successful.  I  saw  young  Dawkins  blush  with  delite 
as  he  red  the  note ;  he  tore  up  for  or  five  sheets  before  he  com- 
posed the  answer  to  it,  which  was  as  you  red  abuff,  and  roat  in 
a  hand  quite  trembling  with  pleasyer.  If  you  could  but  have  seen 
the  look  of  triumph  in  Deuceace's  wicked  black  eyes,  when  he 
read  the  noat  !  I  never  see  a  deamin  yet,  but  I  can  phansy  i, 
a  holding  a  writhing  soal  on  his  pitchfork,  and  smilin  like 
Deauceace.  He  dressed  himself  in  his  ver}'  best  clothes,  and 
in  he  went,  after  sending  me  over  to  say  that  he  would  xcept 
with  pleasyour  Mr.  Dawkins's  invite. 

The  pie  was  cut  up,  and  a  most  frenly  conversation  begua 


432         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

betwixt  the  two  genlmin.  Deuceace  was  quite  captivating. 
He  spoke  to  Mr.  Dawkins  in  the  most  respeckful  and  flatrin 
manner, — agread  in  every  think  he  said, — prazed  his  taste,  his 
furniter,  his  coat,  his  classick  nolledge,  and  his  playin  on  the 
floot ;  you'd  have  thought,  to  hear  him,  that  such  a  polygon  of 
exlens  as  Dawkins  did  not  breath, — that  such  a  modist,  sinsear, 
honrabble  genhiin  as  Deuceace  was  to  be  seen  nowhere  xcept 
in  Pump  Cort.  Poor  Daw  was  comphtly  taken  in.  My  master 
said  he'd  introduce  him  to  the  Duke  of  Doncr.ster,  and  heaven 
knows  how  many  nobs  more,  till  Dawkins  was  quite  intawsicated 
with  pleasyour.  I  know  as  a  fac  (and  it  pretty  well  shows  the 
young  genlmn's  carryter),  that  he  went  that  very  day  and 
"ordered  2  new  coats,  on  porpos  to  be  introjuiced  to  the  lords  in. 

But  the  best  joak  of  all  was  at  last.  Singin,  swagrin,  and 
swarink — up  stares  came  Mr.  Dick  Blewitt.  He  flung  open 
Mr.  Dawkin's  door,  shouting  out,  "  Daw  my  old  Buck,  how  are 
you  ? "  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  he  sees  !Mr.  Deuceace  :  his  jor 
dropt,  he  turned  chocky  white,  and  then  burnin  red,  and  looked 
as  if  a  stror  would  knock  him  down.  "  My  dear  Mr.  Blewitt," 
says  my  master,  smilin  and  offring  his  hand,  "  how  glad  I  am 
to  see  you.  Mr.  Dawkins  and  I  were  just  talking  about  your 
pony  !     Pray  sit  down." 

Blewitt  did ;  and  now  was  the  question,  who  should  sit  the 
other  out ;  but  law  bless  you  !  Mr.  Blewitt  was  no  match  for  my 
master  :  all  the  time  he  was  fidgetty,  silent,  and  sulky ;  on  the 
contry,  master  was  charmin.  I  never  herd  such  a  flo  of  conver- 
sation, or  so  many  wittacisms  as  he  uttered.  At  last,  completely 
beat,  Mr.  Blewitt  took  his  leaf ;  that  instant  master  followed 
him  ;  and  passin  his  arm  through  that  of  Mr.  Dick,  led  him  into 
our  chambers,  and  began  talkin  to  him  in  the  most  afifabl  and 
affeekshnat  manner. 

But  Dick  was  too  angr}^  to  listen  ;  at  last,  when  master  was 
telling  him  some  long  story  about  the  Duke  of  Doncaster, 
Blewitt  burst  out — 

"  A  plague  on  the  Duke  of  Doncaster  !  Come,  come,  Mr. 
Deuceace,  don't  you  be  running  your  rigs  upon  me  ;  I  ain't  the 
man  to  be  bamboozl'd  by  long-winded  stories  about  dukes  and 
duchesses.  You  think  I  don't  know  you  ;  every  man  knows 
you  and  your  line  of  country.     Yes,  you're  after  young  Dawkins 

there,  and  think  to  pluck  him  ;  but  you  sha'n't, — no,  by ■ 

you  sha'n't."  (The  reader  must  recklect  that  the  oaths  which 
interspussed  Mr.  B's  convysation  I  have  left  out.)  Well,  after 
he'd  fired  a  wolley  of  'em,  Mr.  Deuceace  spoke  as  cool  as 
possbill. 


I 


TIJE  AMOURS  OF  MR.  DEUCE  ACE. 


433 


'*  Heark  ye,  Blewitt,  I  know  you  to  be  one  of  the  most  ii> 
fernai  thieves  and  scoundrels  unhung.  If  you  attempt  to  hector 
with  me,  I  will  cane  you  ;  if  you  want  more,  I'll  shoot  you  ;  ii: 
you  meddle  between  me  and  Dawkins,  I  will  do  both,  I  know 
your  whole  life,  you  miserable  swindler  and  coward.  I  knov? 
3-ou  have  already  won  two  hundred  pounds  of  this  lad,  and  wan': 
all.  I  will  have  half,  or  you  never  shall  have  a  penny,"  It's 
quite  true  that  master  knew  things  \  but  how  was  the  wonder. 

I  couldn't  see  Mr.  R's  face  during  this  dialogue,  bein  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  door ;  but  there  was  a  considdrable  paws 
after  those  complymints  had  passed  between  the  two  genhnn, 
— one  walkin.  quickly  up  and  down  the  room, — tother,  angry  and 
stupid,  sittin  down,  and  stampin  with  his  foot, 

''  Now  listen  to  this,  Mr,  Blewitt,"  continues  master  at  last. 
"  If  you're  quiet,  you  shall  half  this  fellow's  money :  but 
venture  to  win  a  shilling  from  him  in  my  absence,  or  without 
my  consent,  and  you  do  it  at  your  peril," 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Deuceace,"  cries  Dick,  "  it's  very  hard^ 
and  I  must  say,  not  fair  :  the  game  was  of  my  startin,  and  you've 
no  right  to  interfere  with  my  friend." 

"  Mr.  Blewitt,  you  are  a  fool !  You  professed  yesterday 
not  to  know  this  man,  and  I  was  obliged  to  find  him  out  for 
myself.  I  should  like  to  know  by  what  law  of  honor  I  am 
bound  to  give  him  up  to  you  .■' " 

It  was  charmin  to  hear  this  pair  of  raskles  talking  about 
hofwi;  I  declare  I  could  have  found  it  in  my  heart  to  warn  young 
Dawkins  of  the  precious  way  in  whicli  these  chaps  were  going 
to  serve  him.  But  if  they  didn't  know  v;hat  honor  was,  /did  ; 
and  never,  never  did  I  cell  tails  about  my  masters  when  in  theii 
sarvice — out,  in  cors,  the  hobligatiou  is  no  longer  binding. 

Well,  the  next  day  there  was  a  gran  dinner  at  our  chambers. 
White  soop,  turbit,  and  lobstir  sos ;  saddil  of  Scoch  niuttn, 
grous,  and  M'Arony  ;  wines,  champagn,  hock,  maderia,  a  bottle 
of  poart,  and  ever  so  many  of  clarrit.  The  compny  presint  was 
three  ;  wiz.,  the  Honrabble  A.  P.  Deuceace,  R.  Blewitt,  and 
Mr.  Dawkins,  Exquires.  My  i,  how  we  genlmn  in  the  kitchin 
did  enjy  it.  Mr.  Blewittes  man  eat  so  much  grous  (when  it 
was  brot  out  of  the  parlor),  that  I  reely  thought  he  would  be 
sik  ;  Mr.  Dawkinses  genlmn  (who  was  only  abowt  13  years  of 
age)  grew  so  il  with  M'Arony  and  plumb-puddn,  as  to  be 
obleeged  to  take  sefral  of  Mr.  D's  pils,  which  Yz  kild  him.  But 
this  is  all  promiscuous  :  I  an't  talkin  of  the  survants  now,  but 
the  masters. 

Would  you  bleeve  it  ?     After  dinner  and  praps  8  bottles  of 


434        THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

wine  between  the  3,  the  genhn  sat  down  \oecarty.  It's  a  game 
where  only  2  plays,  and  where,  in  coarse,  when  there's  only  3, 
one  looks  on. 

Fust,  they  playd  crown  pints,  and  a  pound  the  bett.  At 
this  game  they  were  wonderful  equill  ;  and  about  supper-lime 
(when  grilled  am,  more  champang,  devld  biskits,  and  other 
things,  was  brot  in)  the  play  stox)d  thus:  Mr.  Dawkins  had  won 
2  pounds ;  Mr,  Blewitt,  30  shillings ;  the  Honrabble  Mr. 
Deuceace  having  lost  3/,  \.qs.  After  the  devvle  and  the  sham- 
pang  the  play  was  a  little  higher.  Now  it  was  pound  pints,  and 
five  pound  the  bet,  I  thought  to  be  sure,  after  hearing  the 
complymints  between  Blewitt  and  master  in  the  morning,  that 
now  poor  Dawkins's  time  was  come. 

Not  so:  Dawkins  won  always,  Mr.  B.  betting  on  his  play, 
and  giving  him  the  very  best  of  advice.  At  the  entl  of  the 
evening  (which  was  abowt  five  o'clock  the  nex  morning)  thej 
stopt,     Master  was  counting  up  the  skore  on  a  card, 

"Blewitt,"  says  he,  "I've  been  unlucky,  I  owe  you — let 
me  see — -yes,  five-and-forty  pounds  ?  " 

"  Five-and-forty,"  said  Blewitt,  "  and  no  mistake  !" 

"I  will  giveyou  a  check,"  says  the  honrabble  genlmn. 

"  Oh  !  don't  mention  it,  my  dear  sir  !  "  But  master  got  a 
great  sheet  of  paper,  and  drew  him  a  check  on  Messeers,  Pump, 
Algit  and  Co.,  his  bankers. 

"Now,"  says  master,  "  I've  got  to  settle  with  you,  my  dear 
Mr,  Dawkins.  If  you  had  backd  your  luck,  I  should  have 
owed  you  a  very  handsome  sum  of  monev.  Voyons,  thirteen 
points  at  a  pound — it  is  easy  to  calculate  ;"  and  drawin  out  his 
puss,  he  clinked  over  the  table  13  goolden  suverings,  which 
shon  till  they  made  my  eyes  wink. 

So  did  pore  Dawkinses,  as  he  put  out  his  hand,  all  trenv 
bling,  and  drew  them  in. 

"  Let  me  say,"  added  master,  "  let  me  say  (and  I've  had 
some  little  experience),  that  you  are  the  very  best  (fira/-// player 
with  whom  I  ever  sat  down." 

Dawkinses  eyesglissened  as  he  put  the  money  up,  and  said, 
"  I^aw,  Deuceace,  you  flatter  me." 

Flatter  him  !  I  should  think  he  did.  It  was  the  very  think 
which  master  ment. 

"  But  mind  you,  Dawkins,"  continyoud  he,  "  I  must  have  my 
revenge  ;  for  I'm  ruined — positively  ruined — by  your  luck." 

''Well,  well,"  says  Mr.  Thomas  Smith  Dawkins,  as  pleased 
as  if  ye  had  gained  a  millium,  "  shall  it  be  to-morrow  ?  Blewitt, 
what  say  you  ?  " 


J 


THE  AMOURS  OF  MR.  DEUCE  ACE, 


435 


Mr.  Blewitt  agreed,  in  course.  My  master,  after  a  little 
demurring,  consented  too.  "  We'll  meet,"  says  he,  "  at  your 
chambers.  But  my  dear  fello,  not  too  mucli  wine  :  I  can't 
stand  it  at  any  time,  especially  when  I  have  to  play  ccarte  with 
you.''^ 

Pore  Dawkins  left  our  rooms  as  happy  as  a  prins.  "  Here, 
Charles,"  says  he,  and  flung  me  a  sovring.  Pore  fellow !  pore 
fellow  !  I  knew  what  was  a-comin  ! 

But  the  best  of  it  was,  that  these  13  sovrings  which  Dawkins 
won,  master  had  bonvwed  than  from  Mr.  Blewitt !  I  brought 
'em  with  7  more,  from  that  young  genlmn's  chambers  that  very 
morning :  for  since  his  interview  with  master,  Blewitt  had 
nothing  to  refuse  him. 


Well,  shall  I  continue  the  tail  ?  If  Mr.  Dawkins  had  been 
the  least  bit  wiser,  it  would  have  taken  him  six  months  befoar 
he  lost  hismoney;  as  it  was,  he  was  such  a  confunded  ninny, 
that  it  took  him  a  very  short  time  to  part  with  it. 

Next  day  (it  was  Thursday,  and  master's  acquaintance  with 
Mr.  Dawkins  had  only  commenced  on  Tuesday),  Mr.  Dawkins, 
as  I  said,  gev  his  party, — dinner  at  7.  Mr.  Blewitt  and  the 
two  Mr.  D.'s  as  befoar.  Play  begins  at  11.  This  time  I  knew 
the  business  was  pretty  serious,  for  we  suvvants  was  packed  off 
to  bed  at  2  o'clock.  On  Friday,  I  went  to  chambers — no  mas- 
ter— he  kem  in  for  5  minutes  at  about  12,  made  a  little  toilit, 
ordered  more  devvles  and  soda-water,  and  back  again  he  went 
to  Mr.  Dawkins's. 

They  had  dinner  there  at  7  again,  but  nobody  seamed  to 
eat,  for  all  the  vittles  caiT>e  out  to  us  genlmn  :  they  h.ad  in 
more  wine  though,  and  must  have  drunk  at  least  two  dozen  in 
the  2fi  hours. 

At  ten  o'clock,  however,  on  Friday  night,  back  my  master 
came  to  his  chambers.  I  saw  him  as  I  never  saw  him  before, 
namly  reglar  drunk.  He  staggered  about  the  room,  he  danced, 
he  hickipd,  he  swoar,  he  flung  me  a  heap  of  sih'er,  and  finely, 
he  sunk  down  exosted  on  his  bed  ;  I  pullin  off  his  boots  and 
close,  and  making  him  comfrable. 

When  I  had  removed  his  garmints,  I  did  what  it's  the  duty 
of  every  servant  to  do — I  emtied  his  pockits,  and  looked  at  his 
pockit-book  and  all  his  letters  :  a  number  of  axdents  have 
been  prevented  that  way. 

I  found  there,  among  a  heap  of  things,  the  following  pretty 
dockyment : — 


436         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 


I.      O.      U. 

;^4700. 

Thomas  Smith  Dawkins 
Friday,  i6th  yafiuary. 


There  was  another  bit  of  paper  of  the  same  kind — "  I,  O. 
U.  four  hundred  pounds  :  Richard  Blewitt : "  but  this,  in  corse, 

ment  nothink. 

■#  *  *  *  # 

Nex  mornin,  at  nine,  master  was  up,  and  as  sober  as  a  judg. 
He  drest,  and  was  off  to  Mr.  Dawkins.  At  ten,  he  ordered  a 
cab,  and  the  two  genthnn  went  together. 

"  Where  shall  he  drive,  sir  1  "  says  I, 

"  Oh,  tell  him  to  drive  to  the  Bank." 

Pore  Dawkins  !  his  eyes  red  with  remors  and  sleepliss 
drunkeniss,  gave  a  shudder  and  a  sob,  as  he  sunk  back  in  the 
wehicle ;  and  they  drove  on. 

That  day  he  sold  out  every  hapny  he  was  worth,  xcept  five 

hundred  pounds. 

*  *  *  *  * 

Abowt  12  master  had  returned,  and  Mr.  Dick  Blewitt  came 
stridin  up  the  stairs  with  a  solium  and  important  hair. 

"  Is  your  master  at  home  ?  "  says  he. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  I ;  and  in  he  walks.  I,  in  coars,  with  my 
ear  to  the  keyhole,  listning  with  all  my  mite. 

"Well,"  says  Blewitt,  "  we  maid  a  pretty  good  night  of  it, 
Mr.  Deuceace.     Yu've  settled,  I  see^with  Dawkins." 

"  Settled  !  "  says  master.  "Oh,  yes — yes — I've  settled  with 
him." 

"  Four  thousand  seven  hundred,  I  think  }  " 

"  About  that — yes." 

"  That  makes  my  share — let  me  see — two  thousand  three 
hundred  and  fifty ;  which  I'll  thank  you  to  fork  out." 

"  Upon  my  word — why — Mr.  Blewitt,"  says  master,  "  I  don't 
really  understand  what  you  mean." 

"  Vou  doti't  know  ivhat  I  mean  /"  says  Blewitt,  in  an  axent 
such  as  I  never  before  heard.  "You  don't  know  what  I  mean! 
Did  you  not  promise  me  that  we  were  to  go  shares  ?  Didn't  I 
lend  you  twenty  sovereigns  the  other  night  to  pay  our  losings 
to  Dawkins  !  Didn't  you  swear,  on  your  honor  as  a  gentle- 
man, to  srive  me  half  of  all  that  might  be  won  in  this  affair.^ " 


FORING  PARTS. 


437 


"  Agreed,  sir,"  says  Deuceace  ;  "  agreed." 
"  Well,  sir,  and  now  what  have  you  to  say  ?  " 
"  \\'hy,  that  I  don't  intend  to  keep  my  promise  !  You  infernal 
fool  and  ninny  !  do  you  suppose  I  was  laboring  for  you  ?  Do 
you  fancy  I  was  going  to  the  expense  of  giving  a  dinner  to 
that  jackass  yonder,  that  you  should  profit  by  it  ?  Get  away, 
sir  !  Leave  the  room,  sir  !  Or,  stop — here — I  will  give  you 
four  hundred  pounds — your  own  note  of  hand,  sir,  for  that  sum, 
if  you  will  consent  to  forget  all  that  has  passed  between  us, 
and  that  you  have  never  known  Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace." 

I've  seen  pipple  angery  before  now,  but  never  any  like 
Blewitt.  He  stormed,  groaned,  helloed,  swoar  !  At  last,  he 
fairly  began  blubbring  ;  now  cussing  and  nashing  his  teeth,  now 
praying  dear  Mr.  Deuceace  to  grant  him  mercy. 

At  last,  master  flung  open  the  door  (heaven  bless  us  !  it's 
well  I  didn't  tumble  bed  over  eels  into  the  room  !),  and  said, 
"  Charles,  show  the  gentleman  down  stairs  !  "  My  master  looked 
at  him  quite  steddy.  Blewitt  slunk  down,  as  misrabble  as  any 
man  I  ever  see.     As  for  Dawkins,  heaven  knows  where  he  was. 

"  Charles,"  says  my  master  to  me,  about  an  hour  afterwards^' 
*'  I'm  going  to  Paris ;  you  may  come,  too,  if  you  please." 


FORING   PARTS. 


It  was  a  singular  proof  of  my  master's  modesty,  that  though 
he  had  won  this  andsome  sum  of  Mr.  Dawkins,  and  was  inclined 
to  be  as  extravygant  and  osntatious  as  any  man  I  ever  seed, 
yet,  when  he  determined  on  going  to  Paris,  he  didn't  let  a 
single  frend  know  of  all  them  winnings  of  his ;  didn't  acquaint 
my  Lord  Crabs  his  father,  that  he  was  about  to  leave  his  natiff 
shoars — neigh — didn't  even  so  much  as  call  together  his  trades- 
min,  and  pay  off  their  little  bills  befor  his  departure. 

On  the  contry,  "  Chawles,"  said  he  to  me,  "  stick  a  piece  of 
paper  on  my  door,"  which,  is  the  way  that  lawyers  do,  "and 
write  '  Back  at  seven  '  upon  it."  Back  at  seven  I  wrote,  and 
stuck  it  on  our  outer  oak.  And  so  mistearus  was  Deuceace 
abou*^  his  continental  tour  (to  all  except  me),  that  when  ths 


438  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.   C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

landriss  brought  him  her  account  for  the  last  month  (amountain, 
at  the  very  least,  to  2/.  loj-.),  master  told  her  to  leave  it  till 
Monday  morning,  when  it  should  be  properly  settled.  It's 
extrodny  how  ickonomical  a  man  becomes,  when  he's  got  five 
thousand  lbs.  in  his  pockit. 

Back  at  7  indeed  !  At  7  we  were  a-roalin  on  the  Dover 
Road,  in  the  Reglator  Coach — master  inside,  me  out.  A 
strange  company  of  people  there  was,  too,  in  that  wehicle, — 3 
sailors  ;  an  Italyin  with  his  music-box  and  munky  ;  a  missionary, 
going  to  convert  the  heathens  in  France  ;  2  oppra  girls  (they 
call  'em  figure-aunts),  and  the  figure-aunts'  mothers  inside  ;  4 
Frenchmin,  with  gingybred  caps  and  mustaches,  singing,  chat- 
tering, and  jestiklating  in  the  most  vonderful  vay.  Such  com- 
pliments as  passed  between  them  and  the  figure-aunts  !  such  a 
munshin  of  biskits  and  sippin  of  brandy  !  such  "  O  mong  Jews," 
and  "  O  sacrrres,"  and  "  kill  fay  frwaws  !  "  1  didn't  understand 
their  languidge  at  that  time,  so  of  course  can't  igsplain  much 
of  their  conwersation  ;  but  it  pleased  me,  nevertheless,  for  now 
I  felt  that  I  was  reely  going  into  foring  parts  :  which,  ever  sins 
I  had  had  any  edication  at  all,  was  always  my  fondest  wish. 
'Heavin  bless  us  !  thought  I,  if  these  are  specimeens  of  all 
Frenchmen,  what  a  set  they  must  be.  The  pore  Italyin's 
monky,  sittin  mopin  and  meluncoUy  on  his  box,  was  not  half 
so  ugly,  and  seamed  quite  as  reasonabble. 

Well,  we  arrived  at  Dover — "  Ship  Hotel  " — weal  cutlets 
half  a  ginny,  glas  of  ale  a  shilling,  glas  of  neagush,  half-a-crownd, 
a  hapny-worth  of  wax-lites  four  shillings,  and  so  on.  But 
master  paid  without  grumbling  ;  as  long  as  it  was  for  himself 
he  never  minded  the  expens  ;  and  nex  day  we  embarked  in  the 
packit  for  Balong  sir-mare — which  means  in  French,  the  town 
of  Balong  sityouated  on  the  sea.  I  who  had  heard  of  foring 
wonders,  expected  this  to  be  the  fust  and  greatest  :  phansy, 
then,  my  disapintment,  when  we  got  there,  to  find  this  Balong, 
not  situated  on  the  sea,  but  on  the  shoar. 

But  oh !  the  gettin  there  was  the  bisniss.  How  I  d;d  wish 
for  J^Lunp  Court  agin,  as  we  were  tawsing  abowt in  the  Channel  ! 
Gentle  reader,  av  you  ever  been  on  the  otion  ? — "  The  sea,  the 
sea,  the  open  sea !  "  as  Barry  Cromwell  says.  As  soon  as  we 
entered  our  little  wessel,  and  I'd  looked  to  master's  luggitch 
and  mine  (mine  was  rapt  up  in  a  very  small  hankercher),  as 
soon,  I  say,  as  we  entered  our  little  wessel,  as  soon  as  I  saw  the 
waives,  black  and  frothy,  like  fresh  drawn  porter,  a-dashin 
against  the  ribs  of  our  galliant  bark,  the  keal  like  a  wedge, 
splittin  the  billoes  in   two,  the  sales  a-flaffin   in  the  hair,  the 


FORING  PARTS. 


439 


standard  of  Hengland  floating  at  the  mask-head,  the  steward 
a-getting  ready  the  basins  and  things,  the  capting  proudly  tred- 
dino"  the  deck  and  giving  orders  to  the  salers,  the  white  rox  of 
Albany  and  the  bathin-niasheens  disappearing  in  the  distans — 
then,  then  I  felt,  for  the  first  time,  the  mite,  the  madgisty  of 
existence.  "  Yellowplush  my  boy,"  said  I,  in  a  dialogue  with 
myself,  "  your  life  is  now  about  to  commens — your  carear,  as  a 
man,  dates  from  your  entrans  on  board  this  packit.  Be  wise, 
be  manly,  be  cautious,  forgit  the  follies  of  your  youth.  You  are 
no  longer  a  boy  now,  but  a  footman.  Throw  down  your  tops, 
your  marbles,  your  boyish  games — throw  off  your  childish 
babbits  with  your  inky  clerk's  jackit — throw  up  your " 

Here,  I  recklect,  I  was  obleeged  to  stopp,  A  fealin,  in  the 
fust  place  singlar,  in  the  next  place  painful,  and  atiastcom- 
pleatly  overpowering,  had  come  ui^on  me  while  I  was  making 
the  abuff  speach,  and  now  I  found  myself  in  a  sityouation  which 
Dellixy  for  Bids  me  to  describe.  Sufifis  to  say,  that  now  I  dix- 
covered  what  basins  was  made  for — that  for  many,  many  hours, 
I  lay  in  a  hagony  of  exostion,  dead  to  all  intense  and  purixjses, 
the  rain  pattering  in  my  face,  tl"ie  salers  tramplink  over  my  body 
-^the  panes  of  purgatory  going  on  inside.  When  we'd  been 
about  four  hours  in  this  sityouation  (it  seani'd  to  me  four  ears), 
the  steward  comes  to  that  part  of  the  deck  where  we  servants 
were  all  huddled  uj)  together,  and  calls  out  "  Charles  !  " 

"  Well,"  says  I,  gurgling  out  a  faint  "  yes,  what's  the 
matter?" 

"  You're  wanted.' 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  Your  master's  wery  ill,"  says  he,  with  a  grin. 

"  Master  be  hanged  ! "  says  I,  turning  round,  more  raisrable 
than  ever.  I  woodn't  have  moved  that  day  for  twenty  thousand 
masters — no,  not  for  the  Empror  of  Russia  or  the  Pop  of 
Room. 

Well,  to  cut  this  sad  subjick  short,  many  and  manyavoyitch 
have  I  sins  had  upon  what  Shakspur  calls  the  "  wasty  dip,"  but 
never  such  a  retched  one  as  that  from  Dover  to  Balong,  '\\\  the 
year  Anna  Domino  i8i8.  Steemers  were  scarce  in  those  days  \ 
and  our  journey  was  made  in  a  smack.  At  last,  when  I  was  in 
a  stage  of  despare  and  exostion,  as  reely  to  phansy  myself  at 
Death's  doar,  we  got  to  the  end  of  our  journey.  Late  in  the 
evening  we  hailed  the  Gaelic  shoars,  and  hankered  in  the  arbor 
of  Balong  sir-mare. 

It  was  the  entrans  of  Parrowdice  to  me  and  master  :  and  as 


440         THE  MEATOTRS  OF  MR.  C.J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

Mie  entered  the  calm  water,  and  saw  the  corafrabble  lights 
gleaming  in  the  houses,  and  felt  the  roal  of  the  vessel  degreas- 
ing,  never  was.  two  mortials  gladder,  I  warrant,  than  we  were. 
At  length  our  capting  drew  up  at  the  key,  and  our  joumey  was 
down.  But  such  a  bustle  and  clatter,  swch  jabbering,  such 
shrieking  and  swaring,  such  woUies  of  oafs  and  axicrations  as 
saluted  us  on  landing,  I  never  knew  !  We  were  boarded,  in  the 
fust  place,  by  custom-house  officers  in  cock-hats,  who  seased 
our  luggitch,  and  called  for  our  passpots  r  then  a  cro-wd  of  inn- 
waiters  came,  tumbling  and  screaming  on  deck — "  Dis  way, 
sare,^^  cries  one;  "Hotel  Meurice,"  says  anO'ther;  "-Hote}  de 
Bang,"  screeches  another  chap — the  tower  of  Babyle  was 
nothink  to  it.  The  fust  thing  that  struck  me  on  landing  was  a 
big  fellow  with  earrings,  who  very  nigh  knock  me  do'wn,  ira 
wrenching  master's  carpet-bag  out  of  my  hand,  as  I  was  carr)-- 
ing  it  tO'  the  hotelL  But  we  got  ta  it  safe  at  last ;,  and,,  for  the 
fust  time  in  my  life,  I  slep  in  a  fo-ring-  country. 

I  sha'n't  describe  this  tawn  of  Balong,  which,  as  it  has  beers 
visited  by  not  less  (on  an  av3ridg)than  twomiliiuants  of  English 
since  I  fust  saw  it  twenty  years  ago,  is  tolrabbly  well  known 
already.  It's  a  dingy  mellumcolly  place,  to-  my  mind  ;  the  only- 
thing  moving  in  the  streets  is  the  gutter  which  nms  down  'em. 
As  for  wooden  shoes,  I  saw  few  of  'em  ;  and  for  frogs,  upon  my 
honor  I  never  see  a  single  Frenchman  swallow  one,  which  I  had 
been  led  to  beleave  was  their  reg'lar,  though  beastly,  custom. 
One  thing  which  amazed  me  was  the  singlar  name  which  they 
give  to  this  town  of  Balong.  It's  divided,  as  every  boddy 
knows,  into  an  upper  towTt  (sityouate  on  a  mounting,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  wall,  or  btdlyvar)  and  a  lower  town,  which  is  on 
the  level  of  the  sea.  Well,  will  it  be  believed  that  they  call  the 
upper  town  the  Hot  Veal,  and  the  other  the  Base  Veal,  which  is 
on  the  contry,  genrally  good  in  France,  though  the  beaf,  it  must 
be  confest,  is  exscrabble. 

It  was  in  the  Base  Veal  that  Deuceace  took  his  lodgian,  at 
the  Hotel  de  Bang,  in  a  very  crooked  street  called  the  Rue  del 
Ascew  ;  and  if  he'd  been  the  Archbishop  of  Devonshire,  or  the 
Duke  of  Canterbury,  he  could  not  have  given  himself  greater 
hairs>  I  can  tell  you.  Nothing  was  too  fine  for  us  nov/ ;  we 
had  a  sweet  of  rooms  on  the  first  floor,  which  belonged  to  the 
prime  minister  of  France  (at  least  the  landlord  said  they  were 
the  premier' s)  ;  and  the  Hon.  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace,  who 
had  not  paid  his  landriss,  and  came  to  Dover  in  a  coach, 
seamed  now  to  think  that  goold  was  too  vulgar  for  him,  and  u 
carridge  and  six  would  break  down  with  a  man  of  his  weight 


FORING  PARTS.  4^^ 

Champang  flew  about  like  ginger-pop,  besides  bordo,  clarit, 
burgundy,  burgong,  and  other  wines,  and  all  the  delipces  of  the 
Balong  kitchins.  We  stopped  a  fortnit  at  this  dull  place,  and 
did  nothing  from  morning  till  night  excep  walk  on  the  beach, 
and  watch  the  ships  going  in  and  out  of  arber,  with  one  of 
them  long,  sliding  opra-glasses,  which  they  call,  I  don't  know 
why,  tallow-scoops.  Our  amusements  for  the  fortnit  we  stopped 
here  were  boath  numerous  and  daliteful ;  nothink,  in  fact,  could 
be  more  pickong,  as  they  say.  In  the  morning  before  break- 
fast we  boath  walked  on  the  Peer;  master  in  a  blue  mareen 
jackit,  and  me  in  a  slap-up  new  livry  ;  both  provided  with  long 
sliding  opra-glasses,  called  as  I  said  (I  don't  know  Y,  but  I 
suppose  it's  a  scientafick  term)  fallow-scoops.  With  these  we 
igsamined,  very  attentively,  the  otion,  the  sea-weed,  the  peb- 
bles, the  dead  cats,  the  fishwimmin,  and  the  waives  (like  little 
children  playing  at  leap-frog),  Avhich  came  tumbling  over  i  an- 
other on  to  the  shoar.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  they  were  scram- 
bling to  get  there,  as  well  they  might,  being  sick  of  the  sea, 
and  anxious  for  the  blessid,  peaceable  terry Jirmy. 

After  brexfast,  down  we  went  again  (that  is,  master  on  liis 
beat,  and  me  on  mine, — for  my  place  in  this  foring  town  was  a 
complete  shinycnrc),  and  putting  our  tally-scoops  again  in  f)ur 
eyes,  we  egsamined  a  little  more  the  otion,  pebbils,  dead  cats, 
and  so  on  ;  and  this  lasted  till  dinner,  and  dinner  till  bed-time, 
and  bed-time  lasted  till  nex  day,  when  came  brexfast*  and  din- 
ner, and  tally-scooping,  as  before.  This  is  the  way  with  all 
people  of  this  town,  of  which,  as  I've  heard  say,  there  is  ten 
thousand  happy  English,  who  lead  this  jolesut  life  from  year's 
end  to  year's  end. 

Besides  this,  there's  billiards  and  gambling  for  the  gentle- 
men, a  little  dancing  for  the  gals,  and  scandle  for  the  dowy- 
gers.  In  none  of  these  amusements  did  we  partake.  We  were 
a  little  too  good  to  play  crown  pints  at  cards,  and  never  get 
paid  when  we  won  ;  or  to  go  dangling  after  the  portionless 
gals,  or  amuse  ourselves  with  slops  and  penny-wist  along  with 
the  old  ladies.  No,  no  ;  my  master  was  a  man  of  fortn  now,  and 
behaved  himself  as  sich.  If  ever  he  condysended  to  go  into 
the  public  room  of  the  Hotel  de  Bang — the  French  (doubtless 
for  reasons  best  known  to  themselves)  call  this  a  sallymanjy — ■ 
he  swoar  more  and  lowder  than  any  one  there  ;  he  abyoused 
the  waiters,  the  wittles,  the  wines.  With  his  glas  in  his  i,  he 
staired  at  everybody.  He  took  always  the  place  before  the 
fire.  He  talke<l  about  "  my  carridge,"  "my  currier,"  "my  ser- 
vant ; "  and  he  did  wright.     I've  always  found  through  life,  that 


442         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

if  you  wish  to  be  respected  by  English  people,  you  must  be  in. 
salent  to  them,  especially  if  you  are  a  sprig  of  nobiliaty.  We 
///'<?  being  insulted  by  noblemen, — it  shows  they're  familiar  with 
us.  Law  bless  us  !  I've  known  many  and  many  a  genlmn 
about  town  who'd  rather  be  kicked  by  a  lord  than  not  be  no- 
ticed by  him  ;  they've  even  had  an  aw  of  ine,  because  I  was  a 
lord's  footman.  While  my  master  was  hectoring  in  the  parlor, 
at  Balong,  pretious  airs  I  gave  myself  in  the  hitching,  I  can  tell 
you  ;  and  the  consequints  was,  that  we  were  better  served,  and 
moar  liked,  than  many  pipple  with  twice  our  merit. 

Deuceace  had  some  particklar  plans,  no  doubt,  which  kep 
him  so  long  at  Balong ;  and  it  clearly  was  his  wish  to  act  the 
man  of  fortune  there  for  a  little  time  before  he  tried  the  char- 
acter of  Paris.  He  purchased  a  carridge,  he  hired  a  currier, 
he  rigged  me  in  a  fine  new  liviy  blazin  with  lace,  and  he  past 
through  the  Balong  bank  a  thousand  pounds  of  the  money  he 
had  won  from  Dawkins,  to  his  credit  at  a  Paris  house  ;  showing 
the  Balong  bankers  at  the  same  time,  that  he'd  plenty  moar  in 
his  potfolie.  This  was  killin  two  birds  with  one  stone;  the 
bankers'  clerks  spread  the  nuse  over  the  town,  and  in  a  day 
after  master  had  paid  the  money  every  old  dowyger  in  Balong 
had  looked  out  the  Crabs'  family  podigree  in  the  Peeridge,  and 
was  quite  intimate  with  the  Deuceace  name  and  estates.  If 
Sattn  himself  were  a  lord,  I  do  beleave  there's  many  vurtuous 
English  "mothers  would  be  glad  to  have  him  for  a  son-in-law. 

Now,  though  my  master  had  thought  fitt  to  leave  town  with- 
out excommunicating  with  his  father  on  the  subject  of  his 
intended  continental  tripe,  as  soon  as  he  was  settled  at  Balong 
he  roat  my  Lord  Crabbs  a  letter,  of  which  I  happen  to  have  a 
copy,     ^t  ran  thus  : — 

Boulogne,  January  25. 
"  Mv  DEAR  Father, — I  have  long,  in  the  course  of  mv  legal  studies,  found  tlie  neces- 
sity of  a.  knowledge  <.f  French,  in  which  language  all  the  early  history  of  our  profession  is 
written,  and  have  determined  to  take  a  little  relaxation  from  chamber  reading-,  which  has 
serious'y  injured  my  Iiealth.  If  my  modest  finances  can  bear  a  two  months'  journey,  and 
a  residence  at  Paris,  1  propose  to  remain  there  that  period. 

'•  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  send  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Lord  Bobtail,  our 
ambassador?  My  name,  and  your  old  friendship  with  him,  I  know  would  secure  me  a  re- 
ception at  his  house  ;  but  a  pressing  letter  from  yourself  would  at  once  be  more  courteous, 
and  more  effectual. 

"May  I  also  ask  you  for  my  last  quarter's  salary?  lam  not  an  expensive  man,  my 
dear  fither,  as  you  know  ;  but  we  are  no  chameleons,  and  fifty  pounds  (with  my  litt'e  earn- 
ings in  my  profession')  would  vastly  add  to  the  agrcniejis  of  my  continental  excursion. 

"  Present  my  love  to  all  niy  brothers  and  sisters.  Ah!  how  I  wish  the  hard  portion  of 
a  younger  son  had  not  been  mine,  and  that  I  could  live  without  the  dire  necessity  for  labor, 
happy  among  the  rural  scenes  of  itiy  childhood,  and  in  the  society  of  my  dear  sisters  and 
you  !  Heaven  bless  you,  dearest  father,  and  all  those  beloved  ones  now  dwelling  undet 
the  dear  old  roof  at  Sizes. 

"  Ever  your  affectionate  son, 

"  Algernon. 

*  The  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  0/ Crabs,  &'c. 
"  Sizes  Cottrt,  Bucks." 


FORING  PARTS.  ^^^ 

To  this  affeckshnat  letter  his  lordship  replied,  by  return  of 
poast,  as  folios  : — 

"  My  DEAR  Algernon, — Your  letter  came  safe  to  hand,  and  I  enclose  you  tlie  letter 
for  Lord  Bobtail  as  you  desire.  He  is  a  kind  man,  and  has  one  of  the  best  cooks  in 
Europe. 

'■  We  were  all  charmed  with  your  warm  remembrance  of  us,  not  having  seen  you  fof 
seven  years.  We  cannot  but  be  pleased  at  the  family  affection  which,  in  spite  of  time  and 
absence,  still  clings  so  fondly  to  home.  It  is  a  sad,  selfish  world,  and  very  few  who  have 
entered  it  can  afford  to  keep  those  fresh  feelings  which  you  have.,  my  dear  son. 

"  May  you  long  retain  tliem,  is  a  fond  father's  earnest  prayer.  Be  sure,  dear  Algernon, 
that  they  will  be  through  life  your  greatest  comfort,  as  well  as  your  best  wordly  ally  ;  con- 
soling you  in  misfortune,  clieering  you  in  depression,  aiding  and  inspiring  you  to  exertior 
and  success. 

"  I  am  sorry,  truly  sorry,  that  my  account  at  toutts'  is  so  low,  just  now,  as  to  render  a 
paymentofyourallowar.ee  for  the  present  impossible.  I  see  by  my  book  that  I  (.we  you 
now  nine  quarters,  or  450/.  Depend  on  it,  my  dear  boy,  that  they  shall  be  faithfully  paid 
over  to  you  on  the  first  opportunity. 

"  I'jy  tlie  way,  I  have  cnc'osed  some  extracts  from  the  newspapers,  which  may  interest 
you  :  and  have  received  a  very  strange  letter  from  a  Mr.  Blewitt,  about  a  play  transaction, 
which,  I  suppose,  is  the  case  alluded  to  in  these  prints.  He  says  you  won  4700/.  from  one 
Dawkins:  that  the  lad  paid  it  ;  that  he,  Clewitt,  was  to  go  what  he  calls  '  snacks'  in  the 
winning  ;  but  that  you  refused  to  share  the  booty.  How  can  you,  my  dear  boy,  quarrel 
with  these  vulgar  peojile,  or  lay  yourself  m  any  way  open  to  their  attacks?  I  have  played 
myself  a  good  deal,  and  there  is  no  man  living  who  cm  accuse  me  of  a  doubtful  act.  You 
should  either  have  shot  this  Blewitt  or  paid  him.  Now,  as  the  matter  stands,  it  is  too  late 
to  do  the  former  ;  and,  perhaps,  it  would  be  Quixotic  to  perform  the  latter.  My  dearest 
boy  !  recollect  through  life  that_i'£7«  never  can  afford  to  be  dishonest  ■with  a  rogue.  Four 
thousand  seven  hundred  pounds  was  a  great  coup,  to  be  sure. 

"  As  you  are  nowin  sucli  liigh  feather,  can  you,  dearest  Algernon!  lend  me  five  hun- 
dred pounds  ?  Upon  my  soul  and  honor,  I  will  repay  you.  Your  brothers  and  sisters  send 
you  their  love.  I  need  not  add,  that  you  have  always  the  blessings  of  your  affectionate 
father, 

"  Crabs." 

"  P.  S. — Make  it  500,  and  I  will  give  you  my  note-of-hand  for  a  thousand." 
***** 

I  needn't  say  that  this  did  not  quite  enter  into  Deuceace's 
eyedears.  Lend  his  father  500  pound,  indeed  !  He'd  as  soon 
have  lent  him  a  box  on  the  year  !  In  the  fust  place,  he  hadn 
seen  old  Crabs  for  seven  years,  as  that  nobleman  remarked  in  his 
epistol  ;  in  the  secknd  he  hated  him,  and  they  hated  each  other  ; 
and  nex,  if  master  had  loved  his  father  ever  so  much,  he  loved 
somebody  else  better — his  father's  son,  namely :  and  sooner 
than  deprive  that  exlent  young  man  of  a  penny,  he'd  have  sean 
all  the  fathers  in  the  world  hangin  at  Newgat,  and  all  the 
"  beloved  ones,"  as  he  called  his  sisters,  the  Lady  Deuceacis- 
ses,  so  many  convix  at  Bottomy  Bay. 

The  newspaper  parrografs  showed  that,  however  secret  we 
wished  to  keep  the  play  transaction,  the  public  knew  it  now 
full  well.  Blewitt,  as  I  found  after,  was  the  author  of  the  libels 
which  appeared  right  and  left . 

''Gambling  in  High  I^ife  ; — iXvt  H 07wrable  ^s\x .  De — c — ce  again! — This  celebrated 
whist-player  has  turned  his  accomplishments  to  some  profit.  On  Friday,  th-e  i6th  January, 
he  won  five  thousand  pounds  from  a  very  young  gentleman,  Th — m — s  5m— th  D— wk--n's, 
Esq.,  and  lost  two  thousand  five  hundred  to  R!  B1— w— tt,  Esq.,  of  the  T— niple.  Mi.  D. 
very  honorably  paid  the  sum  lost  by  him  to  the  honorable  whist-player,  but  we  have  nof 
heard  that  be/ore  his  sudden  trip  to  Paris,  Mr.  D— uc— ce  paid  his  losings  to  Mr 
lil— w— tt,'' 


444         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSIT. 
Nex  came  a  "  Notice  to  Corryspondents  :  " 

'*  F'air  Play  asks  us,  if  we  know  of  the  gambling  doings  of  the  notorious  Deuceace  ?  W* 
answer,  We  do  ;  and,  in  our  vei-y  next  Number,  propose  to  make  some  of  them  public." 

***** 

They  didn't  appear,  however  ;  but,  on  the  contry,  the  very 
same  newspeper,  which  had  been  before  so  abusiff  of  Deuceace, 
was  now  loud  in  his  praise.     It  said : 

"  A  paragraph  was  inadvertently  admitted  into  our  paper  of  last  week,  most  unjustly 
assailing  the  character  of  a  gentleman  of  high  birth  and  talents,  the  son  of  the  exemplary 
E— rl  of  Cr — bs.  We  repel,  with  scorn  and  indignation,  the  dastardly  falsehoods  of  the 
malignant  slanderer  who  vilified  Mr.  De — cc— ce,  and  beg  to  offer  that  gentleman  the 
only  reparation  in  our  power  for  having  thus  tampered  with  his  unsullied  name.  We  dis- 
believe the  riiffia7i  and  his  story,  and  most  sincerely  regret  that  such  a  tale,  or  stich  a 
•wriier,  should  ever  have  been  brought  forward  to  the  readers  of  this  paper." 

This  was  satisfactory,  and  no  mistake  :  and  much  pleased 
we  were  at  the  denial  of  this  conshentious  editor.  So  much 
pleased  that  master  sent  him  a  ten-pound  noat,  and  his  com- 
plymints.  He'd  sent  another  to  the  same  address,  before  this 
parrowgraff  was  printed  ;  why,  I  can't  think  :  for  I  woodn't 
suppose  anything  musnary  in  a  littery  man. 

Well,  after  this  bisniss  was  concluded,  the  currier  hired,  the 
carridge  smartened  a  little,  and  me  set  up  in  my  new  livries,  we 
bade  ojew  to  Bulong  in  the  grandest  state  posbill.  What 
a  figure  we  cut !  and,  my  i,  what  a  figger  the  postilion  cut  !  A 
cock-hat,  a  jackit  made  out  of  a  cow's  skin  (it  was  in  cold 
weather),  a  pig-tale  about  3  fit  in  length,  and  a  pair  of  boots  I 
Oh,  sich  a  pare  !  A  bishop  might  almost  have  preached  out  of 
one,  or  a  modrat-sized  famly  slep  in  it.  Me  and  Mr  Schwig- 
shhnaps,  the  currier,  sate  behind  in  the  rumbill  ;  master  aloan 
in  the  inside,  as  grand  as  a  Turk,  and  rapt  up  in  his  fine 
fir-cloak.  Off  we  sett,  bowing  gracefly  to  the  crowd  ;  the 
harniss-bells  jinglin,  the  great  white  bosses  snortin,  kickin,  and 
squeelin,  and  the  postilium  cracking  his  whip,  as  loud  as  if  he  d 
been  drivin  her  majesty  the  quean. 

Well,  I  sha'n't  describe  our  voyitch.  We  passed  sefral 
sitties,  willitches,  and  metrappolishes ;  sleeping  the  fust  night 
at  Amiens,  which,  as  everyboddy  knows,  is  famous  ever  since 
the  year  1802  for  what's  called  the  Pease  of  Amiens.  We  had 
some,  very  good,  done  with  sugar  and  brown  sos,  in  the  Amiens 
way.  But  after  all  the  boasting  about  them,  1  think  I  like  our 
marrowphats  better. 

Speaking  of  wedgytables,  another  singler  axdent  happened 
here  concarning  them.     Master,  who  was  l>"rvijsti"g  before 


LORD   CRABS    BESTOWS   ON   THE   LADIES   HIS   PARTING   BENEDICTION. 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS. 


445 


goin^  away,  told  me  to  go  and  get  him  his  fur  travling-shoes. 
I  went  and  toald  the  waiter  of  the  inn,  who  stared,  grinned 
(as  these  chaps  always  do),  said  '^ Bong"  (which  means,  very 
well),  and  presently  came  back. 

Tm  blest  if  he  duMi  bring  master  a  plate  of  cabbitch  !  Would 
you  bleave  it,  that  now,  in  the  nineteenth  sentry,  when  they  say 
there's  schoolmasters  abroad,  these  stewpid  French  jackasses 
are  so  extonishingly  ignorant  as  to  call  a  cabbidge  a  shoo ! 
Never,  never  let  it  be  said,  after  this,  that  these  benighted, 
souperstitious,  misrabble  sat'idges,  are  equill,  in  any  respex,  to 
the  great  British  people.  The  moor  I  travvle,  the  moor  I  see 
of  the  world,  and  other  natiums,  I  am  proud  of  my  own,  and 
despise  and  deplore  the  retchid  ignorance  of  the  rest  of 
Yourup.  » 

***** 

My  remarks  on  "Parris  you  shall  have  by  an  early  oppor- 
tunity. Me  and  Deuceace  played  some  curious  pranx  there,  I 
can  tell  you. 


MR.   DEUCEACE   AT   PARIS. 

Chap.  I. — The  Two  Bundles  of  Hay. 

Lieutenant-General  Sir  George  Griffin,  K.C.B.,  was 
about  seventy-five  years  old  when  he  left  this  life,  and* the  East 
Ingine  army,  of  which  he  was  a  distinguished  ornyment.  Sir 
George's  first  appearance  in  Injar  was  in  the  character  of  a 
cabbingboy  to  a  vessel  ;  from  which  he  rose  to  be  clerk  to  the 
owners  at  Calcutta,  from  which  he  became  all  of  a  sudden  a 
capting  in  the  Company's  service  ;  and  so  rose  and  rose,  until 
he  rose  to  be  a  leftenanl-general,  when  he  stopped  rising  alto- 
gether— hopping  the  twig  of  this  life,  as  drummers,  generals, 
dustmen,  and  emperors  must  do. 

Sir  George  did  not  leave  any  mal  hair  to  perpetuate  the 
name  of  Griffin.  A  widow  of  about  twenty-seven,  and  a 
daughter  avaritching  twenty-three,  was  left  behind  to  deploar 
his  loss,  and  share  his  proppaty.  On  old  Sir  George's  deth, 
his  interesting  widdo  and  orfan,  who  had  both  been  with  him  in 
Injcr,  returned  home — tried  London  for  a  few  months   did  not 


446         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

like  it,  and  resolved  on  a  trip  to  Paris  ;  where  very  small  Lon^ 
don  people  become  very  great  ones,  if  they've  money,  as  these 
Griffinses  had.  The  intelligent  reader  need  not  be  told  that 
Miss  Griffin  was  not  the  daughter  of  Lady  Griffin ;  for  though 
marritches  are  made  tolrabbly  early  in  Injer,  people  are  not 
quite  so  precoashoos  as  all  that :  the  fact  is,  Lady  G,  was  Sir 
Geprge's  second  wife.  I  need  scarcely  add,  that  Miss  Matilda 
Griffin  wos  the  offspring  of  his  fust  marritch. 

Miss  Leonora  Kicksey,  a  ansum,  lively  Islington  gal,  taken 
out  to  Galcutta,  and,  amongst  his  other  goods,  very  comfortably 
disposed  of  by  her  uncle.  Captain  Kicksey,  was  one-and-twenty 
when  she  married  Sir  George  at  seventy-one;  and  the  13  Miss 
Kickseys,  nine  of  whom  kep  a  school  at  Islington  (the  other  4 
being  married  variously  in  the  city),  were  not'a  little  envius  of 
my  lady's  luck,  and  not  a  little  proud  of  their  relationship  to 
her.  One  of  'em.  Miss  Jemima  Kicksey,  the  oldest,  and  by  no 
means  the  least  ugly  of  the  sett,  was  staying  with  her  ladyship, 
and  gev  me  all  the  partecklars.  Of  the  rest  of  the  famly,  being 
of  a  lo  sort,  I  in  course  no  nothink ;  my  acquaintance,  thank 
my  stars,  don't  lie  among  them,  or  the  likes  of  them. 

Well,  this  Miss  Jemima  lived  with  her  younger  and  more 
fortnat  sister,  in  the  qualaty  of  companion,  or  toddy.  Poar 
thing !  I'd  a  soon  be  a  gaily  slave,  as  lead  the  life  she  did  ! 
Everybody  in  the  house  despised  her;  her  ladyship  insulted 
her  ;  the  very  kitchen  gals  scorned  and  flouted  her.  She  roat 
the  notes,  she  kep  the  bills,  she  made  the  tea,  she  whipped  the 
chocklate,  she  cleaned  the  canary  birds,  and  gev  out  the  linning 
for  tlie  wash.  She  was  my  lady's  walking  pocket,  or  rettycule  ; 
and  fetched  and  carried  her  handkercher,  or  her  smell-bottle, 
like  a  well-bred  spaniel.  All  night,  at  her  ladyship's  swarries, 
she  thumped  kid  rills  (nobody  ever  thought  of  asking  /ler  to 
dance  !)  ;  when  Miss  Griffing  sung,  she  played  the  piano,  and 
was  scolded  because  the  singer  was  out  of  tune;  abommanating 
dogs,  she  never  drove  out  without  her  ladyship's  puddle  in  her 
lap;  and,  reglarly  unwell  in  a  carriage,  she  never  got  anything 
but  the  back  seat.  Poar  Jemima  !  I  can  see  her  now  in  my 
lady's  seknd-best  old  clothes  (the  ladies'-maids  always  got  the 
prime  leavings) :  a  liloc  sattn  gown,  crumpled,  blotched,  and 
greasy  :  a  pair  of  white  sattn  shoes,  of  the  color  of  Inger 
rubber  ;  a  faded  yellow  velvet  hat,  with  a  Avreath  of  hartifishl 
flowers  run  to  seed,  and  a  bird  of  Parrowdice  perched  on  the 
top  of  it,  melumcolly  and  moulting,  with  only  a  couple  of 
feathers  left  in  his  unfortunate  tail. 

Besides   this    ornyment    to    their   saloon,   Lady  and    Miss 


I 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PAH  IS. 


447 


Grffin  kept  a  number  of  other  servants  in  the  kitchen  ;  2  ladies'- 
maids  ;  2  footmin,  six  feet  high  each,  crimson  coats,  goold 
knots,  and  white  cassymear  pantyloons  ;  a  coachmin  to  match  ; 
a  page :  and  a  Shassure,  a  kind  of  servant  only  known  among 
forriners,  and  who  looks  more  like  a  major-general  than  any 
other  mortial,  wearing  a  cock-hat,  a  unicorn  covered  with  silver 
lace,  mustashos,  eplets,  and  a  sword  by  his  side.  All  these  to 
wait  upon  two  ladies  ;  not  counting  a  host  of  the  fair  sex,  such 
as  cooks,  scullion,  housekeepers,  and  so  forth. 

My  Lady  Griffin's  lodging  was  at  forty  pound  a  week,  in  a 
grand  sweet  of  rooms  in  the  Plas  Vandome  at  Paris.  And, 
having  thus  described  their  house,  and  their  servants'  hall,  I 
may  give  a  few  words  of  description  concerning  the  ladies 
themselves. 

In  the  fust  place,  and  in  coarse,  they  hated  each  other.  My 
lady  was  twenty-seven — a  widdo  of  two  years — fat,  fair,  and 
rosy,  A  slow,  quiet,  cold-looking  woman,  as  those  fair-haired 
gals  generally  are,  it  seemed  difficult  to  rouse  her  either  into 
likes  or  dislikes;  to  the  former,  at  least.  She  never  loved  any- 
body but  one,  and  that  was  herself.  She  hated,  in  her  calm, 
quiet  way,  almost  every  one  else  who  came  near  her — every 
one,  from  her  neighbor  the  duke,  who  had  slighted  her  at  din- 
ner, down  to  John  the  footman,  who  had  torn  a  hole  in  her 
train.  I  think  this  woman's  heart  was  like  one  of  them  litho- 
graffic  stones,  you  can't  rub  out  anything  when  once  it's  drawn 
or  wrote  on  it ;  nor  could  you  out  of  her  ladyship's  stone — • 
heart,  I  mean — in  the  shape  of  an  affront,  a  slight,  or  real  or 
phansied  injury.  She  boar  an  exlent,  irreprotchable  character, 
against  which  the  tongue  of  scandal  never  wagged.  She  was 
allowed  to  be  the  best  wife  posbill — and  so  she  was  ;  but  she 
killed  her  old  husband  in  two  years,  as  dead  as  ever  Mr. 
'I'hurtell  killed  Mr,  William  Weare,  She  never  got  into  a 
passion,  not  she — she  never  said  a  rude  word  ;  but  she'd  a 
genius — a  genius  which  many  women  have — of  making  a  hell  of 
a  house,  and  tort'ring  the  poor  creatures  of  her  family,  until 
they  were  wellnigh  drove  mad. 

Miss  Matilda  Griffin  was  a  good  deal  uglier,  and  about  as 
amiable  as  her  mother-in-law.  She  was  crooked,  and  squinted; 
my  lady,  to  do  her  justice,  was  straight,  and  looked  the  same 
way  with  her  i's.  She  was  dark,  and  my  lady  was  fair — senti- 
mental, as  her  ladyship  was  cold.  My  lady  was  never  in  a 
pn!^sion — Miss  Matilda  always  :  and  awfille  were  the  scenes 
which  used  to  ]:)nss  between  these  women,  and  the  wickid, 
'vvickid  quarls  which  took  place.     Why  (X\C\.  they  live  together  ? 


448         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C  J.   YELLOIVPLUSH. 

There  was  the  mistry.  Not  related,  and  hating  each  other  like 
pison,  it  would  surely  have  been  easier  to  remain  seprat,  and 
so  have  detested  each  other  at  a  distans. 

As  for  the  fortune  which  old  Sir  George  had  left,  that,  it 
was  clear,  was  very  considrabble — 300  thousand  lb.  at  the  least, 
as  I  have  heard  say.  But  nobody  knew  how  it  was  disposed  of. 
Some  said  that  her  ladyship  was  sole  mistriss  of  it,  others  that  it 
was  divided,  others  that  she  had  only  a  life  inkum,  and  that  the 
money  was  all  to  go  (as  was  natral)  to  Miss  Matilda.  These 
are  subjix  which  are  not  praps  very  interesting  to  the  British 
public,  but  were  mighty  important  to  my  roaster,  the  Honrable 
Algernon  Percy  Deuceace,  esquire,  barrister-at-law,  etsettler, 
etsettler. 

For  I've  forgot  to  inform  you  that  my  master  was  very  in- 
timat  in  this  house  ;  and  that  we  were  now  comfortably  settled 
at  the  Hotel  Mirabew  (pronounced  Marobo  in  French),  in  the 
Rew  delly  Pay,  at  Paris.  We  had  our  cab,  and  two  riding- 
horses  ;  our  banker's  book,  and  a  thousand  pound  for  a  balantz 
at  Lafitt's  ;  our  club  at  the  corner  of  the  Rew  Gramong  ;  our 
share  in  a  box  at  the  oppras  ;  our  apartments,  spacious  and 
elygant  ;  our  swarries  at  court;  our  dinners  at  his  excellency 
Lord  Bobtail's  and  elsewhere.  Thanks  to  poar  Dawkins's  five 
thousand  pound,  we  were  as  complete  gentlemen  as  any  in 
Paris. 

Now  my  master,  like  a  wise  man  as  he  was,  seaing  himself 
at  the  head  of  a  smart  sum  of  money,  and  in  a  country  where 
his  debts  could  not  bother  him,  determined  to  give  up  for  the 
present  everythink  like  gambling — at  least,  high  play ;  as  for 
losing  or  winning  a  ralow  of  Napoleums  at  whist  or  ecarty,  it 
did  not  matter:  it  looks  like  money  to  do  such  things,  and 
gives  a  kind  of  respectabilaty.  "  But  as  for  play,  he  wouldn't 
— oh  no  !  not  for  worlds  ! — do  such  a  thing."  He  fiad  played, 
like  other  young  men  of  fashn,  and  won  and  lost  [old  fox  !  he 
didn't  say  he  had  paid']  ;  but  he  had  given  up  the  amusement, 
and  was  now  determined,  he  said,  to  live  on  his  inkum.  The 
fact  is,  my  master  was  doing  his  very  best  to  act  the  re- 
spectable man  :  and  a  very  good  game  it  is,  too  ;  but  it  requires 
a  precious  great  roag  to  play  it. 

He  made  his  appearans  reglar  at  church — me  carrying  a 
liandsome  large  black  marocky  Prayer-book  and  Bible,  with  the 
psalms  and  lessons  marked  out  with  red  ribbings  ;  and  you'd 
have  thought,  as  I  graivly  laid  the  volloms  down  before  him,  and 
as  he  berried  his  head  in  his  nicely  brushed  hat,  before  ser- 
vice began,  that   such   a  pious,   proper,  morl,  young  noblcinail 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARTS. 


449 


was  not  to  be  found  in  the  whole  of  the  peeridge.  It  was  a 
comfort  to  look  at  him.  Efry  old  tabby  and  dowyger  at  my 
Lord  Bobtail's  turned  up  the  wights  of  their  i's  when  they  spoke 
of  him,  and  vowed  they  had  never  seen  such  a  dear,  daliteful, 
exlent  young  man.  What  a  good  son  he  must  be,  they  said  ; 
and  oh,  what  a  good  son-in-law!  He  had  the  pick  of  all  the 
English  gals  at  Paris  before  we  had  been  there  3  months.  But, 
unfortunately,  most  of  them  were  poar  •  and  love  and  a  cottidge 
was  not  quite  in  master's  way  of  thinking. 

Well,  about  this  time  my  Lady  Griffin  and  Miss  G.  made 
their  appearants  at  Parris,  and  master,  who  was  up  to  snough, 
very  soon  changed  his  noat.  He  sate  near  them  at  chappie, 
and  sung  hims  with  my  lady :  he  danced  with  'em  at  the  em- 
bassy balls  ;  he  road  with  them  in  the  Boy  de  Balong  and  the 
Shandeleasies  (which  is  the  French  High  Park)  ;  he  roat  potry 
in  Miss  Griffin's  halbim,  and  sang  jewets  along  with  her  and 
Lady  Griffin  ;  he  brought  sweat  meats  for  the  puddle-dog  ;  he 
gave  money  to  the  footmin,  kisses  and  gloves  to  the  sniggering 
ladies'-maids  ;  he  was  sivvle  even  to  poar  Miss  Kicksey  ;  there 
wasn't  a  single  soal  at  the  Griffinses  that  didn't  adoar  this  good 
young  man. 

The  ladies,  if  they  hated  befoar,  you  may  be  sure  detested  each 
other  now  wuss  than  ever.  There  had  been  always  a  jallowsy  be- 
tween them  :  miss  jellows  of  her  mother-in-law's  bewty  ;  madam 
of  miss's  espree  :  miss  taunting  my  lady  about  the  school  at 
Islington,  and  my  lady  snearing  at  miss  for  her  squint  and  her 
crookid  back.  And  now  came  a  stronger  caws.  They  both 
fell  in  love  with  Mr.  Deuceace — my  lady,  that  is  to  say,  as 
much  as  she  could,  with  her  cold  selfish  temper.  She  liked 
Deuceace,  who  amused  her  and  made  her  laff.  She  liked  his 
manners,  his  riding,  and  his  good  loox  ;  and  being  ■\  pervinew 
herself  had  a  dubble  respect  for  real  aristocratick  flesh  and 
blood.  Miss's  love,  on  the  contry,  was  all  flams  and  fury. 
She'd  always  been  at  this  work  from  the  time  she  had  been  at 
school,  where  she  very  nigh  run  away  with  a  Frentch  master ; 
next  with  a  footman  (which  I  may  say,  in  confidence,  is  by  no 
means  unnatral  or  unusyouall,  as  I  could  show  if  I  liked)  ;  and 
so  had  been  going  on  sins  fifteen.  She  reglarly  flung  herself 
at  Deuceace's  head — such  sighing,  crying,  and  ogling,  I  never 
see.  Often  was  I  ready  to  bust  out  laffin,  as  I  brought  master 
skoars  of  rose-colored  billydoos,  folded  up  like  cock-hats,  and 
smellin  like  barber's  shops,  which  this  very  tender  young  lady 
used  to  address  to  him.  Now,  though  master  was  a  scoundrill 
and  no  mistake,  he  was  a  gentlemin,  and  a  man  of  good  bread- 


450         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH 

ing  ;  and  miss  ca77ie  a  little  too  strong  (pardon  the  wulgarity  of 
the  xpression)  with  her  harder  and  attachmint,  for  one  of  his 
taste.  Besides,  she  had  a  crookid  spine,  and  a  squint ;  so  that 
(supposing  their  fortns  tolrabbly  equal)  Deuceace  reely  pre- 
ferred the  mother-in-law. 

Now,  then,  it  was  his  bisniss  to  find  out  which  had  the  most 
money.  With  an  English  famly  this  would  have  been  easy :  a 
look  at  a  will  at  Doctor  Commons'es  would  settle  the  matter 
at  once.  But  this  India  naybob's  will  was  at  Calcutty,  or  some 
outlandish  place  ;  and  there  was  no  getting  sight  of  a  coppy  of 
it.  I  will  do  Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace  the  justass  to  say,  that 
he  was  so  little  musnary  in  his  love  for  Lady  Grififin,  that  he 
would  have  married  her  gladly,  even  if  she  had  ten  thousand 
pounds  less  than  Miss  Matilda.  In  the  meantime,  his  plan  was 
to  keep  'em  both  in  play,  until  he  could  strike  the  best  fish  of 
the  two — not  a  difficult  matter  for  a  man  of  his  genus  :  besides, 
Miss  was  hooked  for  certain. 


Chap.   II. — "  Honor  thy  Father." 

I  SAID  that  my  master  was  adoared  by  every  person  in  my 
Lady  Griffin's  establishmint.  I  should  have  said  by  every 
person  excep  one, — a  young  French genlmn,  that  is,  who,  before 
our  appearants,  had  been  mighty  partiklar  with  my  lady,  ocku- 
pying  by  her  side  exackly  the  same  pasition  which  the  Flonrable 
Mr.  Deuceace  now  held.  It  was  bewtiffle  and  headifying  to 
see  how  coolly  that  young  nobleman  kicked  the  poar  Shevalliay 
de  L'Orge  out  of  his  shoes,  and  how  gracefully  he  himself  stept 
into  'em.  Munseer  de  L'Orge  was  a  smart  young  French 
jentleman,  of  about  my  master's  age  and  good  looks,  but  not 
possest  of  half  my  master's  impidince.  Not  that  that  quallaty 
is  uncommon  in  France  ;  but  few,  very  few,  had  it  to  such  a 
degree  as  my  exlent  employer,  Mr.  Deuceace.  Besides  De 
L'Orge  was  reglarly  and  reely  in  love  with  Lady  Griffin,  and 
master  only  pretending  :  he  had,  of  coars,  an  advantitch,  which 
the  poor  Frentchman  never  could  git.  He  was  all  smiles  and 
gaty,  while  Delorge  was  ockward  and  melumcolly.  My  mas- 
ter had  said  twenty  pretty  things  to  Lady  Gvifiin,  befor  the 
shevalier  had  finished  smoothing  his  hat,  staring  at  her,  and 
sighing  fit  to  bust  his  weskit.  O  luv,  luv  !  T/iis  isn't  the  way 
to  win  a  woman,  or  my  name's  not  Fitzroy  Yellowplush  !  My 
self,  when  I  begun  my  carear  among  the  fair  six,  I  was  always 


MR.  DE UCEA CE  AT  PA RIS.  4 r x 

sighing  and  moping,  like  this  poar  Frenchman.  What  was  the 
consquints  ?  The  foar  fust  women  I  adoared  lafft  at  me,  and 
left  me  for  something  more  Uvely.  Witli  the  rest  I  haveedopt- 
ed  a  different  game,  and  with  tolerable  suxess,  I  can  tell  you 
But  this  is  eggatism,  which  I  aboar. 

Well,  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,  that  Munseer  Ferdi- 
nand Hyppolite  Xavier  Stanislas,  Shevalier  de  L'Orge,  way 
reglar  cut  out  by  Munseer  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace,  Exquire. 
Poar  Ferdinand  did  not  leave  the  house — he  hadn't  the  heart 
to  do  that — nor  had  my  lady  the  desire  to  dismiss  him.  He 
was  usefle  in  a  thousand  different  ways,  getting  oppra-boxes, 
and  invitations  to  French  swarr'es,  bying  gloves,  and  O  de 
Colong,  writing  French  noats,  and  such  like.  Always  let  me 
recommend  an  English  famly,  going  to  Paris,  to  have  at  least 
one  young  man  of  the  sort  about  them.  Never  mind  how  old 
your  ladyship  is,  he  will  make  love  to  you  ;  never  mind  whaL 
errints  you  send  him  upon,  he'll  trot  off  and  do  them.  Besides, 
he's  always  quite  and  well-dresst,  and  never  drinx  moar  ihan 
a  pint  of  wine  at  dinner,  which  (as  I  say)  is  a  pint  to  consider. 
Such  a  conveniants  of  a  man  was  Munseer  de  L'Orge — the 
greatest  use  and  comfort  to  my  lady,  posbill  ;  if  it  was  but  to 
lafif  at  his  bad  pronunciatium  of  English,  it  was  somethink 
amusink;  the  fun  was  to  pit  him  against  poar  Miss  Kicksey, 
she  speakin  French,  and  he  our  naytif  British  tong. 

My  master,  to  do  him  justace,  was  perfickly  sivvle  to  this 
poar  young  Frenchman  j  and  having  kicked  him  out  of  the  place 
which  he  occupied,  sertingly  treated  his  fallen  anymy  with 
every  respect  and  consideration.  Poor  modist  down-hearted 
little  Ferdinand  adoared  my  lady  as  a  goddice  !  and  so  he  was 
very  polite,  likewise,  to  my  master — never  venturing  once  to  be 
jellows  of  him,  or  to  question  my  Lady  Griffin's  right  to  change 
her  lover,  if  she  choase  to  do  so. 

Thus,  then,  matters  stood  ;  master  had  two  strinx  to  his  bo, 
and  might  take  either  the  widdo  or  the  orfn,  as  he  preferred : 
corn  bonghucc  somblay,  as  the  Frentch  say.  His  only  pint  was 
to  discover  how  the  money  was  disposed  off,  which  evidently  be- 
longed to  one  or  other,  or  boath.  At  any  rate  he  was  sure  of 
one  ;  as  sure  as  any  mortal  man  can  be  ui  this  sublimary  spear, 
where  nothink  is  suttin  except  unsertnty. 

*  *  *  *  # 

A  very  unixpected  insident  here  took  place,  which  in  a 
good  deal  changed  my  master's  calkylations. 

One  night,  after  conducting  the  two  ladies  to  the  oppra, 
after  suppink  of  white  soop,  sammy-deperdrow,  and  shampang 


452         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

glassy  (which  means,  eyced),  at  their  house  in  the  Plas 
Vandom,  me  and  master  droav  hoam  in  the  cab,  as  happy  as 
possbill. 

"  Chawls  youd — d  scoundrel,"  says  he  to  me  (for  he  was  in 
an  exlent  humer),  "when  I'm  married,  I'll  dubbil  your  wagis." 

This  he  might  do,  to  be  sure,  without  injaring  himself,  seing 
that  he  had  as  yet  never  paid  me  any.  But,  what  then  ?  Law 
bless  us  ?  things  would  be  at  a  pretty  pass  if  we  suvvants  only 
lived  on  our  wagis  ;  our  puckwisits  is  the  thing,  and  no  mistake. 

I  ixprest  my  gratitude  as  best  I  could  \  swoar  that  it  wasn't 
for  wagis  I  served  him — that  I  would  as  leaf  weight  upon  him 
for  nothink  ;  and  that  never,  never,  so  long  as  I  livd,  would  I, 
of  my  own  accord,  part  from  such  an  exlent  master.  By  the 
time  these  two  spitches  had  been  made — my  spitch  and  his 
— we  arrived  at  the  "  Hotel  Mirabeu  ;  "  which,  as  everybody 
knows,  ain't  very  distant  from  the  Plas  Vandome.  Up  we 
marched  to  our  apartmince,  me  carrying  the  light  and  the  cloax, 
master  hummink  a  hair  out  of  the  oppra,  as  merry  as  a  lark. 

I  opened  the  door  of  our  salong.  There  was  lights  already 
in  the  room  ;  an  empty  shampang  bottle  roalin  on  the  floor,  an- 
other on  the  table  ;  near  which  the  sofy  was  drawn,  and  on  it 
lay  a  stout  old  genlmn,  smoaking  seagars  as  if  he'd  bean  in 
an  inn  tap-room. 

Deuceace  (who  abommanates  seagars,  as  I've  already  shown) 
bust  into  a  furious  raige  against  the  genlmn,  whom  he  could 
hardly  see  for  the  smoak  ;  and,  with  a  number  of  oaves  quite 
unnecessary  to  repeat,  asked  him  what  bisniss  he'd  there. 

The  smoaking  chap  rose,  and,  laying  down  his  segar,  began 
a  ror  of  lafhn,  and  said,  "  What !  Algy  my  boy !  don't  you  know 
me!" 

The  reader  may  praps  reklect  a  very  affecting  letter  which 
was  published  in  the  last  chapter  of  these  memoars  ;  in  which 
the  writer  requested  a  loan  of  five  hundred  pound  from  Mr. 
Algernon  Deuceace,  and  which  boar  the  respected  signatur  of 
the  Earl  of  Crabs,  Mr.  Deuceace's  own  father.  It  was  that  dis- 
tinguished arastycrat  who  was  now  smokin  and  lafhn  in  our 
room. 

My  Lord  Crabs  was,  as  I  preshumed,  about  60  years  old. 
A  stowt,  burly,  red-faced,  bald-headed  nobleman,  whose  nose 
seemed  blushing  at  what  his  mouth  was  continually  swallowing; 
whose  hand,  praps,  trembled  a  little ;  and  whose  thy  and  legg 
was  not  quite  so  full  or  as  steddy  as  they  had  been  in  former  days 
But  he  was  a  respecktabble,  fine-looking,  old  nobleman  ;  and 
though  it  must  be  confest  j^  drunk  when  we  fust  made  our 


i 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS. 


453 


appearance  in  the  salong,  yet  by  no  means  moor  so  than  a  reel 
noblemia  ought  to  be. 

"What,  Algy  my  boy  !  "  shouts  out  his  lordship,  advancing 
and  seasing  master  by  the  Iiand,  "  doan't  you  know  your  own 
father?" 

Master  seemed  anythinlc  but  overhappy.  "  My  lord,"  says 
he,  looking  very  pale,  and  speakin  rayther  slow,  "  I  didn't — 1 
confess — the  unexpected  pleasure — of  seeing  you  in  Paris. 
The  fact  is,  sir,"  said  he,  recovering  himself  a  little  ;  "  the  fact 
is,  there  was  such  a  confounded  smoke  of  tobacco  in  the  room, 
that  I  really  could  not  see  who  the  stranger  was  who  had  paid 
me  such  an  unexpected  visit."  • 

"A  bad  habit^  Algernon  ;  a  bad  habit,"  said  my  lord,  light- 
ing another  seagar  :  "  a  disgusting  and  filthy  practice,  which 
you,  my  dear  child,  will  do  well  to  avoid.  It  is  at  best,  dear 
Algernon,  but  a  nasty,  idle  pastime,  unfitting  a  man  as  well  for 
mental  exertion  as  for  respectable  society ;  sacrificing,  at  once, 
the  vigor  of  the  intellect  and  the  graces  of  the  person.  By  the  bye, 
what  infernal  bad  tobacco  they  have,  too,  in  this  hotel.  Could 
not  you  send  your  servant  to  get  me  a  few.  seagars  at  the  Cafe 
de  Paris  ?  Give  him  a  five-franc  piece,  and  let  him  go  at  once, 
that's  a  good  fellow." 

Here  his  lordship  hiccupt,  and  drank  off  a  fresh  tumbler  of 
shampang.  Very  sulkily,  master  drew  out  the  coin,  and  sent 
me  on  the  errint. 

Knowing  the  Cafe'  de  Paris  to  be  shut  at  that  hour,  I  didn't 
say  a  word,  but  quietly  establisht  myself  in  the  ante-room ; 
where,  as  it  happened  by  a  singler  coinstdints,  I  could  hear 
eveiy  word,  of  the  conversation  between  this  exlent  pair  of  re- 
latifs. 

"  Help  yourself,  and  get  another  bottle,"  says  my  lord,  after 
a  solium  paws.  My  poor  master,  the  king  of  all  other  conipnies 
in  which  he  moved,  seemed  here  but  to  play  secknd  fiddill, 
and  went  to  the  cubbard,  from  which  his  father  had  already 
igstracted  two  bottils  of  his  prime  Sillary. 

He  put  it  down  before  his  father,  coft,  spit,  opened  the  win- 
dows, stirred  the  fire,  yawned,  clapt  his  hand  to  his  forehead, 
and  suttnly  seamed  as  uneezy  as  a  genlmn  could  be.  But  it 
was  of  no  use  ;  the  old  one  would  not  budg.  "  Help  yourself," 
says  he  again,  "and  pass  me  the  bottil." 

"You  are  very  good,  father,"  says  master;  "but  really,  I 
neither  drink  nor  smoke." 

"  Right,  my  boy  :  quite  right.  Talk  about  a  good  conscience 
in  this  life — a  good  stomack  is  everythink.     No  bad  nights,  no 


454         ^-^^-^  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

headachs — eh  ?  Quite  cool  and  collected  for  your  law  studies 
in  the  morning  ? — eh  ?  "  And  the  old  nobleman  here  grinned, 
in  a  manner  which  wouid  have  done  creddit  to  Mr,  Grimoldi. 

Master  sat  pale  and  wincing,  as  I've  seen  a  pore  soldier 
under  the  cat.  He  didn't  anser  a  word.  His  exlant  pa  went 
on,  warming  as  he  continued  to  speak,  and  drinking  a  fresh 
glas  at  evry  full  stop. 

"  How  you  must  improve,  with  such  talents  and  such  prin- 
ciples !  Why,  Algernon,  all  London  talks  of  your  industry  and 
perseverance  :  you're  not  merely  a  philosopher,  man  ;  hang  it ! 
you've  got  the  philosopher's  stone.  Fine  rooms,  fine  horses, 
champagne,  and  all  for  200  a  year  !  " 

"  I  presume,  sir,"  says  my  master,  "  that  you  mean  the  two 
hundred  a  year  which  you  pay  me  }  " 

"  The  very  sum,  my  boy ;  the  very  sum !  "  cries  my  lord, 
laffin  as  if  he  would  die.  "  Why,  that's  the  wonder  !  I  never 
pay  the  two  hundred  a  year,  and  you  keep  all  this  state  up  up- 
on nothing.  Give  me  your  secret,  O  you  young  Trismegistus  ! 
Tell  your  old  father  how  such  wonders  can  be  worked,  and  I 
will — yes,  then,  upon,  my  word,  I  will — pay  yoii  your  two  hun- 
dred a  year ! " 

"  Enfiji,  my  lord,"  says  Mr.  Deuceace,  starting  up,  and 
losing  all  patience,  "  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  tell  me  what 
this  visit  means  ?  You  leave  me  to  starve,  for  all  you  care  ; 
and  you  grow  mighty  facetious  because  I  earn  my  bread.  You 
find  me  in  prosperity,  and " 

"  Precisely,  my  boy ;  precisely.  Keep  your  temper,  and 
pass  that  bottle.  I  find  you  in  prosperity  ;  and  a  young  gentle- 
man of  your  genius  and  acquirements  asks  me  why  I  seek  your 
society  ?  Oh,  Algernon  !  Algernon  !  this  is  not  worthy  of  such 
a  profound  philosopher.  Why  do  I  seek  you  ?  Why,  because 
you  are  in  prosperity,  O  my  son !  else,  why  the  devil  should  I 
bother  myself  about  you  ?  Did  I,  your  poor  mother,  or  your 
family,  ever  get  from  you  a  single  affectionate  feeling  ?  Did  we, 
or  any  other  of  your  friends  or  intimates,  ever  know  you  to  be 
guilty  of  a  single  honest  or  generous  action  1  Did  we  ever  pre- 
tend'any  love  for  you,  or  you  for  us  ?  Algernon  Deuceace,  you 
don't  want  a  father  to  tell  you  that  you  are  a  swindler  and  a 
spendthrift !  I  have  paid  thousands  for  the  debts  of  yourself 
and  your  brothers  ;  and,  if  you  pay  nobody  else,  I  am  deter- 
mined you  shall  repay  me.  You  would  not  do  it  by  fair  means, 
when  I  wrote  to  you  and  asked  you  for  a  loan  of  money.  I 
knew  you  would  not.  Had  I  written  again  to  warn  you  of  my 
coming,  vqj  would   have  given  me   the   slip  .   and  so  I  came, 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS. 


455 


uninvited,  io  force  you  to  repay  me.  Thafs  why  I  am  here,  Mr. 
Algernon  ;  and  so  help  yourself  and  pass  the  bottle." 

After  this  speach,  the  old  genlmn  sunk  down  on  the  sofa, 
and  pufied  as  much  smoke  out  of  his  mouth  as  if  he'd  been  the 
chimley  of  a  steam-injian.  I  was  pleased,  1  confess,  with  the 
sean,  and  liked  to  see  this  venrabble  and  virtuous  old  man  a- 
nockinghis  son  about  the  hed  ;  just  as  Deuceace  had  done  with 
Mr.  Richard  Blewitt,  as  I've  before  shown.  Master's  face  was, 
fust,  red  hot ;  next,  chawk-white ;  and  then,  sky-blew.  He 
looked,  for  all  the  world,  like  Mr.  Tippy  Cooke  in  the  tragady 
of  Frankinstang.     At  last,  he  mannidged  to  speak. 

"  My  lord,"  says  he,  "  I  expected  when  I  saw  you  that  some 
such  scheme  was  on  foot.  Swindler  and  spendthrift  as  I  am,  at 
least  it  is  but  a  family  failing  ;  and  I  am  indebted  for  my  virtues 
to  my  father's  precious  example.  Your  lordship  has,  I  perceive, 
added  drunkenness  to  the  list  of  your  accomplishments  ;  and  I 
sujopose,  under  the  influence  of  that  gentlemanly  excitement,  has 
come  to  make  these  preposterous  propositions  to  me.  When 
you  are  sober,  you  will,  perhaps,  be  wise  enough  to  know,  that, 
fool  as  I  may  be,  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  you  think  me  ;  and 
that  if  I  have  got  money,  I  intend  to  keep  it — every  farthing  of 
it,  though  you  were  to  be  ten  times  as  drunk,  and  ten  times  as 
threatening  as  you  are  now." 

"Well,  well,  my  boy,"  said  Lord  Crabs,  who  seemed  to  have 
been  half-asleep  during  his  son's  oratium,  and  recti. ed  all  his 
sneers  and  surcasms  with  the  most  complete  good-humor ; 
"  well,  well,  if  you  will  resist,  taut  pis  pour  toi.  I've  no  desire  to 
ruin  you,  recollect,  and  am  not  in  the  slightest  degree  angry  ; 
but  I  must  and  will  have  a  thousand  pounds.  You  had  better 
give  me  the  money  at  once  ;  it  will  cost  you  more  if  you  don't." 

"  Sir,"  says  Mr.  Deuceace,  "  I  will  be  equally  candid.  I 
would  not  give  you  a  farthing  to  save  you  from " 

Here  I  thought  proper  to  open  the  doar,  and,  touching  my 
hat,  said,  "  I  have  been  to  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  my  lord,  but  the 
house  is  shut." 

"  Bon :  there's  a  good  lad  ;  you  may  keep  the  live  francs. 
And  now,  get  me  a  candle  and  show  me  down  stairs.  ' 

But  my  master  seized  the  wax  taper.  "  Pardon  me,  my  lord," 
says  he.  "  What !  a  servant  do  it,  when  your  son  is  in  the  room  ? 
Ah, par  excmple,  my  dear  father,"  said  he,  laughing,  "you  think 
there  is  no  politeness  left  among  us."  And  he  led  the  way 
out. 

"Good-night,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Lord  Crabs 


456         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

"God  bless  you,  sir,"  says  he.     "Are  you  wrapped  warm  f 
Mind  the  step  !  " 

And  so  this  affeckshnate  pair  parted. 


Chap,  III. — Minewvring. 

Master  rose  the  nex  morning  with  a  dismal  countinants — 
he  seamed  to  think  that  his  pa's  visit  boded  him  no  good.  I 
heard  him  muttering  at  his  brexfast,  and  fumbling  among  his 
hundred  pound  notes  ;  once  he  had  laid  a  parsle  of  them  aside 
(I  knew  what  he  meant),  to  send  'em  to  his  father.  "  But  no," 
says  he  at  last,  clutching  them  all  up  together  again,  and 
throwing  them  into  his  escritaw,  "what  harm  can  he  do  me  ? 
If  he  is  a  knave,  I  know  another  who's  full  as  sharp.  Let's  see 
if  we  cannot  beat  him  at  his  own  weapons."  With  that  Mr. 
Deuceace  drest  himself  in  his  best  clothes,  and  marched  off  to 
the  Plas  Vandom,  to  pay  his  cort  to  the  fair  widdo  and  the  in- 
tresting  orfn. 

It  was  abowt  ten  o'clock,  and  he  propoased  to  the  ladies,  on 
seeing  them,  a  number  of  planus  for  the  day's  rackryation. 
Riding  in  the  Body  Balong,  going  to  the  Twillaries  to  see  King 
Looy  Disweet  (who  was  then  the  raining  sufferin  of  the  French 
crownd)  go  to  chappie,  and,  finely,  a  dinner  at  5  o'clock  at  the 
Caffy  de  Parry  ;  whents  they  were  all  to  adjourn,  to  see  a  new 
peace  at  the  theatre  of  the  Pot  St.  Martin,  called  Siissannar  and 
the  Elders. 

The  gals  agread  to  everythink,  exsep  the  two  last  prepo- 
sitiums.  "We  have  an  engagement,  my  dear  Mr.  Algernon," 
said  my  lady.  "Look — a  very  kind  letter  from  Lady  Bobtail." 
And  she  handed  over  a  pafewmd  noat  from  that  exolted  lady. 
It  ran  thus  : — 

Fhg.  St.  Honor e,  Thursday,  Feb.  15,  1817. 
"My  dear  Lady  Griffin,  —  It  is  an  age  since  we  met.  Harassing  public  duties  oc- 
cupy so  much  myself  and  Lord  Bobtail,  that  we  have  scarce  time  to  see  our  private  friends: 
among  whom,  I  hope,  my  dear  Lady  Griffin  will  allow  me  to  rank  her.  Will  you  excuse  so 
very  unceremonious  an  invitation,  and  dine  with  us  at  the  embassy  to-day?  We  sliall  be 
en  fdite  comiif,  and  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  hearing,  I  hope,  some  of  your  charming 
daughter's  singnig  in  the  evening.  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  have  addressed  a  separate  note  to 
dear  Miss  Griffin  ;  but  I  hope  she  will  pardon  a  poor  diplotnate,  who  has  so  many  letters  to 
write,  you  know. 

"  Farewell  till  seven,  when  I  positively  niitst  see  you  both.     Ever,  dearest  Lady  Griffin, 
your  affectionate 

"  Eliza  Bobtail." 

Such  a  letter  from  the  ambassdriss,  brot  by  the  ambasdor's 
Shassure,  and  sealed  with  hissealof  arms,  would  affect  anybody 
in  the  middling  ranx  of  life.  It  droav  Lady  Grifhn  mad  with 
delight ;  and,  long  before  my  master's  arrivle,  she'd  sent  Mor 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS.  457 

timer  and  Fitzclarence,  her  two  footmin,  along  with  a  polita 
reply  in  the  affummatiff. 

Master  read  the  noat  with  no  such  fealinx  of  joy.  He  felt 
that  there  was  somethink  a-going  on  behind  the  seans,  and, 
though  he  could  not  tell  how,  was  sure  that  some  danger  was 
near  him.  That  old  fox  of  a  father  of  his  had  begun  his 
M'Inations  pretty  early ! 

Deuceace  handed  back  the  letter ;  sneared,  and  poohd,  and 
hinted  that  such  an  invitation  was  an  insult  at  best  (what  he 
called  a  pees  ally)  ;  and,  the  ladies  might  depend  upon  it, 
was  only  sent  because  Lady  Bobtail  wanted  to  fill  up  two  spare 
places  at  her  table.  But  Lady  Griffin  and  Miss  would  not  have 
his  insinwations  ;  they  knew  too  fu  lords  ever  to  refuse  an  invi- 
tatium  from  any  one  of  them.  Go  they  would ;  and  poor 
Deuceace  must  dine  alone.  After  they  had  been  on  their  ride, 
and  had  had  their  other  amusemince,  master  came  back  with 
them,  chatted,  and  laft  ;  he  was  mighty  sarkastix  with  my  lady; 
tender  and  sentrymentle  with  Miss  ;  and  left  them  both  in  high 
sperrits  to  perform  their  twoUet,  before  dinner. 

As  I  came  to  the  door  (for  I  was  as  famillyer  as  a  servnt  of 
the  house),  as  I  came  into  the  drawing-room  to  announts  his 
cab,  I  saw  master  very  quietly  taking  his  pocket-book  {ox  pot 
fool.,  as  the  French  call  it)  and  thrusting  it  under  one  of  the 
cushinx  of  the  sofa.     What  game  is  this  ?  thinx  L 

Why,  this  was  the  game.  In  abowt  two  hours,  when  he 
knew  the  ladies  were  gon,  he  pretends  to  be  vastly  anxious 
abowt  the  loss  of  his  potfolio ;  and  back  he  goes  to  Lady 
Griffinses  to  seek  for  it  there. 

"  Pray,"  says  he,  on  going  in,  "  ask  Miss  Kicksey  if  I  may 
see  her  for  a  single  moment."  And  down  comes  Miss  Kicksey, 
quite  smiling,  and  happy  to  see  him. 

"  Law,  Mr.  Deuceace  ! "  says  she,  trying  to  blush  as  hard 
as  ever  she  could,  "  you  quite  surprise  me  !  I  don't  know 
whether  I  ought,  really,  being  alone,  to  admit  a  gentleman." 

"  Nay,  don't  say  so,  dear  Miss  Kicksey !  for  do  you  know, 
I  came  here  for  a  double  purpose — to  ask  about  a  pocket-book 
which  I  have  lost,  and  may,  perhaps,  have  left  here  ;  and  then, 
to  ask  if  you  will  have  the  great  goodness  to  pity  a  solitary 
bachelor,  and  give  him  a  cup  of  your  nice  tea  ?  " 

Nice  tea  !  I  thot  I  should  have  split ;  for  I'm  blest  if  master 
had  eaten  a  morsle  of  dinner ! 

Never  mind ;  down  to  tea  they  sat.  "  Do  you  take  cream 
and  sugar,  dear  sir?  "  says  poar  Kicksey,  with  a  voice  as  tender 
as  a  tuttle-duff. 


458         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.   YELLOIVPLUSH. 

"Both,  dearest  Miss  Kicksey !  "  answers  master;  who 
stowed  in  a  power  of  sashong  and  mufifinx  which  would  have 
done  honor  to  a  washawoman. 

I  sha'n't  describe  the  conversation  that  took  place  betwigst 
master  and  this  young  lady.  The  reader,  praps,  knows  y 
Deuceace  took  the  trouble  to  talk  to  her  for  an  hour,  and  to 
svv'allow  all  her  tea.  He  wanted  to  find  out  from  her  all  she 
knew  about  the  famly  money  matters,  and  settle  at  once  which 
of  the  two  Griffinses  he  should  marry. 

The  poar  thing,  of  cors,  was  no  match  for  such  a  man  as 
my  master.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  had,  if  I  may  use  the 
igspression,  "  turned  her  inside  out."  He  knew  everything 
that  she  knew  ;  and  that,  poar  creature,  was  very  little.  There 
was  nine  thousand  a  year,  she  had  heard  say,  in  money,  in 
houses,  in  banks  in  Injar,  and  what  not.  Boath  the  ladies 
signed  papers  for  selling  or  buying,  and  the  money  seemed 
equilly  divided  betwigst  them. 

Ni7ie  l/wusafid  a  year !  Deuceace  went  away,  his  clieex 
tingling,  his  heart  beating.  He,  without  a  penny,  could  nex 
morning,  if  he  liked,  be  master  of  five  thousand  per  hannum  ! 

Yes.  But  how  ?  Which  had  the  money,  the  mother  or  the 
daughter  ?  All  the  tea-drinking  had  not  taught  him  this  piece 
of  nollidge ;  and  Deuceace  thought  it  a  pity  that  he  could  not 
marry  both. 

The  ladies  came  back  at  night,  mightaly  pleased  with  their 
reception  at  the  ambasdor's  ;  and,  stepping  out  of  their  carridge, 
bid  coachmin  drive  on  with  a  gentlemin  who  had  handed  them 
out — a  stout  old  gentlemin,  who  shook  hands  most  tenderly 
at  parting,  and  promised  to  call  ofte:i  upon  my  Lady  GrifBn. 
He  was  so  polite,  that  he  wanted  to  mount  the  stairs  with  her 
ladyship;  but  no,  she  would  not  suffer  it.  "Edward,"  says 
she  to  the  coachmin,  quite  loud,  and  pleased  that  all  the  people 
in  the  hotel  should  hear  her,  "you  will  take  the  carriage,  and 
drive  his  lordship  home."  Now,  can  you  guess  who  his  lordship 
was  ?  The  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Crabs,  to  be  sure  ;  the  very 
old  genlmn  whom  4  had  seen  on  such  charming  terms  with  his 
son  the  day  before.  Master  knew  this  the  nex  day,  and  began 
to  think  he  had  been  a  fool  to  deny  his  pa  the  thousand  pound. 

Now,  though  the  suckmstansies  of  the  dinner  at  the  ambas- 
dor's only  came  to  my  years  some  time  after,  I  may  as  well 
relate  'em  here,  word  for  word,  as  they  was  told  me  by  the  very 
genlmn  who  waited  behind  Lord  Crabseses  chair. 

There  was  only  a  ^' petty  amiity  "  at  dinner,  as  Lady  Bobtail 


i 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS. 


459 


said  ;  and  my  Lord  Crabs  was  placed  betwigst  the  two  Grif- 
finses,  being  miglity  ellygant  and  palite  to  both.  "  Allow  me/' 
says  he  to  Lady  G.  (between  the  soop  and  the  fish),  "  my  dear 
madam,  to  thank  you — fervently  thank  you  for  your  goodness 
to  my  poor  boy.  Your  ladyship  is  too  young  to  experience, 
but,  I  am  sure,  far  too  tender  not  to  understand  the  gratitude 
which  must  fill  a  fond  parent's  heart  for  kindness  shown  to  his 
child.  Believe  me,"  says  my  lord,  looking  her  full  and  tenderly 
in  the  face,  "that  the  favors  you  have  done  to  another  have 
been  done  equally  to  myself,  and  awaken  in  my  bosom  the  same 
grateful  and  affectionate  feelings  with  which  you  have  already 
inspired  my  son  Algernon." 

Lady  Griffin  blusht,  and  droopt  her  head  till  her  ringlets 
fell  into  her  fish-plate  :  and  she  swallowed  Lord  Crabs's  flumry 
just  as  she  would  so  many  musharuins.  My  Lord  (whose 
powers  of  slack-jaw  was  notoarious)  nex  addrast  another  spitch 
to  Miss  Griffin.  He  said  he'd  heard  how  Deuceace  was  situated. 
Miss  blusht — what  a  happy  dog  he  was — Miss  blusht  crimson, 
and  then  he  sighed  deeply,  and  began  eating  his  turbat  and 
lobster  sos.  Master  was  a  good  un  at  flumr}',  but,  law  bless 
you  !  he  was  no  moar  equill  to  the  old  man  than  a  mole-hill  is 
to  a  mounting.  Before  the  night  was  over,  he  had  made  as 
much  progress  as  another  man  would  in  a  ear.  One  almost 
forgot  his  red  nose  and  his  big  stomick,  and  his  wicked  leering 
i's,  in  his  gentle  insiniwating  woice,  his  fund  of  annygoats,  and, 
above  all,  the  bewtifle,  mod,  religious,  and  honrabble  toan  of 
his  genral  conversation.  Praps  you  will  say  that  these  ladies 
were,  for  such  rich  pipple,  mightaly  esaly  captivated  ;  but  reck- 
lect,  my  dear  sir,  that  they  were  fresh  from  Injar, — that  they'd 
not  sean  many  lords, — that  they  adoared  the  peeridge,  as  every 
honest  woman  does  in  England  who  has  proper  feelinx,  and  has 
read  the  fashnabble  novvles, — and  that  here  at  Paris  was  their 
fust  step  into  fashnabble  sosiaty. 

Well,  after  dinner,  while  Miss  Matilda  was  singing  "  Die 
tantie,"  or  "  Dip  your  chair,"  or  some  of  them  sellabrated 
Italyian  hairs  (when  she  began  this  squall,  hang  me  if  she'd 
ever  stop),  my  lord  gets  hold  of  Lady  Griffin  again,  and  gradgaly 
begins  to  talk  to  her  in  a  very  different  strane. 

"  What  a  blessing  it  is  for  us  all,"  says  he,  "  that  Algernon 
has  found  a  friend  so  respectable  as  your  ladyship." 

"  Indeed,  my  lord  ;  and  why  .?  I  suppose  I  am  not  the  only 
respectable  friend  that  Mr.  Deuceace  has  ?  " 

"No,  surely  ;  not  the  only  one  he  has  had :  his  birth,  and, 
permit  me  to  say,  his  relationship  to  myself,  have  procured  hira 


46o         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 
many.     But — "  (here  my  lord  heaved  a  very  affecting  and  large 

"  But  what  ?  "  says  my  lady,  laffing  at  the  igspression  of  his 
dismal  face.  "  You  don't  mean  that  Mr.  Deuceace  has  lost 
them  or  is  unworthy  of  them  .''  " 

"  I  trust  not,  my  dear  madam,  I  trust  not ;  but  he  is  wild, 
thoughtless,  extravagant,  and  embarrassed  :  and  you  know  a 
man  imder  these  circumstances  is  not  very  particular  as  to  his 
associates." 

"  Embarrassed  ?  Good  heavens  !  He  says  he  has  two 
thousand  a  year  left  him  by  a  godmother  ;  and  he  does  not 
seem  even  to  spend  his  income — a  very  handsome  independ- 
ence, too,  for  a  bachelor." 

My  lord  nodded  his  head  sadly,  and  said, — '•  Will  your  lady- 
ship give  me  your  word  of  honor  to  be  secret  ?  My  son  has 
but  a  thousand  a  year,  which  I  allow  him,  and  is  heavily  in 
debt.  He  has  played,  madam,  I  fear ;  and  for  this  reason  I  am 
so  glad  to  hear  that  he  is  in  a  respectable  domestic  circle, 
where  he  may  learn,  in  the  presence  of  far  greater  and  purer 
attractions,  to  forget  the  dice-box,  and  the  low  company  which 
has  been  his  bane." 

My  Lady  Griffin  looked  very  grave  indeed.  Was  it  true? 
Was  Deuceace  sincere  in  his  professions  of  love,  or  was  he  only 
a  sharper  wooing  her  for  her  money  ?  Could  she  doubt  her 
informer  ?  his  own  father,  and,  what's  more,  a  real  flesh  and 
blood  pear  of  parlyment  ?  She  determined  she  would  try  him. 
Praps  she  did  not  know  she  had  liked  Deuceace  so  much,  until 
she  kem  to  feel  how  much  she  should  hate  him  if  she  found  he'd 
been  playing  her  false. 

The  evening  was  over,  and  back  they  came,  as  wee've  seen, 
— my  lord  driving  home  in  my  lady's  carridge,  her  ladyship  and 
Miss  walking  up  stairs  to  their  own  apartmince. 

Here,  for  a  wonder,  was  poar  Miss  Kicksey  quite  happy  and 
smiling,  and  evidently  full  of  a  secret, — something  mighty 
pleasant,  to  judge  from  her  loox.  She  did  not  long  keep  it. 
As  she  was  making  tea  for  the  ladies  (for  in  that  house  they 
took  a  cup  regular  before  bed-time),  "  Well,  my  lady,"  says  she, 
"  who  do  you  think  has  been  to  drink  tea  with  me  ?  "  Poar 
thing,  a  frendly  face  was  an  event  in  her  life — a  tea-party  quite 
a  hera ! 

"  Why,  perhaps,  Lenoir  my  maid,"  says  my  lady,  looking 
grave.  "  I  wish.  Miss  Kicksey,  you  would  not  demean  your- 
self by  mixing  with  my  domestics.  Recollect,  madam,  that  you 
are  sister  to  Lady  Griffin." 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS.  461 

"  No,  my  lady,  it  was  not  Lenoir  ;  it  was  a  gentleman,  and 
a  handsome  gentleman,  too." 

"  Oh,  it  was  Monsieur  de  I'Orge,  then,"  says  Miss  ;  "  he 
promised  to  bring  me  some  guitar-strings." 

"  No,  nor  yet  M.  de  I'Orge.  He  came,  but  was  not  so 
polite  as  to  ask  for  me.  What  do  you  think  of  your  own  beau, 
the  Honorable  Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace;"  and,  so  saying,  poar 
Kicksey  fclapped  her  hands  together,  and  looked  as  joyfle  as  if 
she'd  come  into  a  fortin. 

"  Mr.  Deuceace  here  ;  and  why,  pray.?  "  says  my  lady,  who 
recklected  all  that  his  exlent  pa  had  been  saying  to  her. 

"  Why,  in  the  first  place,  he  had  left  his  pocket-book,  and 
in  the  second,  he  wanted,  he  said,  a  dish  of  my  nice  tea  ;  which 
he  took,  and  stayed  with  me  an  hour,  or  moar." 

"  And  pray.  Miss  Kicksey,"  said  Miss  Matilda,  quite  con- 
tempshusly,  "  what  may  have  been  the  subject  of  your  con- 
versation with  Mr.  Algernon  ?  Did  you  talk  politics,  or  music, 
or  fine  arts,  or  metaphysics  ?  "  Miss  M.  being  what  was  called 
a  blue  (as  most  humpbacked  women  in  sosiaty  are),  always 
made  a  pint  to  speak  on  these  grand  subjects. 

"  No,  indeed  ;  he  talked  of  no  such  awful  matters.  If  he 
had,  you  know,  Matilda,  I  should  never  have  understood  him. 
First  we  talked  about  the  weather,  next  about  muffins  and 
crumpets.  Crumpets,  he  said,  he  liked  best ;  and  then  we 
talked  "  (here  Miss  Kicksey's  voice  fell)  "  about  poor  dear  Sii 
George  in  heaven  !  what  a  good  husband  he  was,  and " 

"  What  a  good  fortune  he  left, — eh.  Miss  Kicksey  ?  "  says 
my  lady,  with  a  hard,  snearing  voice,  and  a  diabollicle  grin. 

"  Yes,  dear  Leonora,  he  spoke  so  respectfully  of  your 
blessed  husband,  and  seemed  so  anxious  about  you  and  Matilda, 
it  was  quite  charming  to  hear  him,  dear  man  !  " 

"  And  pray.  Miss  Kicksey,  what  did  you  tell  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  told  him  that  you  and  Leonora  had  nine  thousand 
a  year,  and " 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  nothing  ;  that  is  all  I  know.  I  am  sure  I  wish  I  had 
ninety,"  says  poor  Kicksey,  her  eyes  turning  to  heaven. 

"  Ninety  fiddlesticks  !  Did  not  Mr.  Deuceace  ask  how  the 
money  was  left,  and  to  which  of  us  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  could  not  tell  him.*' 

"  I  knew  it !  "  says  my  lady,  slapping  down  her  teacup, — • 
"  I  knew  it  !  " 

"  Well  !  "  says  Miss  Matilda,  "  and  why  not.  Lady  Griffin  ? 
There  is  no  reason  you  should  break    your  teacup,  because 

30 


462         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

Algernon  asks  a  harmless  question.  He  is  not  mercenary  ;  he 
is  all  candor,  innocence,  generosity  !  He  is  himself  blessed 
with  a  sufficient  portion  of  the  world's  goods  to  be  content ;  and 
often  and  often  has  he  told  me  he  hoped  the  woman  of  his 
choice  might  come  to  him  without  a  penny,  that  he  might  show 
the  purity  of  his  affection." 

''  I've  no  doubt,"  says  my  lady.  "  Perhaps  the  lady  of  his 
choice  is  Miss  Matflda  Griffin  !  "  and  she  flung  out  of  the  room, 
slamming  the  door,  and  leaving  Miss  Matilda  to  bust  into  tsars, 
as  was  her  reglar  cistom,  and  pour  iier  loves  and  woas  into  the 
buzzom  of  Miss  Ki^rksey. 

Chap.  IV.  —  '^Hitting  the  Nale  on  the  Hedd." 

The  nex  morning,  down  came  me  and  master  io  Lady 
Griffinses, — I  amusing  myself  with  the  gals  in  the  antyroom,  he 
paying  his  devour-;  to  the  ladies  in  the  salong.  Miss  was 
thrumming  on  her  gitter  ;  my  lady  was  before  a  great  box  of 
papers,  busy  with  accounts,  bankers'  books,  lawyers'  letters, 
and  what  not.^  Law  bless  us!  it's  a  kind  of  bisniss  I  should 
like  well  enuff ;  especially  when  my  hannual  account  was 
seven  or  eight  thousand  on  the  right  side,  like  my  lady's.  My 
lady  in  this  house  kep  all  these  matters  to  herself.  Miss  was 
a  vast  deal  too  sentrimentle  to  mind  business. 

Miss  Matilda's  eyes  sparkled  as  master  came  in  ;  she  pinted 
gracefully  to  a  place  on  the  sofy  beside  her,  which  Deuceace 
took.  My  lady  only  looked  up  for  a  moment,  smiled  very 
kindly,  and  down  went  her  head  among  the  papers  agen,  as 
busy  as  a  B. 

"  Lady  Griffin  has  had  letters  from  London,"  says  Miss, 
"  from  nast}'  lawyers  and  people.  Come  here  and  sit  by  me, 
you  naughty  man  you  !  " 

And  down  sat  master.  "  Willingly,"  says  he,  "  my  dear 
Miss  Griffin  ;  why,  I  declare,  it  is  quite  a  tete-a-tete^ 

"Well,"  says  Miss  (after  theprillimnary  flumries,  in  coarse), 
"we  met  a  friend  of  yours  at  the  embassy.^Mr.  Deuceace." 

"  My  father,  doubtless  ;  he  is  a  great  friend  of  the  ambassa« 
dor,  and  surprised  me  myself  by  a  visit  the  night  before  last." 

"  What  a  dear  delightful  old  man  !  how  he  loves  you,  Mr. 
Deuceace  ! " 

"  Oh,  amazingly  !  "  says  master,  throwing  his  i's  to  heaven. 

"  He  spoke  of  nothing  but  you,  and  such  praises  of  you  !  " 

Master  breathed  more  freely.     "  He  is  very  good,  my  deaf 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS.  463 

father;  but  blind,  as  all  fathers  are,  he  is  so  partial  and  at- 
tached to  lAe." 

"  He  spoke  of  you  being  his  favorite  child,  and  regretted 
that  you  were  not  his  eldest  son.  '  1  can  but  leave  him  the 
small  portion  of  a  younger  brother,'  he  said  ;  'but  never  mind, 
he  has  talents,  a  noble  name,  and  an  independence  of  his 
own.'  " 

"  An  independence  ?  yes,  oh  yes  ;  I  am  quite  independent  of 
my  father." 

"  Two  thousand  pounds  a  year  left  you  by  your  godmother ; 
the  very  same  you  told  us  you  know." 

"  Neither  more  nor  less,"  says  master,  bobbing  his  head ; 
"  a  sufficiency,  my  dear  Miss  Griffin, — to  a  man  of  my  moderate 
habits  an  ample  provision." 

"  By  the  bye,"  cries  out  Lady  Griffin,  interrupting  the  con- 
versation, "  you  who  are  talking  about  money  matters  there,  I 
wish  you  would  come  to  the  aid  of  poor  vie  !  Come,  naughty 
boy,  and  help  me  out  with  this  long,  long  sum." 

Didn't  he  go — that's  all  !  My  i,  how  his  i's  shone,  as  he 
skipt  across  the  room,  and  seated  himself  by  my  lady  ! 

"Look!"  said  she,  "my  agents  write  me  over  that  they 
have  received  a  remittance  of  7,200  rupees,  at  2s.  9^.  a  rupee. 
Do  tell  me  what  the  sum  is,  in  pounds  and  shillings;"  which 
master  did  with  great  gravity. 

"  Nine  hundred  and  ninety  pounds.  Good ;  I  dare  say  you 
are  right.  I'm  sure  I  can't  go  through  the  fatigue  to  see.  And 
now  comes  another  question.  Whose  money  is  this,  mine  or 
Matilda's  ?  You  see  it  is  the  interest  of  a  sum  in  India,  which 
we  have  not  had  occasion  to  touch  ;  and,  according  to  the  terms 
of  poor  Sir  George's  will,  I  really  don't  know  how  to  dispose  of 
the  money  except  to  spend  it.  Matilda,  what  shall  we  do  with 
it  t  " 

"  La,  ma'am,  I  wish  you  would  arrange  the  business  your- 
self." 

"  Well,  then,  Algernon,  you  tell  me  ; "  and  she  laid  her  hand 
on  his,  and  looked  him  most  pathetickly  in  the  face. 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  I  don't  know  how  Sir  George  left  his 
money  ;  you  must  let  me  see  his  will,  first." 

"Oh,  willingly." 

Master's  chair  seemed  suddenly  to  have  got  springs  in  the 
cushns ;  he  was  obliged  to  hold hhusclf  doum. 

"  Look  here,  I  have  only  a  copy,  taken  by  my  hand  from 
Sir  George's  own  manuscript.  Soldiers,  you  know,  do  not  em_- 
ploy  lawyers  much,  and  this  was  written  on  the  night  before 


464  'T^^^  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

going  into  action."  And  she  read,  "  '  I,  George  Griffin,'  &c., 
&c. — you  know  how  these  things  begin — '  being  now  of  sane 
mind  ' — um,  um,  urn, — '  leave  to  my  friends,  Thomas  Abraham 
Hicks,  a  colonel  in  the  H.  E.  I.  Company's  Service,  and  to 
John  Monro  Mackirkincroft  (of  the  house  of  Hufifle,  Mackirkin- 
croft,  and  Dobbs,  at  Calcutta),  the  whole  of  my  property,  to  be 
realized  as  speedily  as  they  may  (consistently  with  the  interests 
of  the  property),  in  trust  for  my  wife,  Leanora  Emilia  Griffin 
(born  L.  E.  Kicksey),  and  my  only  legitimate  child,  Matilda 
Griffin.  The  interest  resulting  from  such  property  to  be  paid 
to  them,  share  and  share  alike  ;  the  principal  to  remain  un- 
touched, in  the  names  of  the  said  T.  A.  Hicks  and  J.  M.  Mac- 
kirkincroft, until  the  death  of  my  wife,  Leonora  P^milia  Griffin, 
when  it  shall  be  paid  to  my  daughter,  Matilda  Griffin,  her  heirs, 
executors,  or  assigns.'  " 

"  There,"  said  my  lady,  "  we  won't  read  any  more  ;  all  the 
rest  is  stuff.  But  now  you  know  the  whole  business,  tell  us 
what  is  to  be  done  with  the  money  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  money,  unquestionably,  should  be  divided  be- 
tween you." 

"  Tant  mieiix,  say  I  ;  I  really  thought  it  had  been  all  Ma- 
tilda's." 

*  *  #  *  * 

There  was  a  paws  for  a  minit  or  two  after  the  will  had  been 
read.  Master  left  the  desk  at  which  he  had  been  seated  with 
her  ladyship,  paced  up  and  down  the  room  for  a  while,  and  then 
came  round  to  the  place  where  Miss  Matilda  was  seated.  At 
last  he  said,  in  a  low,  trembling  voice, — 

"  I  am  almost  sorry,  my  dear  Lady  Griffin,  that  you  have 
read  that  will  to  me  ;  for  an  attachment  such  as  mine  must 
seem,  I  fear,  mercenary,  when  the  object  of  it  is  so  greatly  favored 
by  worldly  fortune.  Miss  Griffin — Matilda  !  I  know  I  may 
say  the  word  ;  your  dear  eyes  grant  me  the  permission.  I  need 
not  tell  you,  or  you,  dear  mother-in-law,  how  long,  how  fondly, 
I  have  adored  you.  My  tender,  my  beautiful  Matilda,  I  will 
not  afifect  to  say  I  have  not  read  your  heart  ere  this,  and  that  I 
have  not  known  the  preference  with  which  you  have  honored 
me.  Speak  it,  dear  girl  !  from  your  own  sweet  lips  :  in  the 
presence  of  an  affectionate  parent,  utter  the  sentence  which  is 
to  seal  my  happiness  for  life.  Matilda,  dearest  Matilda!  say 
oh  say,  that  you  love  me  !  " 

Miss  M.  shivered,  turned  pail,  rowled  her  eyes  about,  and 
fell  on  master's  neck,  whispering  hodibly,  "/^t?/" 

My  lady  looked  at  the  pair  for  a  moment  with  her  teeth 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS.  46  ^ 

grinding,  her  i's  glaring,  her  busm  throbbing,  and  her  face  chock 
white  ;  for  all  the  world  like  Madam  Pasty,  in  the  oppra  of 
"  My  dear "  (when  she's  going  no  niudder  her  childring,  you 
recklect)  ;  and  out  she  flounced  from  the  room,  without  a  word, 
knocking  down  poar  me,  who  happened  to  be  very  near  the 
dor,  and  leaving  my  master  along  with  his  crook-back  mis- 
tress. 

I've  repotted  the  speech  he  made  to  her  pretty  well.  The 
fact  is,  I  got  it  in  a  ruff  copy  ;  only  on  the  copy  it's  wrote, 
Lady  Griffin,  Leonora!'''  instead  of  Miss  Griffin,  Matilda"  as  in 
the  abuff,  and  so  on. 

Master  had  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head  this  time  he 
thought :  but  his  adventors  an't  over  yet. 

Chap.  V. — ^The  Griffin's  Claws. 

Well,  master  had  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head  this  time : 
thanx  to  luck — the  crooked  one,  to  be  sure,  but  then  it  had  the 
goold  nobb,  which  was  the  part  Deuceace  most  valued,  as  well 
he  should ;  being  a  connyshure  as  to  the  relletiff  valyou  of 
pretious  metals,  and  much  preferring  virging  goold  like  this  to 
poor  old  battered  iron  like  my  Lady  Griffin. 

And  so,  in  spite  of  his  father  (at  which  old  noblemin  Mr. 
Deuceace  now  snapt  his  fingers),  in  spite  of  his  detts  (which,  to 
do  him  Justas,  had  never  stood  much  in  his  way),  and  in  spite 
of  his  povatty,  idleness,  extravagans,  swindling,  and  debotcher- 
ies  of  all  kinds  (which  an't  geficrally  very  favorable  to  a  young 
man  who  has  to  make  his  way  in  the  world)  ;  in  spite  of  all, 
there  he  was,  I  say  at  the  topp  of  the  trea,  the  fewcher  master 
of  a  perfect  fortun,  the  defianced  husband  of  a  fool  of  a  wife. 
What  can  mortial  man  want  more  }  Vishns  of  ambishn  now 
occupied  his  soal.  Shooting  boxes,  oppra  boxes,  money  boxes 
always  full ;  hunters  at  Melton  ;  a  seat  in  the  house  of  Com- 
mins :  heaven  knows  what  I  and  not  a  poar  footman,  who  only 
describes  what  he's  seen,  and  can't,  in  cors,  pennytrate  into  the 
idears  and  the  busms  of  men. 

You  may  be  shore  that  the  three-cornered  noats  came  pretty 
thick  now  from  the  Griffinses.  Miss  was  always  a-writing  them 
befoar;  and  now,  nite,  noon,  and  mornink,  breakfast,  dinner, 
and  sopper,  in  they  came,  till  my  pantry  (for  master  never  read 
'em,  and  I  carried  'em  out)  was  puffickly  intolrabble  from  the 
odor  of  musk,  ambygrease,  bargymot,  and  other  sense  with 
which  they  were  impregniated.     Here's  the  contense  of  three 


466         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

on  'em,  which  I've  kep  in  my  dex  these  twenty  years  as  skee 
wriosities.  Faw  !  I  can  smel  'em  at  this  very  minit,  as  I  am 
copying  them  down, 

Billy  Doo.     No.  I. 

"  Monday  morning^,  2  o^ clack, 
"  'Tis  the  .witching  hoar  of  night .  Lui>a  illnmmea  my  chanrsber,  and  ialis  upon  my  sleepless 
pillow.  By  her  light  I  am  inditing  these  words  to  thee,  my  Algernon.  My  brave  and 
beautiful,  my  soul's  lord  !  when  shall  the  time  come  when  the  tedious  night  shall  not  sepa- 
rate us,  nor  the  blessed  day?  Twelve  !  one!  two!  I  have  heard  the  bells  chime,  and  the 
quarters,  and  never  cease  to  think  of  my  husband.  My  adored  Percy,  pardon  the  girlish 
confession, — 1  have  kissed  the  letter  at  this  place.  Will  thy  lips  press  it  too,  and  remain 
for  a  moment  ou  the  sjjot  which  has.  been  equally  saluted  by  your 

"  Matilda  ? " 

This  was  the  fusf  letter,  and  was  brot  to  our  house  by  one  of 
the  poar  footmin,  Fitzclarence,  at  sicks  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
I  thot  it  was  for  life  and  death,  and  woak  master  at  that  ex- 
traornary  hour,  and  gave  it  to  him.  I  shall  never  forgit  him, 
when  he  red  it ;  he  cramped  it  up,  and  he  cust  and  swoar,, 
applying  to  the  lady  who  roat,  the  genlmn  that  brought  it,  and 
me  who  introjuiced  it  to  his  notice  such  a  collection  of  epitafs 
as  I  seldom  hered,  excep  at  Billinxgit.  The  fact  is  thiss  ;  for 
a  fust  letter,  miss's  noat  was  raf/ier  too  strong  and  sentymentle. 
But  that  was  her  way  ;  she  was  always  reading  melancholy 
stoary  books — "  Tliaduse  of  Wawsaw,"  the  "  Sorrows  of  Mac- 
Whirter,"  and  such  like. 

After  about  6  of  them,  master  never  yoused  to  read  them  ; 
but  handid  them  over  to  me,  to  see  if  there  was  anythink  in 
them  which  must  be  answered,  in  order  to  kip  up  appearuntses- 
The  next  letter  is 

No.  II. 

" Beloved !  to  what  strange  madnesses  will  passion  lead  one!  Lady  Gritfin,sfnce  you* 
avowal  vestcrday,  has  not  spoken  a  word  to  your  poor  Matilda  ;  has  declared  that  she  will 
admit  no  one  (heigbo  I  not  even  you,  my  Algernon);  and  has  locked  herself  in  her  own 
dressing-room.  I  do  believe  that  she  \9,jealo7is,  and  fancies  that  you  were  in  love  with 
ker  !  Ha,  ha!  I  could  have  told  her  fljio/Afr  /o/^—n'est-ce  pas?  Adieu,  adieu,  adieu  I 
A  thousand  thousand  million  kisses  ?  ..,.„.. 

"M.  G." 

"  Monday  afternoon,  2  o'clock'' 

There  was  another  letter  kern  before  bedtime  ;  for  though 
me  and  master  called  at  theGr5ffinses,we  wairnt  aloud  to  enter 
at  no  price.  Mortimer  and  Fitzclarence  grin'd  at  me,  as  much 
as  to  sav  we  were  going  to  be  relations ;  but  I  don't  spose 
master  was  very  sorry  when  he  was  obleached  to  come  back 
without  seeing  the  fare  objict  of  his  affeckshns. 

Well,  on  Chewsdy  there  was  the  same  game  ;  ditto  on  Wens- 
day  j  only,  when  v*'c  called  there,  who  should  we  see  but  our 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS.  467 

father,  Lord  Crabs,  who  was  waiving  his  hand  to  Miss  Kicksey, 
and  saying  he  should  be  back  to  dinner  at  7,  just  as  me  and 
master  came  up  the  stares.  There  was  no  admittns  for  us 
though.  "  Bah  !  bah  !  never  mind,"  says  my  lord,  taking  his 
son  affeckshnately  by  the  hand.  "  What,  two  strings  to  your 
bow  ;  ay,  Algernon .?  The  dowager  a  little  jealous,  miss  a  little 
lovesick.  But  my  lady's  fit  of  anger  will  vanish,  and  I  promise 
you,  my  boy,  that  you  shall  see  your  fair  one  to-morrow." 

And  so  saying,  my  lord  walked  master  down  stares,  looking 
at  him  as  tender  and  affeckshnat,  and  speaking  to  him  as  sweet 
as  posbill.  Master  did  not  know  what  to  think  of  it.  He  never 
new  what  -game  his  old  father  was  at ;  only  he  somehow  felt 
that  he  had  got  his  head  in  a  net,  in  spite  of  his  suxess  on 
Sunday.  I  knew  it — I  knew  it  quite  well,  as  soon  as  I  saw  the 
old  genlmn  igsammin  him,  by  a  kind  of  smile  which  came  over 
his  old  face,  and  was  somethink  betwigst  the  angellic  and  the 
direbollicle. 

But  master's  dowts  were  cleared  up  nex  day  and  every- 
thing was  bright  again.  At  brexfast,  in  comes  a  note  with 
inclosier,  boath  of  witch  I  here  copy  : — 

No.  IX. 

"  Thursday  morning. 

"Victoria,  Victoria  !  Mamma  has  yielded  at  last;  not  her  consent  to  our  union,  but 
her  consent  to  receive  you  as  before  ;  and  has  promised  to  forget  the  past.  Silly  woman, 
how  could  she  ever  think  of  you  as  anything  but  the  lover  of  your  Matilda  ?  I  am  in  a 
whir!  of  delicious  joy  and  passionate  excitement.  I  have  been  awake  all  this  long  night, 
thinking  of  thee,  my  Algernon,  and  longing  for  the  blissful  hour  of  meeting. 
"  Come ! 

"M.  G." 

This  is  the  inclosier  from  my  lady  : — 

"  I  WILL  not  tell  you  that  your  behavior  on  Sunday  did  not  deeply  shock  me.  I  had 
been  foolish  enough  to  think  of  other  plans,  and  to  fancy  your  heart  (if  you  had  any)  was 
fixed  elsewhere  than  on  one  at  whose  foibles  you  have  often  laughed  with  me,  and  whose 
verson  at  least  cannot  have  charmed  you. 

"  Mystei: -daughter  will  not,  I  presume,  marry  without  at  least  going  through  the  cere- 
mony of  asking  my  consent  ;  I  cannot,  as  yet,  give  it.  Have  I  not  reason  to  doubt 
whether  slie  will  be  happy  in  trusting  herself  to  you? 

"  I3ut  she  is  of  age,  and  has  the  right  to  receive  in  her  own  house  all  those  who  may  be 
agreeable  to  her, — certainly  you,  who  are  likely  to  be  one  day  so  nearly  connected  with  her. 
If  I  have  honest  reason  to  believe  that  your  love  for  Miss  GriflSn  is  sincere  ;  if  I  find  in  a 
few  months  that  you  yourself  are  still  desirous  to  marry  her,  I  can,  of  course,  place  no  further 
obstacles  in  your  way. 

"  You  are  welcome,  then,  to  return  to  our  hotel.  I  cannot  promise  to  receive  you  as  I 
did  of  old  ;  you  would  despise  me  if  I  did.  I  can  promise,  however,  to  think  no  more  of  all 
that  has  passed  between  us,  and  yield  up  my  own  happiness  for  that  of  the  daughter  of  my 
dear  husband. 

"  L.  E.  G." 

Well,  now,  an't  this  a  manly,  straitforard  letter  enough,  and 
natral  from  a  woman  whom  we  had,  to  confess  the  truth,  treated 
most  scuvvily?     Master  thought  so,   and  went  and  made   a 


^68         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  3TR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

tender,  respeckful  speacli  to  Lady  Griffin  (a  little  flumry  costs 
nothink).  Grave  and  sorrofle  he  kist  her  hand,  and,  speakin 
in  a  very  low  adgitayted  voice,  calld  Hevn  to  witness  how  he 
deplord  that  his  conduct  should  ever  have  given  rise  to  such  an 
unfortnt  ideer ;  but  if  he  might  offer  her  esteem,  respect,  the 
warmest  and  tenderest  admiration,  he  trusted  she  would  accept 
the  same,  and  a  deal  moar  flumry  of  the  kind,  with  dark,  solium 
glansis  of  the  eyes,  and  plenty  of  white  pockit-hankercher. 

He  thought  he'd  make  all  safe.     Poar  fool  !  he  was  in  a  net 
— sich  a  net  as  I  never  yet  see  set  to  ketch  a  roag  in. 


Chap.  VI. — The  Jewel. 

The  Shevalier  de  I'Orge,  the  young  Frenchmin  whom  I  wrote 
of  in  my  last,  who  had  been  rather  shy  of  his  visits  while  master 
was  coming  it  so  very  strong,  now  came  back  to  his  old  place 
by  the  side  of  Lady  Griffin  :' there  was  no  love  now,  though, 
betwigst  him  and  master,  although  the  shevallier  had  got  his 
lady  back  agin  ;  Deuceace  being  compleatly  devoted  to  his 
crookid  Veanus. 

The  shevalier  was  a  little,  pale,  moddist,  insinifishnt  crea- 
ture ;  and  I  shoodn't  have  thought,  from  his  appearants,  would 
have  the  heart  to  do  harm  to  a  fli,  much  less  to  stand  befor 
such  a  tremendious  tiger  and  fire-eater  as  my  master.  But  I 
see  putty  well,  after  aVeek,  from  his  manner  of  going  on--of 
speakin  at  master,  and  lookin  at  him,  and  olding  his  lips  tight 
when  Deuceace  came  into  the  room,  and  glaring  at  him  with 
his  i's,  that  he  hated  the  Honrabble  Algernon  Percy. 

Shall  I  tell  you  why?  Because  my  Lady  Griffin  hated  hnn  : 
hated  him  wuss  than  pison,  or  the  devvle,  or  even  wuss  than 
her  daughter-in-law.  Praps  you  phansy  that  the  letter  you 
have  juss  red  was  honest ;  praps  you  amadgin  that  the  span  of 
the  reading  of  the  will  came  on  by  mere  chans,  and  in  the 
reglar  cors  of  suckmstansies  :  it  was  all  a  game,  I  tell  you — a 
reglar  trap ;  and  that  extrodnar  clever  young  man,  my  master, 
as  neatly  put  his  foot  into  it,  as  ever  a  pocher  did  in  fesnt 
preserve. 

The  shevalier  had  his  q  from  Lady  Griffin.  When  Deuceace 
went  off  the  feald,  back  came  De  I'Orge  to  her  feet,  not  a  witt 
less  tender  than  befor.  Por  fellow,  por  fellow  !  he  really  loved 
this  woman.  He  might  as  well  have  foln  in  love  with  a  bore- 
constructor  !  He  was  so  blinded  and  beat  by  the  power  wich 
she  had  got  over  him,  that  if  she  told  him  black  was  white  he'd 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS-  469 

beleave  it,  or  if  she  ordered  him  to  commit  murder,  he'd  do  it: 
she  wanted  something  very  like  it,  I  can  tell  you. 

I've  already  said  how,  in  the  fust  part  of  their  acquaintance, 
master  used  to  laff  at  De  I'Orge's  bad  Inglish,  and  funny  ways. 
The  little  creature  had  a  thowsnd  of  these  ;  and  being  small, 
and  a  Frenchman,  master,  in  cors,  looked  on  him  with  that 
good-humored  kind  of  contemp  which  a  good  Brittn  ot  always 
to  show.  He  rayther  treated  him  like  an  intelligent  munky 
than  a  man,  and  ordered  him  about  as  if  he'd  bean  my  lady's 
footman. 

All  this  munseer  took  in  very  good  part,  until  after  the  quarl 
betwigst  master  and  Lady  Griffin ;  when  that  lady  took  care  to 
turn  the  tables.  Whenever  master  and  miss  were  not  present 
(as  I've  heard  the  servants  say),  she  used  to  laff  at  shevalliay 
for  his  obeajance  and  sivillatty  to  master.  For  her  part,  she 
wondered  how  a  man  of  his  birth  could  act  a  servnt :  how  any 
man  could  submit  to  such  contemsheous  behavior  from  another  ; 
and  then  she  told  him  how  Deuceace  was  always  snearing  at 
him  behind  his  back  ;  how,  in  fact,  he  ought  to  hate  him  cor- 
jaly,  and  how  it  was  suttnly  time  to  show  his  sperrit. 

Well,  the  poar  little  man  beleaved  all  this  from  his  hart, 
and  was  angry  or  pleased,  gentle  or  quarlsum,  igsactly  as  my 
lady  liked.  There  got  to  be  frequint  rows  betwigst  him  and 
master;  sharp  words  flung  at  each  other  across  the  dinner- 
table  ;  dispewts  about  handing  ladies  their  smeling-botls,  or 
seeing  them  to  their  carridge  ;  or  going  in  and  out  of  a  roam 
fust,  or  any  such  nonsince. 

"  For  hevn's  sake,"  I  heerd  my  lady,  in  the  midi  of  one  of 
these  tiffs,  say,  pail,  and  the  tears  trembling  in  her  i's,  "  do,  do 
be  calm,  Mr,  Deuceace.  Monsieur  de  I'Orge,  I  beseech  you  to 
forgive  him.  You  are,  both  of  you,  so  esteemed,  lov'd,  by 
members  of  this  family,  that  for  its  peace  as  well  as  your  own, 
you  should  forbear  to  quarrel." 

It  was  on  the  way  to  the  Sally  Mangy  that  this  brangling 
had  begun,  and  it  ended  jest  as  they  were  seating  themselves, 
I  shall  never  forgit  poar  little  De  I'Orge's  eyes,  when  my  lady 
said,  "both  of  you."  He  stair'd  at  my  lady  for  a  momint, 
turned  pail,  red,  look'd  wild,  and  then,  going  round  to  master, 
shook  his  hand  as  if  he  would  have  wrung  it  off,  Mr.  Deuce- 
ace only  bow'd  and  grin'd,  and  turned  away  quite  stately; 
Miss  heaved  a  loud  O  from  her  busm,  and  looked  up  in  his 
face  with  an  igspreshn  jest  as  if  she  could  have  eat  him  up  with 
love  ;  and  the  little  shevalliay  sate  down  to  his  soop-plate,  and 
wus  so  happy,  that  I'm  blest  if  he  wasn't  crying!     He  thought 


470         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.    YELLOWPLUSIf. 

the  widdow  had  made  her  declyration,  and  would  have  him  ; 
and  so  thought  Deuceace,  who  look'd  at  her  for  some  time 
mighty  bitter  and  contempshus,  and  then  fell  a-talking  with 
Miss. 

Now,  though  master  didn't  choose  to  marry  Lady  Griffin,  as 
he  might  have  done,  he  yet  thought  fit  to  be  very  angry  at  the 
notion  of  her  marrying  anybody  else  ;  and  so,  consquintly,  was 
in  a  fewry  at  this  confision  which  she  had  made  regarding  her 
parshaleaty  for  the  French  shevaleer. 

And  this  I've  perseaved  in  the  cors  of  my  expearants 
through  life,  that  when  you  vex  him,  a  roag's  no  longer  a  roag : 
you  find  him  out  at  oust  when  he's  in  a  passion,  for  he  shows, 
as  it  ware,  his  cloven  foot  the  very  instnt  you  tread  on  it.  At 
least,  this  is  what  young  roags  do  ;  it  requires  very  cool  blood 
and  long  practis  to  get  over  this  pint,  and  not  to  show  your 
pashn  when  you  feel  it  and  snarl  when  you  are  angry.  Old 
Crabs  wouldn't  do  it  ;  being  like  another  noblemin,  of  whom  I 
heard  the  Duke  of  Wellington  say,  while  waiting  behind  his 
graci's  chair,  that  if  you  were  kicking  him  from  behind,  no  one 
standing  before  him  would  know  it,  from  the  bewtifle  smiling 
igspreshn  of  his  face.  Young  master  hadn't  got  so  far  in  the 
thief's  grammer,  and,  when  he  was  angry,  show'd  it.  And  it's 
also  to  be  remarked  (a  very  profownd  observation  for  a  ""oot  n'n, 
but  we  have  i's  though  we  do  wear  plush  britchis),  it's  to  be  re- 
marked, I  say,  that  one  of  these  chaps  is  much  sooner  maid 
angry  than  another,  because  honest  men  yield  to  other  people, 
roags  never  do  ;  honest  men  love  other  people,  roags  only  them- 
selves ;  and  the  slightest  thing  which  comes  in  the  way  of  thir 
beloved  objects  sets  them  fewrious.  Master  hadn't  led  a  life 
of  gambling,  swindling,  and  every  kind  of  debotch  to  be  good- 
tempered  at  the  end  of  it,  I  prommis  you. 

He  was  in  a  pashun,  and  when  he  7cias  in  a  pashn,  a  more 
insalent,  insuffrable,  overbearing  broot  didn't  live. 

This  was  the  very  pint  to  which  my  lady  wished  to  bring 
him  ;  for  I  must  tell  you,  that  though  she  had  been  trying  all 
her  might  to  set  master  and  the  shevalliay  by  the  years,  she  had 
suxcaded  only  so  far  as  to  make  them  hate  each  other  pro- 
fowndly :  but  somehow  or  other  the  2  cox  wouldn't/^///. 

I  doan't  think  Deuceace  ever  suspected  any  game  on  the 
part  of  her  ladyship,  for  she  carried  it  on  so  admirally,  that  the 
quarls  which  daily  took  place  betwigst  him  and  the  Frenchman 
never  seemed  to  come  from  her  ;  on  the  contry,  she  acted  as  the 
reglar  pease-maker  between  them,  as  I've  just  shown  in  the  tiff 
which  took  place  at  the  door  of  the  Sally  Mangy.     Besides  the  2 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS. 


471 


young  men,  though  reddy  enough  to  snarl,  were  natrally  un- 
willing to  cum  to  blocs.  I'll  tell  you  why:  being  friends,  and 
idle,  they  spent  their  mornins  as  young  fashnabbles  genrally  do, 
at  billiads,  fensing,  riding,  pistle-shooting,  or  some  such  im- 
proving study.  In  billiads,  master  beat  the  Frenchmn  hollow 
(and  had  won  a  pretious  sight  of  money  from  him  :  but  that's 
neither  here  nor  there,  or,  as  the  French  say,  ofitry  nod)  ;  at 
pistle-shooting,  master  could  knock  down  eight  immidges  out  of 
ten,  and  De  I'Orge  seven  ;  and  in  fensing,  the  Frenchman 
could  pink  the  Honorable  Algernon  down  evry  one  of  his  wes- 
kit  buttns.  They'd  each  of  them  been  out  more  than  oust,  for 
every  Frenchman  will  fight,  and  master  had  been  obleag'd  to 
do  so  in  the  cors  of  his  bisniss  ;  and  knowing  each  other's  cur- 
ridg,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  either  could  put  a  hundrid  bolls 
running  into  a  hat  at  30  yards,  they  wairn't  very  willing  to  try 
such  exparrymence  upon  their  own  hats  with  their  own  heads 
in  them.  So  you  see  they  kep  quiet,  and  only  grould  at  each 
other. 

But  to-day  Deuceace  was  in  one  of  his  thundering  black 
burners  ;  and  when  in  this  way  he  wouldn't  stop  for  man  or 
devvle,  I  said  that  he  walked  away  from  the  shevalliay,  who 
had  given  him  his  hand  in  his  sudden  bust  of  joyfle  good- 
humor  ;  and  who,  I  do  bleave,  would  have  hugd  a  she-bear,  so 
very  happy  was  he.  Master  walked  away  from  him  pale  and 
hotty,  and,  taking  his  seat  at  table,  no  moor  mindid  the  brand- 
ishmentsof  Miss  Griffin,  but  only  replied  to  them  with  a  pshaw, 
or  a  dam  at  one  of  us  servnts,  or  abuse  of  the  soop,  or  the  wine  ; 
cussing  and  swearing  like  a  trooper,  and  not  like  a  wel-bred 
son  of  a  noble  British  peer. 

"Will  your  ladyship,"  says  he,  slivering  off  the  wing  of  a 
piilly  ally  bashymall,  "  allow  me  to  help  you  ?  " 

"  I  thank  you !  no  ;  but  I  will  trouble  INIonsieur  de  I'Orge." 
And  towards  that  gnlmn  she  turned,  with  a  most  tender  and 
fasnating  smile. 

"  Your  ladyship  has  taken  a  very  sudden  admiration  for  Mr. 
de  rOrge's  carving.     You  used  to  like  mine  once." 

"  You  are  very  skilful ;  but  to-day,  if  you  will  allow  me,  \ 
will  partake  of  something  a  little  simpler." 

The  Frenchman  helped  ;  and,  being  so  happy,  in  cors,  spilt 
the  gravy.  A  great  blob  of  brown  sos  spurted  on  to  master's 
chick,  and  myandrewd  down  his  shert  collar  and  virging-white 
weskit. 

"  Confound  you  !  "  says  he,  "  M.  de  I'Orge,  you  have  done 
this  on  purpose."     And  down  went  his  knife  and  fork,  over 


472  CHE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

went  his  tumbler  of  wine,  a  deal  of  it  into  poar  Miss  Grififinses 
lap,  who  looked  fritened  and  ready  to  cry. 

My  lady  bust  into  a  fit  of  laffin,  peel  upon  peel,  as  if  it  was 
the  best  joak  in  the  world.  De  I'Orge  giggled  and  grin'd  too. 
"  Pardong,"  says  he  ;  "meal  pardong,  mong  share  munseer.'"* 
And  he  looked  as  if  he  would  have  done  it  again  for  a  penny. 

The  little  Frenchman  was  quite  in  extasis ;  he  found  him- 
self all  of  a  suddn  at  the  very  top  of  the  trea ;  and  the  laff  for 
onst  turned  against  his  rivle  :  he  actially  had  the  ordassaty  to 
propose  to  my  lady  in  English  to  take  a  glass  of  wine. 

"Veal  you,"  says  he,  in  his  jargin,  "take  a  glas  of  Madere 
viz  me,  mi  ladi  ? "  And  he  looked  round,  as  if  he'd  igsackly 
hit  the  English  manner  and  pronunciation, 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  says  Lady  G.,  most  graciously 
nodding  at  him,  and  gazing  at  him  as  she  drank  up  the  wine. 
She'd  refused  master  before,  and  this  didn't  increase  his  good- 
humer. 

Well,  they  went  on,  master  snarling,  snapping,  and  swear- 
ing, making  himself,  I  must  confess,  as  much  of  a  blaggard  as 
any  I  ever  see  ;  and  my  lady  employing  iier  time  betwigst  him 
and  the  shevalliay,  doing  everythink  to  irritate  master,  and 
flatter  the  Frenchmn.  Desert  came  :  and  by  this  time.  Miss 
was  stock-still  with  fright,  the  chevaleer  half  tipsy  with  pleasure 
and  gratafied  vannaty,  my  lady  pufifickly  raygent  with  smiles 
and  master  bloo  with  rage, 

"  Mr.  Deuceace,"  says  my  lady,  in  a  most  winning  voice, 
after  a  little  chaffing  (in  which  she  only  worked  him  up  moar 
and  moar),  "  may  I  trouble  you  for  a  few  of  those  grapes  ?  they 
look  delicious." 

P'or  answer,  master  seas'd  hold  of  the  grayp  dish,  and  sent 
it  sliding  down  the  table  to  De  I'Orge  ;  upsetting,  in  his  way, 
fruit-plates,  glasses,  dickanters,  and  heaven  knows  what. 

"  Monsieur  de  I'Orge,"  says  he,  shouting  out  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  "have  the  goodness  to  help  Lady  Griffin.  She 
■wanted  my  grapes  long  ago,  and  has  found  out  they  are  sour!" 

W  -JP  -tP  tP  TT 

There  was  a  dead  paws  of  a  moment  or  so. 

^  ^  ^  TV  -Jp 

"  Ah  !  "  says  my  lady,  "  vous  osez  m'insulter,  devant  mes 
gens,  dans  ma  propre  maison — c'est  par  trop  fort,  monsieur." 
And  up  she  got,  and  flung  out  of  the  room.     Miss  followed 

*  In  tlie  long  dialogues,  we  have  generally  ventured  to  change  the   peculiar  spelling  oi 
•ur  friend  Mr.  Yellowplush. 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS.  473 

her,  screeching  out,  "  Mamma — for  God's  sake — Lady  Griffin  !  " 
and  here  the  door  slammed  on  the  pair. 

Her  ladyship  did  very  well  to  speak  French.  Dc  I'Orgi 
would  not  have  understood  her  else;  as  it  was  he  heard  quite 
enough  ;  and  as  the  door  clikt  too,  in  the  presents  of  me,  and 
Messeers  Mortimer  and  Fitzclarence,  the  family  footmen,  he 
walks  round  to  my  master,  and  hits  him  a  slap  on  the  face,  and 
says,  "  Prends  5a,  menteur  et  lache  !  "  which  means,  "  Take 
that,  you  liar  and  coward  !  " — rather  strong  igspreshns  for  one 
genlmn  to  use  to  another. 

Master  staggered  back  and  looked  bewildered  ;  and  then 
he  gave  a  kind  of  a  scream,  and  then  he  made  a  run  at  the 
Frenchman,  and  then  me  and  Mortimer  flung  ourselves  upon 
him,  whilst  Fitzclarence  embraced  the  shevalliay. 

"  A  demain  !  "  says  he,  clinching  his  little  fist,  and  walking 
away  not  very  sorry  to  git  off. 

When  he  was  fairly  down  stares,  we  let  go  of  master :  who 
swallowed  a  goblit  of  water,  and  then  pawsing  a  little  and 
pulling  out  his  pus,  he  presented  to  Messeers  Mortimer  and 
Fitzclarence  a  luydor  each.  "  I  will  give  you  five  more  to- 
morrow," says  he,  "if  you  will  promise  to  keep  this  secrit." 

And  then  he  walked  in  to  the  ladies.  "  If  you  knew,"  says 
he,  going  up  to  Lady  Griffin,  and  speaking  very  slow  (in  cors 
we  were  all  at  the  keyhole),  "  the  pain  I  have  endured  in  the 
last  minute,  in  consequence  of  the  rudeness  and  insolence  of 
which  I  have  been  guilty  to  your  ladyship,  you  would  think  my 
own  remorse  was  punishment  sufficient,  and  would  grant  me 
pardon." 

My  lady  bowed,  and  said  she  didn't  wish  for  explanations. 
Mr.  Deuceace  was  her  daughter's  guest,  and  not  hers  ;  but  she 
certainly  would  never  demean  herself  by  sitting  again  at  table 
with  him.     And  so  saying,  out  she  boltid  again. 

"Oh!  Algernon!  Algernon!"  says  Miss,  in  teers,  "what 
is  this  dreadful  mystery — these  fearful  shocking  quarrels } 
Tell  me,  has  anything  happened  ?  Where,  where  is  the  chev- 
alier ? " 

Master  smiled  and  said,  "  Be  under  no  alarm,  my  sweetest 
Matilda.  De  TOrge  did  not  understand  a  word  of  the  dispute  ; 
he  was  too  much  in  love  for  that.  He  is  but  gone  away  for 
half  an  hour,  I  believe  ;  and  will  return  to  coffee." 

I  knew  what  master's  game  was,  for  if  Miss  had  got  a 
hinkling  of  the  quarrel  betwigst  him  and  the  Frenchman,  we 
should  have  had  her  screeming  at  the  "Hotel  Mirabeu,"  and 
the  juice  and  all  to  pay.     He  only  stopt  for  a  few  minnits  and 


474         ^-^^^  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C  J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

cumfitted  her,  and  then  drove  off  to  his  friend,  Captain  Bulls- 
eye,  of  the  Rifles ;  with  whom,  I  spose,  he  talked  over  this 
unplesnt  bisniss.  We  found,  at  our  hotel,  a  note  from  De 
rOrge,  saying  where  his  secknd  was  to  be  seen. 

Two  mornings  after  there  was  a  parrowgraf  in  Gallynanny  s 
Messiiiger,  which  I  hear  beg  leaf  to  transcribe  : — 

'■'■  Fearf 7(1  duel. — Yesterday  m^-iTiinar,  at  six  o'clock,  a  meeting  took  place,  in  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne,  between  the  Hon.  A.  P.  D — ce-ce,  a  younger  son  of  the  Earl  of  Cr-bs,  and 

the  Chevalier  de  I'O .     The  chevalier  was  attended  by  Major  de  M ,  of  the  Royal 

Guard,  and  the  Hon.  Mr.  D by  Captain  B-lls-ye,  of  the  British  Rifle  Corps.     As  far 

as  we  have  been  able  to  learn  the  particulars  of  this  deplorable  affair,  the  dispute  originated 
in  the  house  of  a  lovely  lady  (one  of  the  most  brilliant  ornaments  of  the  embassy),  and  the 
duel  took  place  on  the  morning  ensuing. 

"  The  chevalier  (the  challenged  party,  and  the  most  accomplished  amateur  swordsman 
in  Paris)  waived  his  right  of  choosing  the  weapons,  and  the  combat  took  place  with  pistols. 

"The  combatants  were  placed  at  forty  paces,  with  direction  to  advance  to  a  barrier  which 
separated  them  only  eight  paces.      Each  was   furnished  with  two  pistols.      Monsieur  de 

I'O fired  almost  immediately,  and  the  ball  took  effect  in  the  left  wrist  of  his  antagonist, 

who  dropped  the  pistol  which  he  held  in  that  hand.  He  fired,  however,  directly  with  his 
right,  and  the  chevalier  fell  to  the  ground,  we  fear  mortally  wounded.  A  bail  has  entered 
above  his  hip-joint,  and  there  is  very  little  liope  that  he  can  recover. 

"  We  have  heard  that  the  cause  of  this  desperate  duel  was  a  blow  which  the  chevalier 
ventured  to  give  to  the  Hon.  Mr.  D.  If  so,  there  is  some  reason  for  the  unusual  and  deter- 
mined manner  in  wliich  the  duel  was  fought. 

"  Mr  Den — a-e  returned  to  his  hotel ;  whither  his  excellent  father,  the  Right  Hon. 
Earl  of  Cr-bs,  immediately  hastened  on  hearing  of  the  sad  news,  and  is  now  bestowing  on 
his  son  the  most  affectionate  parental  attention.  The  news  only  reached  his  lordship  yes- 
terday at  noon,  while  at  breakfast  with  his  Excellency  Lord  Bobtail,  our  ambassador.  The 
noble  earl  fainted  on  receiving  the  intelligence  ;  but  in  spite  of  the  shock  to  his  own  nerves 
and  health,  persisted  in  passing  last  night  by  the  couch  of  his  son." 

And  so  he  did.  "  This  is  a  sad  business,  Charles,"  says  my 
lord  to  me,  after  seeing  his  son,  and  settling  himself  down  in 
our  salong.  "  Have  you  any  segars  in  the  house  .''  And,  hark 
ye,  send  me  up  a  bottle  of  wine  and  some  luncheon.  I  can 
certainly  not  leave  the  neighborhood  of  my  dear  boy." 


Chap.  VII. — The  Consquinsies. 

The  shevalliay  did  not  die,  for  the  ball  came  out  of  its  own 
accord,  in  the  midst  of  a  violent  fever  and  inflamayshn  which 
was  brot  on  by  the  wound.  He  was  kept  in  bed  for  six  weeks 
though,  and  did  not  recover  for  a  long  time  after. 

As  for  master,  his  lot,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  was  wuss  than  that 
of  his  advisaiy.  Inflammation  came  on  too  ;  and,  to  make  an 
ugly  story  short,  they  were  obliged  to  take  off  his  hand  at  the 
rist. 

He  bore  it,  in  cors,  like  a  Trojin,  and  in  a  month  he  too 
was  well,  and  his  wound  heel'd  ;  but  I  never  see  a  man  look  so 
like  a  devvle  as  he  used  sometimes,  when  he  looked  down  at 
the  stump  ! 

To  be  sure,  in  Miss  Griffinses  eyes,  this  only  indeerd  hirrt 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS. 


475 


the  mor.  She  sent  twenty  noats  a  day  to  ask  for  him,  calling 
him  her  beloved,  her  unfortunat,  her  hero,  her  wictim,  and  I 
dono  what.  I've  kep  some  of  the  noats  as  I  tell  you,  and 
curiously  sentimentle  they  are,  beating  the  sorrows  of  Mac- 
Whirter  all  to  nothing. 

Old  Crabs  used  to  come  offen,  and  consumed  a  power  of 
wine  and  seagars  at  our  house.  I  bleave  he  was  at  Paris 
because  there  was  an  exycution  in  his  own  house  in  England  ; 
and  his  son  was  a  sure  find  (as  they  say)  during  his  illness,  and 
couldn't  deny  himself  to  the  old  genlmn.  His  eveninx  my  lord 
spent  reglar  at  Lady  Griffin's  ;  where,  as  master  was  ill,  I  didn't 
go  any  more  now,  and  where  the  shevalier  wasn't  there  to 
disturb  him. 

"  You  see  how  that  woman  hates  j^ou,  Deuceace,"  says  my 
Lord,  one  day,  in  a  fit  of  cander,  after  they  had  been  talking 
about  Lady  Griffin  :  "  she  has  not  done  with  you  yet,  I  tell  you 
fairly." 

"  Curse  her,"  says  master,  in  a  fur}^,  lifting  up  his  maim'd 
arm — "  curse  her  !  but  I  will  be  even  with  her  one  day.  I  am 
sure  of  Matilda  :  I  took  care  to  put  that  beyond  the  reach  of  a 
failure.     The  girl  must  marr)'  me,  for  her  own  sake." 

"For  her  own  sake !  O  ho  !  Good,  good  !  "  My  lord  lifted 
his  i's,  and  said  gravely,  "  I  understand,  my  dear  boy  :  it  is  an 
excellent  plan." 

"  Well,"  says  master,  grinning  fearcely  and  knowingly  at  his 
exlent  old  father,  "  as  the  girl  is  safe,  what  harm  can  I  fear 
from  the  fiend  of  a  step-mother  ?  " 

My  lord  only  gav  a  long  whizzle,  and,  soon  after,  taking  up 
his  hat,  walked  off.  I  saw  him  sawnter  down  the  Plas  Van- 
dome,  and  go  in  quite  calmly  to  the  old  door  of  Lady  Griffinses 
hotel.  Bless  his  old  face  !  such  a  puffickly  good-natured,  kind- 
hearted,  merry,  selfish  old  scoundrel,  I  never  shall  see  again. 

His  lordship  was  quite  right  in  saying  to  master  that  "Lady 
Griffin  hadn't  done  with  him."  No  moar  she  had.  But 
she  never  would  have  thought  of  the  nex  game  she  was  going 
to  play,  if  somebody  hadn't  put  her  up  to  it.  Who  did  ?  If  you 
red  the  above  passidge,  and  saw  how  a  venrabble  old  genlmn 
took  his  hat,  and  sauntered  down  the  Plas  Vandome  (looking 
hard  and  kind  at  all  the  nussary-maids — buns  they  call  them  in 
France — in  the  way),  I  leave  you  to  guess  who  was  the  author 
of  the  nex  scheam :  a  woman,  suttnly,  never  would  have  pitcht 
on  it. 

In  the  fuss  payper  which  I  wrote  concerning  Mr.  Deuce* 
ace's  adventers,   and  his  kind  behayvior  to  Messrs.  Dawkinf 


(^76         TIFE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

and  Blewitt,  I   had  the  honor  of   laying  before  the  public  a 
skidewl  of  my  master's  detts,  in  which  was  the  following  itim  : 

"  Bills  of  xchange  and  I.O.U.'s,  4963/.  os.  od. 

The  I.O.U.se  were  trifling,  say  a  thowsnd  pound.  The  bills 
amountid  to  four  thowsnd  moar. 

Now,  the  lor  is  in  France,  that  if  a  genlmn  gives  these  in 
England,  and  a  French  genlmn  gits  them  in  any  way,  he  can 
pursew  the  Englishman  who  has  drawn  them,  even  though  he 
should  be  in  France.  Master  did  not  know  this  fact — laboring 
under  a  very  common  mistak,  that,  when  onst  out  of  England, 
he  might  wissle  at  all  the  debts  he  left  behind  him. 

My  Lady  Griffin  sent  over  to  her  slissators  in  London,  who 
made  arrangemints  with  the  persons  who  possest  the  fine  col- 
lection of  ortografs  on  stampt  paper  which  master  had  left 
behind  him  ;  and  they  were  glad  enuff  to  take  any  oppertunity 
of  getting  back  their  money. 

One  fine  morning,  as  I  was  looking  about  in  the  court-yard 
of  our  hotel,  talking  to  the  servant  gals,  as  was  my  reglar  cus- 
tom, in  order  to  improve  myself  in  the  French  languidge,  one  of 
them  comes  up  to  me  and  says,  "  Tenez,  Monsieur  Charles, 
down  below  in  the  office  there  is  a  bailiff,  with  a  couple  of 
gendarmes,  who  is  asking  for  your  master — a-t-il  des  dettes  par 
hasard .'' " 

I  was  struck  all  of  a  heap — the  truth  flasht  on  my  mind's  hi. 
"Toinette,"  says  I,  for  that  was  the  gal's  name — "Toinette," 
says  I,  giving  her  a  kiss,  "  keep  them  for  two  minnits,  as  you 
valyou  my  affeckshn  ;"  and  then  I  gave  her  another  kiss,  and 
ran  up  stares  to  our  chambers.  Master  had  now  pretty  well 
recovered  of  his  wound,  and  was  aloud  to  drive  abowt :  it  was 
lucky  for  him  that  he  had  the  strength  to  move.  "  Sir,  sir," 
says  I,  "  the  bailiffs  are  after  you,  and  you  must  run  for  your 
life." 

"  Bailiffs  ?  "  says  he  :  "  nonsense  !  I  don't,  thank  heaven, 
owe  a  shilling  to  any  man." 

"  Stuff,  sir,"  says  I,  forgetting  my  respeck  ;  "don't  you  owe 
money  in  England  t  I  tell  you  the  bailiffs  are  here,  and  will 
be  on  you  in  a  moment." 

As  I  spoke,  cling  cling,  ling  ling,  goes  the  bell  of  the  anty- 
shamber,  and  there  they  were  sure  enough  ! 

What  was  to  be  done.?  Quick  as  litening,  I  throws  off  my 
livry  coat,  claps  my  goold  lace  hat  on  master's  head,  and  makes 
him  put  on  my  livry.  Then  I  wraps  myself  up  in  his  dressing- 
gown,  and  lolling  down  on  the  sofa,  bids  him  open  the  door. 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS. 


477 


There  they  were — the  bailiff — two  jondarms  with  him — • 
Toinette,  and  an  old  waiter.  When  Toinette  sees  master,  she 
smiles,  and  says  :  "Dis  done,  Charles  !  ou  est  done  ton  maitre? 
Chez  lui,  n'est-ce  pas?  C'est  le  jeune  homme  a  monsieur," 
says  she,  curtsying  to  the  bailiff. 

The  old  waiter  was  just  a-going  to  blurt  out,  "  Mais  ce  n'est 
pas  !  "  when  Toinette  stops  him,  and  says,  "  Laissez  done  passer 
ces  messieurs,  vieux  bete  ;"  and  in  they  walk,  the  2  jon  d'arms 
taking  their  post  in  the  hall. 

Master  throws  open  the  salong  doar  very  gravely,  and 
touching  my  hat  says,  "  Have  you  any  orders  about  the  cab, 
sir  ?  " 

"Why,  no,  Chawls,"  says  I  ;  "I  sha'n't  drive  out  to-day." 

The  old  bailiff"  grinned,  for  he  understood  English  (having 
had  plenty  of  English  customers),  and  says  in  French,  as  master 
goes  out,  "  I  think,  sir,  you  had  better  let  your  servant  get  a 
coach,  for  I  am  under  the  painful  necessity  of  arresting  you,  au 
nom  de  la  loi,  for  the  sum  of  ninety-eight  thousand  seven  hun- 
dred francs,  owed  by  you  to  the  Sieur  Jacques  Fran9ois  Lebrun, 
of  Paris ; "  and  he  pulls  out  a  number  of  bills,  with  master's 
acceptance  on  them  sure  enough. 

"  Take  a  chair,  sir,"  says  I ;  and  down  he  sits ;  and  I  began 
to  chaff  him,  as  well  as  I  could,  about  the  weather,  my  illness, 
my  sad  axdent,  having  lost  one  of  my  hands,  which  was  stuck 
into  my  busum,  and  so  on. 

At  last  after  a  minnit  or  two,  I  could  contane  no  longer,  and 
bust  out  in  a  horse  laff. 

The  old  fellow  turned  quite  pail,  and  began  to  suspect  some- 
thing. "  Hola  !  "  says  he  ;  "  gendarmes  !  a  moi  !  a  moi !  Je  suis 
floue',  vole,"  which  means,  in  English,  that  he  was  regular  sold. 

The  jondarmes  jumped  into  the  room,  and  so  did  Toinette 
and  the  waiter.  Grasefly  rising  from  my  arm-chare,  I  took  my 
hand  from  my  dressing-gownd,  and,  flinging  it  open,  stuck  up 
on  the  chair  one  of  the  neatest  legs  ever  seen. 

I  then  pinted  myjestickly — to  what  do  you  think  ? — to  my 
PLUSH  TiTES !  those  sellabrated  inigspressables  which  have 
rendered  me  famous  in  Yourope. 

Taking  the  hint,  the  jondarmes  and  the  servnts  rotd  out 
lafifing  ;  and  so  did  Charles  Yellowplush,  Esquire,  I  can  tell 
you.  Old  Grippard  the  bailiff  looked  as  if  he  would  faint  in  his 
chare. 

I  heard  a  kab  galloping  like  mad  out  of  the  hotel  gate,  and 
knew  then  that  my  master  was  safe, 

31 


478         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 


Chap.  VIII. — The  End  of  Mr.  Deuceace's  History.    Limbo. 

My  tail  is  droring  rabidly  to  a  close  :  my  suvvice  with  Mr. 
Deuceace  didn't  continyou  very  long  after  the  last  chapter,  in 
which  I  described  my  admiral  strattyjam,  and  my  singular  self' 
devocean.  There's  very  few  servnts,  I  can  tell  you,  who'd  have 
thought  of  such  a  contrivance,  and  very  few  moar  would  have 
eggsycuted  it  when  thought  of. 

But,  after  all,  beyond  the  trifling  advantich  to  myself  in  sell- 
ing master's  roab  de  sham,  which  you,  gentle  reader,  may  re- 
member  I  woar,  and  in  dixcovering  a  fipun  note  in  one  of  the 
pockets, — beyond  this,  I  say,  there  was  to  poar  master  very 
little  advantich  in  what  had  been  done.  It's  true  he  had 
escaped.  Very  good.  But  Frans  is  not  like  Great  Brittin  ;  a 
man  in  a  livry  coat,  with  i  arm,  is  pretty  easly  known,  and 
caught,  too,  as  I  can  tell  you. 

Such  was  the  case  with  master.  He  coodn  leave  Paris, 
moarover,  if  he  would.  What  was  to  become,  in  that  case,  of 
his  bride — his  unchbacked  hairis  ?  He  knew  that  young  lady's 
tetiiprimong  (as  the  Parishers  say)  too  well  to  let  her  long  out  of 
his  site.  She  had  nine  thousand  a  yer.  She'd  been  in  love  a 
duzn  times  befor,  and  mite  be  agin.  The  Honrabble  Algernon 
Deuceace  was  a  little  too  wide  awake  to  trust  much  to  the  con- 
stnsy  of  so  very  inflammable  a  young  creacher.  Heaven  bless 
us,  it  was  a  marycle  she  wasn't  earlier  married  !  I  do  bleave 
(from  suttn  seans  that  past  betwigst  us)  that  she'd  have  jnarried 
•«ie,  if  she  hadn't  been  sejuiced  by  the  supearor  rank  and  in- 
dianuity  of  the  genlmn  in  whose  survace  I  was. 

Well,  to  use  a  commin  igspreshn,  the  beaks  were  after  him. 
•flow  was  he  to  manitch  t  He  coodn  get  away  from  his  debts, 
•md  he  wooden  quit  the  fare  objict  of  his  affeckshns.  He  was 
<iibleejd,  then,  as  the  French  say,  to  lie  perdew, — going  out  at 
night,  like  a  howl  out  of  a  hivy-bush,  and  returning  in  the  day- 
time to  his  roast.  For  its  a  maxum  in  France  (  and  I  wood  it 
were  followed  in  Ingland),  that  after  dark  no  man  is  lible  for 
his  detts;  and  in  any  of  the  royal  gardens — the  Twillaries,  the 
Palldy  Roil,  or  the  Lucksimbug,  for  example — a  man  may  wan 
der  from  sunrise  to  evening,  and  hear  nothing  of  the  ojus 
dunns  :  they  an't  admitted  into  these  places  of  public  enjyment 
and  rondy  voo  any  more  than  dogs  ;  the  centuries  at  the  garden 
gate  having  orders  to  shuit  all  such. 

Master,   then,   was  in  this  uncomfrable  situation — neithef 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS.  479 

liking  to  go  nor  to  stay !  peeping  out  at  nights  to  have  an  in- 
terview with  his  miss  ;  ableagd  to  shuffle  off  her  repeated  ques- 
tions as  to  the  reason  of  all  this  disgeise,  and  to  talk  of  his  two 
thowsnd  a  year  jest  as  if  he  had  it  and  didn't  owe  a  shilling  in 
the  world. 

Of  course,  now,  he  began  to  grow  mighty  eager  for  the 
marritch. 

He  roat  as  many  noats  as  she  had  done  befor  ;  swoar 
against  delay  and  cerymony  ;  talked  of  the  pleasures  of  Hyming, 
the  ardship  that  the  ardor  of  two  arts  should  be  allowed  to 
igspire,  the  folly  of  waiting  for  the  consent  of  Lady  GrifSn.  She 
was  but  a  step-mother,  and  an  unkind  one.  Miss  was  (he  said) 
a  major,  might  marry  whom  she  liked  ;  and  suttnly  had  paid 
Lady  G.  quite  as  much  attention  as  she  ought,  by  paying  her 
the  compliment  to  ask  her  at  all. 

And  so  they  went  on.  The  curious  thing  was,  that  when 
master  was  pressed  about  his  cause  for  not  coming  out  till  night- 
time, he  was  misterus  ;  and  Miss  Grifhn,  when  asked  why  she 
wooden  marry,  igsprest,  or  rather,  didii't  igspress,  a  simlar 
secrasy.  Wasn't  it  hard  ?  the  cup  seemed  to  be  at  the  lip  of 
both  of  'em,  and  yet  somehow,  they  could  not  manitch  to  take 
a  drink. 

But  one  morning,  in  reply  to  a  most  desprat  epistol  wrote 
by  my  master  over  night,  Deuceace,  delighted,  gits  an  answer 
from  his  soal's  beluffd,  which  ran  thus  : — 

MISS  GRIFFIN  TO  THE  HON.  A.  P.  DEUCEACE. 

"Dearest,— You  say  you  would  share  a  cottage  with  me  ;  there  is  no  need,  luckily,  for 
that!  You  plead  the  sad  sinking  of  your  spirits  at  our  delayed  union.  Beloved,  do  you 
think  vty  heart  rejoices  at  our  separation  ?  You  bid  me  disregard  the  refusal  of  Lady 
Griffin,  and  tell  me  that  I  owe  her  no  further  duty. 

"  Adored  Algernon!  I  can  refuse  you  no  more.  I  was  willing  not  to  lose  a  single  chance 
of  reconciliation  with  this  unnatural  step-mother.  Respect  for  the  memory  of  my  sainted 
father  bid  me  do  ail  in  my  power  to  gain  her  consent  to  my  union  with  you  ;  nay,  shall  I 
own  it?  prudence  dictated  the  measure  ;  for  to  whom  should  she  leave  the  share  of  money 
accorded  to  her  by  mv  father's  will  but  to  my  father's  child. 

"  But  there  are  bounds  beyond  which  no  forbearance  can  go  ;  and,  thank  heaven,  we 
have  no  need  of  looking  to  Lady  Griffin  for  sordid  wealth  :  we  have  a  competency  with- 
out her.     Is  it  not  so.  dearest  Algernon?  •  ,,    ■ 

"  Be  it  as  you  wish  then,  dearest,  bravest,  and  best.  Your  poor  Matilda  has  yielded  to 
rou  her  heart  long  aso  ;  she  has  no  longer  need  to  keep  back  her  name.  Name  the  hour, 
»nd  I  will  delay  no  more  ;  but  seek  for'refuge  in  your  arms  from  the  contumely  and  insult 
which  meet  me  ever  here. 

"  Matilda. 

"P.S.  Oh,  Algernon!  if  vou  did  but  know  what  a  noble  part  your  dear  father  has 
acted  throughout,  in  doing  his  best  endeavors  to  further  our  plans,  and  to  soften  Lady 
Griffin  I  li  is  not  his  fault  that  she  is  inexorable  as  she  is.  1  send  you  a  note  sent  by  her 
to  Lord  Crabs ;  we  will  laugh  at  it  soon,  n'cst-cc  pas  ?  " 

II. 
*  My  Lord,— In   reply  to  your  demand  for  Miss  Griffin's  hand,  in  favor  of  your  son 


48o        THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace,  I  can  only  repeat  what  I  before  have  been  under  the  necessity  of 
stating  til  you, — that  I  do  not  believe  a  union  with  a  person  of  Mr.  Deuceace's  character 
would  conduce  to  my  step-daughter's  happiness,  ajid  therefore  refuse  my  consent.  I  will 
beg  you  to  communicate  the  contents  of  this  note  to  Mr.  Deuceace;  and  implore  you  no 
more  to  touch  upon  a  subject  which  you  must  be  aware  is  deeply  painful  to  me. 

"  I  remain  your  lordship's  most  humble  servant, 

"  L.  E.  Griffin. 
"  TIu  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Crabs." 

"  Hang  her  ladyship  !  "  says  my  master,  "  what  care  I  for 
it  ?  "  As  for  the  old  lord  who'd  been  so  afishous  in  his  kind- 
ness and  advice,  master  recknsiled  that  pretty  well,  with  think- 
ing that  his  lordship  knew  he  was  going  to  marry  ten  thousand 
a  year,  and  igspected  to  get  some  share  of  it ;  for  he  roat 
back  the  following  letter  to  his  father,  as  well  as  a  flaming  one 
to  Miss  : 

"Thank  you,  my  dear  father,  for  your  kindness  in  that  awkward  business.  You  kno* 
how  pamfully  I  am  situated  just  now,  and  can  pretty  well  guess  iot/t  the  causes  cf  my  dis« 
quiet.  A  marriage  with  my  beloved  Matilda  will  make  me  the  happiest  of  men.  The  dear 
girl  consents,  and  laughs  at  the  foolish  pretensions  of  her  mother-in-law.  To  tell  you  die  truth, 
I  wonder  she  yielded  to  them  so  long.  Carry  your  kindness  a  step  further,  and  find  for  us 
a  parson,  a  licence,  and  make  us  two  into  one.  We  are  both  major,  you  know  :  so  that  the 
ceremony  of  a  guardian's  consent  is  unnecessary. 

"  Your  affectionate 

"  Algernon  Deuceace. 

"  How  I  regret  that  difference  between  us  some  time  back !     Matters  are  changed  now, 
and  shall  be  more  still  after  the  marriage" 

I  knew  what  my  master  meant, — that  he  would  give  the  old 
lord  the  money  after  he  was  married  ;  and  as  it  was  probble 
that  miss  would  see  the  letter  he  roat,  he  made  it  such  as  not 
to  let  her  see  two  clearly  into  his  present  uncomfrable  situation. 

I  took  this  letter  along  with  the  tender  one  for  Miss,  read- 
ing both  of  'em,  in  course,  by  the  way.  Miss,  on  getting  hers, 
gave  an  inegspressable  look  with  the  white  of  her  i's,  kist  the 
letter,  and  prest  it  to  her  busm.  Lord  Crabs  read  his  quite 
calm,  and  then  they  fell  a-talking  together  ;  and  told  me  to 
wait  awhile,  and  I  should  git  an  anser. 

After  a  deal  of  counsel tation,  my  lord  brought  out  a  card, 
and  there  was  simply  written  on  it, 


To-morrow,  at  the  A  mbassador^s,  at  Twelve. 


*'  Carry  that  back  to  your  master,  Chawls,"  says  he,  "  and 
bid  him  not  to  fail." 

You  may  be  sure  I  stept  back  to  him  pretty  quick,  and  gave 
him  the  card  and  the  messinre.     Master  looked  sattasfied  with 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS.  48 1 

both  ;  but  suttnly  not  over  happy  ;  no  man  is  the  day  before 
his  marridge ;  much  more  his  marridge  with  a  hump-back, 
Harriss  though  she  be. 

Well,  as  he  was  a-going  to  depart  this  bachelor  life,  he  did 
what  every  man  in  such  suckmstances  ought  to  do ;  he  made 
his  will, — that  is,  he  made  a  dispasition  of  his  property,  and 
wrote  letters  to  his  creditors  telling  them  of  his  lucky  chance  ; 
and  that  after  his  marridge  he  would  sutnly  pay  them  every 
stiver.  Before,  they  must  know  his  povvaty  well  enough  to  be 
sure  that  paymint  was  out  of  the  question. 

To  do  him  justas,  he  seam'd  to  be  inclined  to  do  the  thing 
that  was  right,  now  that  it  didn't  put  him  to  any  inkinvenienta 
to  do  so. 

"  Chawls,"  says  he,  handing  me  over  a  tenpun-note,  "  here's 
your  wagis,  and  thank  you  for  getting  me  out  of  the  scrape  with 
the  bailiffs  :  when  you  are  married,  you  shall  be  my  valet  out  of 
liv'ry,  and  I'll  treble  your  salary." 

His  valit !  praps  his  butler !  Yes,  thought  I,  here's  a  chance 
—a  valit  to  ten  thousand  a  year.  Nothing  to  do  but  to  shave 
him,  and  read  his  notes,  and  let  my  whiskers  grow  ;  to  dress  in 
spick  and  span  black,  and  a  clean  shut  per  day ;  muffings  every 
night  in  the  housekeeper's  room  ;  the  pick  of  the  gals  in  the 
servants'  hall ;  a  chap  to  clean  my  boots  for  me,  and  my  master's 
opera  bone  reglar  once  a  week,  /  knew  what  a  valit  was  as 
well  as  any  genlmn  in  service  ;  and  this  I  can  tell  you,  he's 
genrally  a  hapier,  idler,  handsomer,  mor  genlmnly  man  than  his 
master.  He  has  more  money  to  spend,  for  genlmn  will  leave 
their  silver  in  their  waiscoat  pockets  ;  more  suxess  among  the 
gals ;  as  good  dinners,  and  as  good  wine  —  that  is,  if  he's 
friends  with  the  butler  :  and  friends  in  corse  they  will  be  if  they 
know  which  way  their  interest  lies. 

But  these  are  only  cassels  in  the  air,  what  the  French  call 
shutter  cfEspang.  It  wasn't  roat  in  the  book  of  fate  that  I  was 
to  be  Mr.  Deuceace's  vallit. 

Days  will  pass  at  last — even  days  befor  a  wedding  (the 
longist  and  unpleasantist  day  in  the  whole  of  a  man's  life,  I 
can  tell  you,  excep,  maybe,  the  day  before  his  hanging)  ;  and 
at  length  Aroarer  dawned  on  the  suspicious  morning  which  was 
to  unite  in  the  bonds  of  Hyming  the  Honrable  Algernon  Percy 
Deuceace,  Exquire,  and  Miss  Matilda  Grififin.  My  master's 
wardrobe  wasn't  so  rich  as  it  had  been;  for  he'd  left  the  whole 
of  his  nicknax  and  trumpry  of  dressing-cases  and  rob  dy  shams, 
his  bewtifle  museum  of  varnished  boots,  his  curous  colleckshu 
pf  Stulz  and  Staub  coats,  when  he  had  been  ableaged  to  qu^t 

5? 


482         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.   YELLOIVPLUSH. 

SO  sudnly  our  pore  dear  lodginx  at  the  Hotel  Mirabew  ;  and 
being  incog  at  a  friend's  house^  and  contentid  himself  with 
ordring  a  coople  of  shoots  of  cloves  from  a  common  tailor,  with 
a  sufifishnt  quantaty  of  linning. 

Well,  he  put  on  the  best  of  his  coats — a  blue  ;  and  I  thought 
it  my  duty  to  ask  him  whether  he'd  want  his  frock  again  :  he 
was  good-natured  and  said,  "  Take  it  and  be  hanged  to  you." 
Half-past  eleven  o'clock  came,  and  I  was  sent  to  look  out  at 
the  door,  if  there  were  any  suspicious  charicters  (a  precious 
good  nose  I  have  to  find  a  bailifif  out,  I  can  tell  you,  and  an  i 
which  will  almost  see  one  round  a  corner)  ;  and  presenly  a  very 
modest  green  glass  coach  droave  up,  and  in  master  stept,  I 
didn't,  in  corse,  appear  on  the  box  ;  because,  being  known,  my 
appearints  might  have  compromised  master.  But  I  took  a  short 
cut,  and  walked  as  quick  as  posbil  down  to  the  Rue  de  Foburg 
St.  Honore,  where  his  exlnsy  the  English  ambasdor  lives,  and 
where  marridges  are  always  performed  betwigst  English  folk  at 

Paris. 

*  *  *  *  * 

There  is,  almost  nex  door  to  the  ambasdor's  hotel,  another 
hotel,  of  that  lo  kind  which  the  French  call  cabbyrays,  or  wine- 
houses  ;  and  jest  as  roaster's  green  glass  coach  pulled  up,  an- 
other coach  drove  off,  out  of  which  came  two  ladies,  whom  I 
knew  pretty  well, — suffiz,  that  one  had  a  humpback,  and  the  in- 
genious reader  will  know  why  she  came  there ;  the  other  was 
poor  Miss  Kicksey,  who  came  to  see  her  turned  off. 

Well,  master's  glass  coach  droav  up,  jest  as  I  got  within  a 
few  yards  of  the  door  ;  our  carridge,  I  say,  droav  up,  and  stopt. 
Down  gets  coachmin  to  open  the  door,  and  comes  I  to  give  Mr. 
jjeuceace  an  arm,  when — out  of  the  cabaray  shoot  four  fellows, 
and  draw  up  betwigst  the  coach  and  embassy  doar ;  two  other 
chaps  go  to  the  other  doar  of  the  carridge,  and,  opening  it,  one 
says — "  Rendezvous,  M.  Deuceace  !  Je  avous  arrete  au  nom  de 
laloi !  "  (which  means,  "  Get  out  of  that,  Mr.  D.,  you  are  nabbed, 
and  no  mistake.")  Master  turned  gashly  pail,  and  sprung  to 
the  other  side  of  the  coach,  as  if  a  serpint  had  stung  him.  He 
flung  open  the  door,  and  was  for  making  off  that  way  ;  but  he 
saw  the  four  chaps  standing  betwigst  libbarty  and  him.  He 
slams  down  the  front  window,  and  screams  out,  "  Fouettez, 
cocher  !  "  (which  means,  "Go  it,  coachmin  !  ")  in  adespert  loud 
voice  ;  but  coachmin  wooden  go  it,  and  besides  was  off  his  box. 

The  long  and  short  of  the  matter  was,  that  jest  as  I  came 
up  to  the  door  two  of  the  bums  jumped  into  the  carridge.  I 
saw  all ;  I  knew  my  duty,  and  so  very  mornfly  I  got  up  behind. 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS. 


4?3 


**  Tiens,"  says  one  of  the  chaps  in  the  street ;  "  c'est  ce 
drole  qui  nous  a  floue  I'autre  jour."  I  knew  'em,  but  was  too 
melumcolly  to  smile. 

"Ou  irons-nous  done?"  says  coachmin  to  thegenlmn  who 
had  got  inside. 

A  deep  woice  from  the  intearor  shouted  out  in  reply  to  the 

coachmin,  "  A  Sainte  Pelagie  !  " 

***** 

And  now,  praps,  I  ot  to  dixcribe  to  you  the  humors  of  the 
prizn  of  Sainte  Pelagie,  which  is  the  French  for  Fleat,  or 
Queen's  Bentch :  but  on  this  subject  I'm  rather  shy  of  writing, 
partly  because  the  admiral  Boz  has,  in  the  history  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, made  such  a  dixcripshun  of  a  prizn,  that  mine  wooden 
read  very  amyousingly  afterwids  ;  and,  also,  because,  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  didn't  stay  long  in  it,  being  not  in  a  humer  to  waist 
my  igsistance  by  passing  away  the  ears  of  my  youth  in  such  a 
dull  place. 

My  fust  errint  now  was,  as  you  may  phansy,  to  carry  a  noat 
from  master  to  his  destined  bride.  The  poar  thing  was  sadly 
taken  aback,  as  I  can  tell  you,  when  she  found,  after  remaining 
two  hours  at  the  Embassy,  that  her  husband  didn't  make  his 
appearance.  And  so,  after  staying  on  and  on,  and  yet  seeing 
no  husband,  she  was  forsed  at  last  to  trudge  dishconslit  home, 
where  I  was  already  waiting  for  her  with  a  letter  from  my 
master.  • 

There  was  no  use  now  denying  the  fact  of  his  arrest,  and  so 
he  confest  it  at  oust ;  but  he  made  a  cock-and-bull  story  of 
treachery  of  a  friend,  infimous  fodgery,  and  heaven  knows  what. 
However,  it  didn't  matter  much  ;  if  he  had  told  her  that  he 
had  been  betrayed  by  the  man  in  the  moon,  she  would  have 
bleavd  him. 

Lady  Grififin  never  used  to  appear  now  at  any  of  my  visits. 
She  kep  one  drawing-room,  and  Miss  dined  and  lived  alone  in 
another ;  they  quarld  so  much  that  praps  it  was  best  they  should 
live  apart  ;  only  my  Lord  Crabs  used  to  see  both,  comforting 
each  with  that  winning  and  innsnt  way  he  had.  He  came  in  as 
Miss,  in  tears,  was  lisning  to  my  account  of  master's  seazure,  and 
hoping  that  the  prisn  wasn't  a  horrid  place,  with  a  nasty  horrid 
dunjeon,  and  a  dreadfle  jailer,  and  nasty  horrid  bread  and 
water.  Law  bless  us  !  she  had  borrod  her  ideers  from  the 
novvles  she  had  been  reading ! 

" O  my  lord,  my  lord,"  says  she,  "have  you  heard  this  fatal 
story  ? " 

"  Dearest  Matilda,  what  ?     For  heaven's  sake,  you  alarw 


484        THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C  J.   YELLOWPLUSU. 

me  !  What — yes — no — is  it — no,  it  can't  be  !  Speak  ! "  says 
my  lord,  seizing  me  by  the  choler  of  my  coat.  "  What  has 
happened  to  my  boy  ? " 

"Please  you,  my  lord,"  says  I,  "he's  at  this  moment  in 
prisn,  no  wuss, — having  been  incarserated  about  two  hours 
ago." 

"  In  prison  !  Algernon  in  prison  !  'tis  impossible  !  Im- 
prisoned, for  what  sum  ?  Mention  it,  and  I  will  pay  to  the 
utmost  farthing  in  my  power." 

"  I'm  sure  your  lordship  is  very  kind,"  says  I  (recklecting 
the  sean  betwixgst  him  and  master,  whom  he  wanted  to  diddil 
out  of  a  thowsand  lb.) ;  "  and  you'll  be  happy  to  hear  he's  only 
in  for  a  trifle.  Five  thousand  pound  is,  I  think,  pretty  near  the 
mark." 

"  Five  thousand  pounds  ! — confusion  !  "  says  my  lord,  clasp- 
ing his  hands,  and  looking  up  to  heaven,  "  and  I  have  not 
five  hundred  !     Dearest  Matilda,  how  shall  we  help  him .''  " 

"  Alas,  my  lord,  I  have  but  three  guineas,  and  you  know 
how  Lady  Griffin  has  the " 

"  Yes,  my  sweet  child,  I  know  what  you  would  say ;  but 
be  of  good  cheer — Algernon,  you  know,  has  ample  funds  of 
his  own." 

Thinking  my  lord  meant  Dawkins'  five  thousand,  of  which, 
to  be  sure,  a  good  lump  was  left,  I  held  my  tung  ;  but  I  cooden 
help  wondering -at  Lord  Crabs'  igstream  compashn  for  his  son, 
and  Miss,  with  her  10,000/.  a  year,  having  only  3  guineas  in 
her  pockit. 

I  took  home  (bless  us,  what  a  home  ?)  a  long  and  very  in- 
flamble  letter  from  Miss,  in  which  she  dixscribed  her  own 
sorror  at  the  disappointment ;  swoar  she  lov'd  him  only  the 
moar  for  his  misfortuns  ;  made  light  of  them  :  as  a  pusson  for 
a  paltry  sum  of  five  thousand  pound  ought  never  to  be  cast 
down,  'specially  as  he  had  a  certain  independence  in  view ;  and 
vowed  that  nothing,  nothing,  should  ever  injuice  her  to  part 
from  him,  etsettler,  etsettler. 

I  told  master  of  the  conversation  which  had  past  betwigst 
me  and  my  lord,  and  of  his  handsome  offers,  and  his  borrow 
at  hearing  of  his  son's  being  taken  :  and  likewise  mentioned 
how  strange  it  was  that  Miss  should  only  have  3  guineas,  and 
with  such  a  fortn  :  bless  us,  I  should  have  thot  that  she  would 
always  have  carried  a  hundred  thowsand  lb.  in  her  pockit ! 

At  this  master  o»ly  said  Pshaw !  But  the  rest  of  the  story 
about  his  father  seemed  to  dixquiet  him  a  good  deal,  and  he 
made  me  repeat  it  over  agin. 


MR.  DEUCRACE  AT  PARIS.  ^g^ 

tte  walked  up  and  down  the  room  agytated,  and  it  seam'd 
as  if  a  new  lite  was  breaking  in  upon  him. 

"  Chawls,"  says  he,  did  you  observe — did  Miss — did  my 
father  s&em  particularly  intifnate  with  Miss  Griffin  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Did  Lord  Crabs  appear  very  fond  of  Miss  Griffin  ?  " 

"  He  was  suttnly  very  kind  to  her." 

"  Come,  sir,  speak  at  once  :  did  Miss  Griffin  seem  very  fond 
of  his  lordship  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  tell  the  truth,  sir,  I  must  say  she  seemed  very  fond 
of  him." 

'•  What  did  he  call  her  ?  " 

"  He  called  her  his  dearest  gal." 

"  Did  he  take  her  hand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  he — " 

"  And  he  what }  " 

"  He  kist  her,  and  told  her  not  to  be  so  wery  down-hearted 
about  the  misfortn  which  had  hapnd  to  you." 

"  I  have  it  now !  "  says  he,  clinching  his  fist,  and  growing 
gashly  pail — "  I  have  it  now — the  infernal  old  hoary  scoundrel  ! 
the  wicked,  unnatural  wretch  !  He  would  take  her  from  me  !  " 
And  he  poured  out  a  volley  of  oaves  which  are  impossbill  to  be 
repeatid  here. 

I  thot  as  much  long  ago  :  and  when  my  lord  kem  with  his 
vizits  so  pretious  afifeckshnt  at  my  Lady  Griffinses,  I  expected 
some  such  game  was  in  the  wind.  Indeed,  I'd  heard  a  some- 
think  of  it  from  the  Griffinses  servnts,  that  my  lord  was  mighty 
tender  with  the  ladies. 

One  thing,  however,  was  evident  to  a  man  of  his  intleckshal 
capassaties  ;  he  must  either  marry  the  gal  at  onst,  or  he  stood 
very  small  chance  of  having  her.  He  must  get  out  of  limbo 
immediantly,  or  his  respectid  father  might  be  stepping  into  his 
vaykint  shoes.  Oh  !  he  saw  it  all  now — the  fust  attempt  at  arest, 
the  marridge  fixtat  12  o'clock,  and  the  baylififs  fixt  to  come  and 
intarup  the  marridge  ! — the  jewel,  praps,  betwigst  him  and  De 
rOrge  :  but  no,  it  was  the  7voman  who  did  that — a  7nan  don't 
deal  such  fowl  blows,  igspecially  a  father  to  his  son  :  a  woman 
may,  poar  thing ! — she's  no  other  means  of  reventch,  and  is 
used  to  fight  with  underhand  wepns  all  her  life  through. 

Well,  whatever  the  pint  might  be,  this  Deuceace  saw  pretty 
clear  that  he'd  been  beat  by  his  father  at  his  own  game — a 
trapp  set  for  him  onst,  which  had  been  defitted  by  my  presnts 
of  mind — another  trap  set  afterwids,  in  which  my  lord  had  been 
suxesfle.     Now,  my  lord,  roag  as  he  was,  was  much  too  good- 


486         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

natured  to  do  an  unkind  ackshn,  mearly  for  the  sake  of  doing  it. 
He'd  got  to  that  pich  that  he  didn't  mind  injaries — they  were 
all  fair  play  to  him — he  gave  'em,  and  reseav'd  them,  without 
a  thought  of  mallis.  If  he  wanted  to  injer  his  son,  it  was  to 
benefick  himself.  And  how  was  this  to  be  done  ?  By  getting 
the  hairiss  to  himself,  to  be  sure.  The  Honrabble  Mr.  D.  didn't 
say  so  ;  but  I  knew  his  feelinx  well  enough — he  regretted  that 
he  had  not  given  the  old  genlmn  the  money  he  askt  for. 

Poar  fello  !  he  thought  he  had  hit  it ;  but  he  was  wide  of  the 
mark  after  all. 

Well,  but  what  was  to  be  done  ?  It  was  clear  that  he  must 
marry  the  gal  at  any  rate — cootky  coot,  as  the  French  say  :  that 
is,  marry  her,  and  hang  the  igspence. 

To  do  so  he  must  first  git  out  of  prisn — to  get  out  of  prisn 
he  must  pay  his  debts — and  to  pay  his  debts,  he  must  give  every 
shilling  he  was  worth.  Never  mind  :  four  thousand  pound  is  a 
small  stake  to  a  reglar  gambler,  igspecially  when  he  must  play 
it,  or  rot  for  life  in  prisn  ;  and  when,  if  he  plays  it  well,  it  will 
give  him  ten  thousand  a  year. 

So,  seeing  there  was  no  help  for  it,  he  maid  up  his  mind, 
and  accordingly  wrote  the  follying  letter  to  Miss  Griffin : — 

"  My  Adored  Matilda, — Your  letter  has  indeed  been  a  comfort  to  a  poor  fellow,  who 
had  hoped  that  this  night  would  have  been  the  most  blessed  in  his  life,  and  now  finds  him- 
self condemned  to  spend  it  within  a  prison  wall!  You  know  the  accursed  conspiracy  which 
has  brought  these  liabilities  upon  me,  and  the  foolisli  friendship  which  has  cost  me  so  much. 
But  what  matters  !  We  have,  as  you  say,  enough,  even  though  I  must  pay  this  shameful 
demand  upon  me  ;  and  five  thousand  pounds  are  as  nothing,  compared  to  the  happiness 
which  I  lose  in  being  separated  anight  from  thee!  Courage,  however!  If  I  make  a  sacri- 
fice it  is  for  you  ;  and  I  were  heartless  indeed  if  I  allowed  my  own  losses  to  balance  for  a 
moment  against  your  happiness. 

"  Is  it  not  so,  beloved  one  ?  Is  not  your  happiness  bound  up  with  mine,  in  a  union  with 
me?  I  am  proud  to  think  so — proud,  too,  to  offer  such  a  humble  proof  as  this  of  the  depth 
and  purity  of  my  affection. 

"Tell  me  that  you  will  still  be  mine  ;  tell  me  that  you  will  be  mine  to-morrow  ;  and  to- 
morrow these  vile  chains  shall  be  removed,  and  I  will  be  free  once  more — or  if  bound,  only 
bound  to  you  !  My  adorable  Matilda !  my  betrothed  bride  !  write  to  me  ere  the  evening 
closes,  for  I  shall  never  be  able  to  shut  my  eyes  in  slumber  upon  my  prison  couch,  until 
they  have  been  first  blessed  by  the  sight  of  a  few  words  from  thee  !  Write  to  me,  love  i 
write  to  me !     I  languish  for  the  reply  which  is  to  make  or  mar  me  for  ever. 

Your  affectionate 

"A.  P.  D.' 

Having  polisht  off  this  epistol,  master  intrustid  it  to  me  to 
carry,  and  bade  me  at  the  same  time  to  try  and  give  it  into 
Miss  Griffin's  hand  alone,  I  ran  with  it  to  Lady  Griffinses.  I 
found  Miss,  as  I  desired,  in  a  sollatary  condition  ;  and  I  pre- 
sented her  with  master's  pafewmed  Billy. 

She  read  it,  and  the  number  of  size  to  which  she  gave  vint, 
and  the  tears  which  she  shed,  beggar  digscription.  She  wep 
and  sighed  until  I  thought  she  would  bust.     She  even  claspt 


^^"^^^ .  .^#\, 


§ 


'S^IjV  w 


TO|( 


THE   LAST   STROKE   OF    FORTUNE. 


Mr.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS.  4$^ 

my  hand  in  her's,  and  said,  "O  Charles  !  is  he  very,  very 
miserable  ? '' 

"  He  is,  ma'am,"  says'  I  ;  "  very  miserable  indeed — nobody, 
upon  my  honor,  could  be  miserablerer." 

On  hearing  this  pethetic  remark,  her  mind  was  made  up  at 
onst :  and  sitting  down  to  her  eskrewtaw,  she  immediately 
ableaged  master  with  an  answer.  Here  it  is  in  black  and  white : 

"  My  prisoned  bird  shall  pine  no  more,  but  fly  home  to  its  nest  in  these  arms  !  Adored 
Algernon,  I  will  meet  thee  to-morrow,  at  the  same  place,  at  the  same  hour.  Then,  then,  it 
will  be  impossible  for  aught  but  death  to  divide  us-  M.  G." 

This  kind  of  flumry  style  comes,  you  see,  of  reading 
novvles,  and  cultivating  littery  purshuits  in  a  small  way.  How 
much  better  is  it  to  be  puffickly  ignorant  of  the  hart  of  writing, 
and  to  trust  to  the  writing  of  the  heart.  This  is  tny  style  : 
artyfiz  I  despise,  and  trust  compleatly  to  natur :  but  revnong  a 
no  mootong,  as  our  continential  friends  remark  :  to  that  nice 
white  sheep,  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace,  Exquire  ;  that  wenrabble 
old  ram,  my  Lord  Crabs  his  father  ;  and  that  tender  and 
dellygit  young  lamb.  Miss  Matilda  Griffin. 

She  had  just  foalded  up  into  its  proper  triangular  shape  the 
noat  transcribed  abuff,  and  I  was  just  on  the  point  of  saying, 
according  to  my  master's  orders,  "  Miss,  if  you  please,  the 
Honrabble  Mr.  Deuceace  would  be  very  much  ableaged  to  you 
to  keep  the  seminary  which  is  to  take  place  to-morrow  a  pro- 
found se ,"  when  my  master's  father  entered,  and   I  fell 

back  to  the  door.  Miss,  without  a  word,  rusht  into  his  arms, 
burst  into  teers  agin,  as  was  her  reglar  way  (it  must  be  confest 
she  was  of  a  very  mist  constitution),  and  showing  to  him  his 
son's  note,  cried,  "  Look,  my  dear  lord,  how  nobly  your  Alger- 
non, otir  Algernon,  writes  to  me.  Who  can  doubt,  after  this, 
of  the  purity  of  his  matchless  affection  ?  " 

My  lord  took  the  letter,  read  it,  seamed  a  good  deal 
amyoused,  and  returning  it  to  its  owner,  said,  very  much  to  my 
surprise,  "  My  dear  Miss  Griffin,  he  certainly  does  seem  in 
earnest ;  and  if  you  choose  to  make  this  match  without  the 
consent  of  your  mother-in-law,  you  know  the  consequence,  and 
are  of  course  your  own  mistress," 

"  Consequences  ! — for  shame,  my  lord  !  A  little  money, 
more  or  less,  what  matters  it  to  two  hearts  like  ours  ? " 

"  Hearts  are  very  pretty  things,  my  sweet  young  lady,  but 
Three-per-Cents.  are  better." 

*'  Nay,  have  we  not  an  ample  income  of  our  own,  without 
the  aid  of  Lady  Griffin  ?  " 


48^         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MH.  C.J.   VELLOWPLUSIt. 

My  lord  shrugged  his  shoulders.  ",Be  it  so,  my  love,"  sayS 
he.^  "  I'm  sure  I  can  have  no  other  reason  to  prevent  a  union 
ivhich  is  founded  upon  such  disinterested  affection." 

And  here  the  conversation  dropped.  Miss  retired,  clasping 
her  hands  and  making  play  with  the  whites  of  her  i's.  My 
Idrd  began  trotting  up  and  down  the  room,  with  his  fat  hands 
stuck  in  his  britchis  pockits,  his  countnince  lighted  up  with 
igstream  joy,  and  singing,  to  my  inordnit  igstonishment : 

"  See  the  conquering  hero  comes ! 
Tiddy  diddy  doll— tiddydoll,  doll,  doll." 

ile  began  singing  this  song,  and  tearing  up  and  down  the  room 
like  mad.  I  stood  amazd — a  new  light  broke  in  upon  me.  He 
wasn't  going,  then,  to  make  love  to  Miss  Griffin  !  Master 
might  marry  her  !     Had  she  not  got  the  for 1 

I  say,  I  was  just  standing  stock  still,  my  eyes  fixt,  my  hands 
puppindicklar,  my  mouf  wide  open  and  these  igstrordinary 
thoughts  passing  in  my  mind,  when  my  lord  having  got  to  the 
last  "  doll  "  of  his  song,  just  as  I  came  to  the  sillible  "  for  "  of 
my  ventriloquism,  or  inward  speech— we  had  eatch  jest 
reached  the  pint  digscribed,  when  the  meditations  of  both  were 
sudnly  stopt,  by  my  lord,  in  the  midst  of  his  singin  and  trottin 
match,  coming  bolt  up  aginst  poar  me,  sending  me  up  aginst 
one  end  of  the  room,  himself  flying  back  to  the  other  :  and  it 
was  only  after  considrabble  agitation  that  we  were  at  length 
restored  to  anything  like  a  liquilibrium. 

"  What,  you  here,  your  infernal  rascal .?  "  says  my  lord. 

"  Your  lordship's  ver^'  kind  to  notus  me,"  says  I ;  "  I  am 
here."     And  I  gave  him  a  look. 

He  saw  I  knew  the  whole  game. 

And  after  whisling  a  bit,  as  was  his  habit  when  puzzled  (I 
bleave  he'd  have  only  whisled  if  he  had  been  told  he  was  to  be 
hanged  in  five  minits),  after  whisling  a  bit,  he  stops  sudnly,  and 
coming  up  to  me,  says  : 

•'  Hearkye,  Charles,  this  marriage  must  take  place  to-mor- 
row." 

"  Must  it,  sir  ?  says  I ;  "  now,  for  my  part,  I  don't  think — " 

"  Stop  my  good  fellow  ;  if  it  does  not  take  place,  what  do 
you  gain  } " 

This  stagger'd  me.  If  it  didn't  take  place,  I  only  lost  a  sit- 
uation, for  master  had  just  enough  money  to  pay  his  detts  ;  and 
it  wooden  soot  my  book  to  serve  him  in  prisn  or  starving. 

"  Well,"  says  my  lord,  "  you  see  the  force  of  my  argument. 
Now,  look  here  !  "  and  he  lugs  out  a  crisp,  fluttering,  snowy 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  A  T  PARIS.  489 

HUNDRED-PUN  NOTE  !  "  If  my  son  and  Miss  Griffin  are  married 
to-morrow,  you  shall  have  this  ;  and  I  will,  moreover,  take  you 
into  my  service,  and  give  you  double  your  present  wages." 

Flesh  and  blood  cooden  bear  it.  "  My  lord,"  says  I,  laying 
my  hand  upon  my  busm,  "  only  give  me  security,"  and  I'm  yours 
for  ever." 

The  old  noblemin  grin'd,  and  pattid  me  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Right,  my  lad,"  says  he,  "  right — you're  a  nice  promising 
youth.  Here  is  the  best  security."  And  he  pulls  out  his  pocket- 
book,  returns  the  hundred-pun  bill,  and  takes  out  one  for  fifty. 
"Here  is  half  to-day  ;  to-morrow  you  shall  have  the  remainder." 

My  fingers  trembled  a  little  as  I  took  the  pretty  fluttering 
bit  of  paper,  about  five  times  as  big  as  any  sum  of  money  I  had 
ever  had  in  my  life.  I  cast  my  i  upon  the  amount :  it  was  a 
fifty  sure  enough — a  bank  poss-bill,  made  payable  to  Leonora 
Efttilia  Griffin,  and  indorsed  by  her.  The  cat  was  out  of  the 
bag.     Now,  gentle  reader,  I  spose  you  begin  to  see  the  game. 

"  Recollect,  from  this  day  you  are  in  my  service." 

"  My  lord,  you  overpoar  me  with  your  faviours." 

"  Go  to  the  devil,  sir,"  says  he  :  "  do  your  duty,  and  hold 
your  tongue." 

And  thus  I  went  from  the  service  of  the  Honorable  Al- 
gernon Deuceace  to  that  of  his  exlnsy  the  Right  Honorabble 

Earl  of  Crabs. 

******* 

On  going  back  to  prisn,  I  found  Deuceace  locked  up  in  that 
oajus  place  to  which  his  igstravygansies  had  deservedly  led  him  ; 
and  felt  for  him,  I  must  say,  a  great  deal  of  contemp.  A  raskle 
such  as  he — a  swindler,  who  had  robbed  poar  Dawkins  of  the 
means  of  igsistance  ;  who  had  cheated  his  fellow-roag,  Mr. 
Richard  Blewitt,  and  who  was  making  a  musnary  marridge  with 
a  disgusting  creacher  like  Miss  Griffin,  didn  merit  any  compashn 
on  my  purt ;  and  I  determined  quite  to  keep  secret  the  suckm- 
stansies  of  my  privit  intervew  with  his  exlnsy  my  present 
master. 

I  gev  him  Miss  Griffinses  trianglar,  which  he  read  with  a 
satisfied  air.  Then,  turning  to  me,  says  he  :  "  You  gave  this 
to  Miss  Griffin  alone  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  gave  her  my  message  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  you  are  quite  sure  Lord  Crabs  was  not  there  when 
you  gave  either  the  message  or  the  note  ? " 

'*  Not  there  upon  my  honor,"  says  I. 


^^o         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSR. 

"  Hang  your  honor,  sir !  Brush  my  hat  and  coat,  and  go 
call  a  coach — do  you  hear  ?  " 

^  -Tf  "Jf  ^  TT  ^  Tf 

I  did  as  I  was  ordered  ;  and  on  coming  back  found  master 
in  what's  called,  I  think,  the  greffe  of  the  prisn.  The  officer  in 
waiting  had  out  a  great  register,  and  was  talking  to  master  in 
the  French  tongue,  in  coarse  ;  a  number  of  poar  prisners  were 
looking  eagerly  on. 

"  Let  us  see,  my  lor,"  says  he  ;  the  debt  is  98,700  francs  ; 
there  are  capture  expenses,  interest  so  much ;  and  the  whole 
sum  amounts  to  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  vioins  13." 

Deuceace,  in  a  very  myjestic  way,  takes  out  of  his  pocket- 
book  four  thowsnd  pun  notes.  "  This  is  not  French  money, 
but  I  presume  that  you  know  it,  M.  Greffier,"  says  he. 

The  greffier  turned  round  to  old  Solomon,  a  money-changer, 
who  had  one  or  two  clients  in  the  prisn,  and  hapnd  luckily  to 
be  there.  "  Les  billets  sont  bons,"  says  he.  "  Je  les  prendrai 
pour  cent  mille  douze  cent  francs,  et  j'espere,  my  lor,  de  vous 
re  voir." 

"  Good,"  says  the  greffier  ;  "  I  know  them  to  be  good,  and 
I  will  give  my  lor  the  difference,  and  make  out  his  release." 

Which  was  done.  The  poar  debtors  gave  a  feeble  cheer,  as 
the  great  dubble  iron  gates  swung  open  and  clang  to  again, 
and  Deuceace  stept  out,  and  me  after  him,  to  breathe  the  fresh 
hair. 

He  had  been  in  the  place  but  six  hours,  and  was  now  free 
again — free,  and  to  be  married  to  ten  thousand  a  year  nex  day. 
But,  for  all  that,  he  lookt  very  faint  and  pale.  He  had  put 
down  his  great  stake  ;  and  when  he  came  out  of  Sainte  Pelagic, 
he  had  but  fifty  pounds  left  in  the  world  ! 

Never  mind — when  oust  the  money's  down,  make  your  mind 
easy  ;  and  so  Deuceace  did.  He  drove  back  to  the  Hotel 
Mirabew,  where  he  ordered  apartmince  infinately  more  splendid 
than  befor  ;  and  I  pretty  soon  told  Toinette,  and  the  rest  of 
the  suvvants,  how  nobly  he  behayved,  and  how  he  valyoud  four 
thousand  pound  no  more  than  ditch  water.  And  such  was  the 
consquincies  of  my  praises,  and  the  poplarity  I  got  for  us  boath, 
that  the  delighted  landlady  immediantly  charged  him  dubble 
what  she  would  have  done,  if  it  hadn  been  for  my  stoaries. 

He  ordered  splendid  apartmince,  then,  for  the,  nex  week  ;  a 
carridge-and-four  for  Fontainebleau  to-morrow  at  12  precisely  ; 
and  having  settled  all  these  things,  went  quietly  to  the  "  Roshy 
de  Cancale,"  where  he  dined  :  as  well  he  might,  for  it  was  now 
eight  o'clock.     I  didn't  spare  the  shompang  neither  that  night, 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS. 


491 


I  can  tell  you ;  for  when  I  carried  the  note  he  gave  me  for  Miss 
Griffin  in  the  evening,  informing  her  of  his  freedom,  that  young 
lady  remarked  my  hagitated  manner  of  walking  and  speaking, 
and^aid,  "  Honest  Charles  !  he  is  flusht  with  the  event  of  the 
day.  Here,  Charles,  is  a  napoleon  ;  take  it  and  drink  to  your 
mistress." 

I  pockitid  it ;  but,  I  must  say,  I  didn't  like  the  money — it 
went  against  my  stomick  to  take  it. 


Chap.  IX. — The  Marriage. 

Well,  the  nex  day  came:  at  12  the  carridge-and-four  was 
waiting  at  the  ambasdor's  doar ;  and  Miss  Griffin  and  the 
faithfle  Hicksey  were  punctial  to  the  apintment. 

I  don't  wish  to  digscribe  the  marridge  seminary — how  the 
embasy  chapling  jined  the  hands  of  this  loving  young  couple — 
how  one  of  the  embasy  footmin  was  called  in  to  witness  the 
marridge — how  Miss  wep  and  fainted,  as  usial — and  how  Deuce- 
ace  carried  her,  fainting,'  to  the  brisky,  and  drove  off  to  Fon- 
tingblo,  where  they  were  to  pass  the  fust  weak  of  the  honey- 
moon. They  took  no  servnts,  because  they  wisht,  they  said,  to 
be  privit.  And  so,  when  I  had  shut  up  the  steps,  and  bid  the 
postilion  drive  on,  I  bid  ajew  to  the  Honrabble  Algernon,  and 
went  off  strait  to  his  exlent  father. 

"  Is  it  all  over,  Chawls  ?  "  said  he. 

"I  saw  them  turned  off  at  igsackly  a  quarter  past  12,  my 
lord,"  says  I. 

"  Did  you  give  Miss  Griffin  the  paper,  as  I  told  you,  before 
her  marriage  ? " 

"  I  did,  my  lord,  in  the  presents  of  Mr.  Brown,  Lord  Bob- 
tail's man  ;  who  can  swear  to  her  having  had  it." 

I  must  tell  you  that  my  lord  had  made  me  read  a  paper 
which  Lady  Griffin  had  written,  and  which  I  was  comishnd  to 
give  in  the  manner  menshnd  abuff.     It  ran  to  this  effect : — 

"  According  to  the  authority  given  me  by  the  will  of  my  late  dear  husband,  I  forbid 
the  marriage  of  Miss  Griffin  with  the  Honorable  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace.  If  Miss 
Griffin  persists  in  the  union,  I  warn  her  that  she  must  abide  by  the  consequences  of  her  act. 

"  Leonora  Emilia  Griffin." 
"  Rue  de  Rivoli,  May  8,  1818." 

When  I  gave  this  to  Miss  as  she  entered  the  cortyard,  a 
minnit  before  my  master's  arrivle,  she  only  read  it  contempti- 
ously,  and  said,  "  I  laugh  at  the  threats  of  Lady  Griffin ; "  and 


492         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

she  toar  the  paper  in  two,  and  walked  on,  leaning  on  the  am 
of  the  faithful  and  obleaging  Miss  Kicksey. 

I  picked  up  the  paper  for  fear  of  axdents,  and  brot  it  to  my 
lord.  Not  that  there  was  any  necessaty  ;  for  he'd  kep  a  fopy, 
and  made  me  and  another  witniss  (my  Lady  Griffin's  solissator) 
read  them  both,  before  he  sent  either  away. 

"  Good  1  "  says  he  ;  and  he  projuiced  from  his  potfolio  the 
fello  of  that  bewchus  fifty-pun  note,  which  he'd  given  me  yes- 
terday, "  I  keep  my  promise,  you  see,  Charles,"  says  he. 
"  You  are  now  in  Lady  Griffin's  service,  in  the  place  of  Mr,  Fitz- 
clarence,  who  retires.     Go  to  Froje's,  and  get  a  livery," 

"  But,  my  lord,"  says  I,  "  I  was  not  to  go  into  Lady  Griffin- 
ses  service,  according  to  the  bargain,  but  into " 

"  It's  all  the  same  thing,"  says  he  ;  and  he  walked  off.  I 
went  to  Mr.  Froje's,  and  ordered  a  new  livry ;  and  found,  lik- 
wise,  that  our  coachmin  and  Munseer  Mortimer  had  been  there 
too.  My  lady's  livery  was  changed,  and  was  now  of  the  same 
color  as  my  old  coat  at  Mr,  Deuceace's  ;  and  I'm  blest  if  there 
wasn't  a  tremenjious  great  earl's  corronit  on  the  butins,  instid 
of  the  Griffin  rampint,  which  was  worn  befoar. 

I  asked  no  questions,  however,  but  had  myself  measured  ; 
and  slep  that  night  at  the  Plas  Vandome.  I  didn't  go  out  with 
the  carridge  for  a  day  or  two,  though  \  my  lady  only  taking 
one  footmin,  she  said,  until  her  new  carridge  was  turned  out 

I  think  you  can  guess  what's  in  the  wind  now  J 

I  bot  myself  a  dressing-case,  a  box  of  Ody  colong,  a  few 
duzen  lawn  sherts  and  neckcloths,  and  other  things  which  were 
necessary  for  a  genlmn  in  my  rank.  Silk  stockings  was  pro- 
vided by  the  rules  of  the  house.  And  I  completed  the  bisniss 
by  writing  the  following  ginteel  letter  to  my  late  master  : — 

"CHARLES  YELLOWPLUSH,  ESQUIRE,  TO  THE  HONORABLE 
A.  P.  DEUCEACE. 

"  SUR, — Suckmstansies  have  acurd  sins  I  last  had  the  honner  of  wating  on  you,  which 
render  it  impossibil  that  I  should  remane  any  longer  in  your  suvvice.  I'll  thank  you  t« 
leave  out  my  thinx,  when  they  come  home  on  Sattady  from  the  wash. 

"  Your  obeajnt  servnt, 

Charles  Ykllowplush.'' 
«  Plas  Venddme." 

The  athography  of  the  abuv  noat,  I  confess,  is  atrocious ; 
but  ke  voolyvoo  f  I  was  only  eighteen,  and  hadn  then  the  ex- 
pearance  in  writing  which  I've  enjide  sins. 

Having  thus  done  my  jewty  in  evry  way,  I  shall  prosead,  in 
the  nex  chapter,  to  say  what  hapnd  in  my  new  place. 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS. 


493 


Chap.  X. — The  Honey-Moon. 

The  weak  at  Fontingblow  past  quickly  away  ;  and  at  thfe 
end  of  it,  our  son  and  daughter-in-law — a  pare  of  nice  young 
tuttle-duvs — returned  to  their  nest,  at  the  Hotel  Mirabew.  I 
suspeck  that  the  cock  turtle-dove  was  preshos  sick  of  his 
barging. 

When  they  arriv'd,  the  fust  thing  they  found  on  their  table 
was  a  large  parsle  wrapt  up  in  silver  paper,  and  a  newspaper, 
and  a  couple  of  cards,  tied  up  with  a  peace  of  white  ribbing. 
In  the  parsle  was  a  hansume  piece  of  plum-cake,  with  a  deal  of 
sugar.     On  the  cards  was  wrote,  in  Goffick  characters 


€atl  of  Crab«. 


And,  in  very  small  Italian, 


Countess  of  Crabs 


And  in  the  paper  was  the  following  parrowgraff  : — 

"  Marriage  in  High  Life. — Yesterday,  at  the  British  embassy,  the  Right  Honorable 
John  Augustus  Altamont  Plantagenet,  Earl  of  Crabs,  to  Leonora  Emilia,  widow  of  the  late 
Lieutenant-General  Sir  George  Griffin,  K.  C.  B.  An  elegant  dejeiaie  was  given  to  the 
happy  couple  by  his  Excellency  Lord  Bobtail,  who  gave  away  the  bride.  The  elite  of  the 
foreign  diplomacy,  the  Prince  Talleyrand  and  Marshal  the  Duke  of  Dalmatia  on  behalf  of 
H.  M.  the  King  of  France,  honored  the  banquet  and  the  marriage  ceremony.  Lord  and 
Lady  Crabs  intend  passing  a  few  weeks  at  Samt  Cloud." 

The  above  dockyments,  along  with  my  own  triffling  billy,  of 
which  I  have  also  givn  a  copy,  greated  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Deuceace 
on  their  arrivle  from  Fontingblo.  Not  being  present,  I  can't 
say  what  Deuceace  said  ;  but  I  can  fancy  how  he  lookt,  and  how 
poor  Mrs.  Deuceace  lookt.  They  weren't  much  incline  to  rest 
after  the  fiteeg  of  the  junny  ;  for,  in  y^,  an  hour  after  their 
arrival  at  Paris,  the  bosses  were  put  to  the  carridge  agen,  and 
down  they  came  thundering  to  our  country-house  at  St.  Cloud 
(pronounst  by  those  absud  Frenchmin  Sing  Kloo),  to  interrup 
our  chaste  love  and  delishs  marridge  injyments. 

My  lord  was  sittn  in  a  crimson  satan  dressing-gown,  lolling 


494         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.    YELLOIVPLUSH. 

on  a  sofa  at  an  open  windy,  smoaking  seagars,  as  ushle  ;  he^ 
ladyship,  who,  to  du  her  justice,  didn  mind  the  smell,  occupied 
another  end  of  the  room,  and  was  working,  in  wusted,  a  pare  of 
slippers,  or  an  umbrellore  case,  or  a  coal-skittle,  or  some  such 
nonsints.  You  would  have  thought  to  have  sean  'em  that  they 
had  been  married  a  sentry,  at  least.  Well,  I  bust  in  upon  this 
conjugal  tator-tafor,  and  said,  very  much  alarmed,  "  My  lord, 
here's  your  son  and  daughter-in-law." 

"Well,"  says  my  lord,  quite  calm,  "and  what  then  ?" 

"  Mr.  Deuceace  !  "  says  my  lady,  starting  up,  and  looking 
fritened. 

"  Yes,  my  love,  my  son  ;  but  you  need  not  be  alarmed. 
Pray,  Charles,  say  that  Lady  Crabs  and  I  will  be  very  happy  to 
see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Deuceace  ;  and  that  they  must  excuse  us 
receiving  them  en  famiUc.  Sit  still,  my  blessing— take  things 
coolly.     Have  you  got  the  box  with  the  papers  ?  " 

My  lady  pointed  to  a  great  green  box— the  same  from  which 
she  had  taken  the  papers,  when  Deuceace  f^ist  saw  them, — and 
handed  over  to  my  lord  a  fine  gold  key.  I  went  out,  met 
Deuceace  and  his  wife  on  the  stepps,  gave  my  messinge,  and 
bowed  them  palitely  in. 

My  lord  didn't  rise,  but  smoaked  away  as  usual  (praps  a 
little  quicker,  but  I  can't  say)  ;  my  lady  sat  upright,  looking 
handsum  and  strong.  Deuceace  walked  in,  his  left  arm  tied  to 
his  breast,  his  wife  and  hat  on  the  other.  He  looked  very  pale 
and  frightened  ;  his  wife,  poar  thing !  had  her  head  berried  in 
her  handkerchief,  and  sobd  fit  to  break  her  heart. 

Miss  Kicksey,  who  was  in  the  room  (but  I  didn't  mention 
her,  she  was  less  than  nothink  in  our  house),  went  up  to  Mrs. 
Deuceace  at  onst,  and  held  out  her  arms— she  had  a  heart, 
that  old  Kicksey,  and  I  respect  her  for  it.  The  poor  hunch- 
back flung  herself  into  Miss's  arms,  with  a  kind  of  whooping 
screech,  and  kep  there  for  some  time,  sobbing  in  quite  a 
historical  manner.  I  saw  there  was  going  to  be  a  sean,  and  so, 
in  cors,  left  the  door  ajar. 

"  Welcome  to  Saint  Cloud,  Algy  my  boy  !  "  says  my  lord,  in 
a  loud,  hearty  voice.  "  You  thought  you  would  give  us  the 
slip,  eh,  you  rogue  ?  But  we  knew  it,  my  dear  fellow  :  we  knew 
the  whole  affair — did  we  not,  my  soul  ? — and  you  see,  kept  our 
secret  better  than  you  did  yours." 

"  I  must  confess,  sir,"  says  Deuceace,  bowing,  "  that  I  had 
no  idea  of  the  happiness  which  awaited  me  in  the  shape  of  a 
mother-in-law." 

♦'  No,  you  dog ;  no,  no,"  says  my  lord,  giggling  :  "  old  birds, 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS. 


495 


you  know,  not  to  be  caught  with  chaff,  like  young  ones.  But 
here  we  are,  all  spliced  and  happy,  at  last.  Sit  down,  Algernon  ; 
let  us  smoke  a  segar,  and  talk  over  the  perils  and  adventures 
of  the  last  month.  My  love,"  says  my  lord,  turning  to  his  lady, 
"  you  have  no  malice  against  poor  Algernon,  I  trust  ?  Pray 
shake  his  haftd.''     (A  grin.) 

But  my  lady  rose  and  said,  "  I  have  told  Mr.  Deuceace,  that 
I  never  wished  to  see  him,  or  speak  to  him,  more.  I  see  no 
reason,  now,  to  change  my  opinion."  And  herewith  she  sailed 
out  of  the  room,  by  the  door  through  which  Kicksey  had  carried 
poor  Mrs.  Deuceace. 

"Well,  well,"  says  my  lord,  as  Lady  Crabs  swept  by,  "I 
was  in  hopes  she  had  forgiven  you  ;  but  I  know  the  whole  story, 
and  I  must  confess  you  used  her  cruelly  ill.  Two  strings  to 
your  bow  ! — that  was  your  game,  was  it,  you  rogue  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean,  my  lord,  that  you  know  all  that  past 
between  me  and  Lady  Grif — Lady  Crabs,  before  our  quarrel  ?  " 

"  Perfectly — you  made  love  to  her,  and  she  was  almost  in 
love  with  you  ;  you  jilted  her  for  money,  she  got  a  man  to  shoot 
your  hand  off  in  revenge  :  no  more  dice-boxes,  now,  Deuceace  ; 
no  more  sauter  la  coupe.  I  can't  think  how  the  deuce  you  will 
manage  to  live  without  them." 

"  Your  lordship  is  very  kind  ;  but  I  have  given  up  play  alto- 
gether," says  Deuceace,  looking  mighty  black  and  uneasy. 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  Benedick  has  turned  a  moral  man,  has  he  ? 
This  is  better  and  better.  Are  you  thinking  of  going  into  the 
church,  Deuceace  ?  " 

"  My  lord,  may  I  ask  you  to  be  a  little  more  serious  ?  " 

"  Serious  !  a  quoi  bon  ?  I  am  serious — serious  in  my  surprise 
that,  when  you  might  have  had  either  of  these  women,  you 
should  have  preferred  that  hideous  wife  of  yours." 

"  May  I  ask  you,  in  turn,  how  you  came  to  be  so  little 
squeamish  about  a  wife,  as  to  choose  a  woman  who  had  just 
been  making  love  to  your  own  son  ?  "  says  Deuceace,  growing 
fierce. 

"  How  can  you  ask  such  a  question  ?  I  owe  forty  thousand 
pounds — there  is  an  execution  at  Sizes  Hall — every  acre  I  have 
is  in  the  hands  of  my  creditors  ;  and  that's  why  I  married  her. 
Do  you  think  there  was  any  love  .''  Lady  Crabs  is  a  dev'lish 
fine  woman,  but  she's  not  a  fool — she  married  me  for  my 
coronet,  and  I  married  her  for  her  money." 

"  Well,  my  lord,  you  need  not  ask  me,  I  think,  why  I  mar^ 
ried  the  daughter-in-law." 

"  Yes,  but  I  do,  my  dear  boy.     How  the  deuce  are  you  to 


I|96         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

live  ?  Dawkins's  five  thousand  pounds  won't  last  for  ever;  and 
afterwards  ?  " 

*'  You  don't  mean,  my  lord — you  don't — I  mean,  you  can't 

D — !  "  says  he,  starting  up,  and  losing  all  patience,  "  you 

don't  dare  to  say  that  Miss  Griffin  had  not  a  fortune  of  ten 
thousand  a  year  ?  " 

My  lord  was  rolling  up,  and  wetting  betwigst  his  lips, 
another  segar ;  he  lookt  up,  after  he  had  lighted  it,  and  said 
quietly — 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Griflfin  had  a  fortune  of  ten  thousand  a  year." 

"  Well,  sir,  and  has  she  not  got  it  now  ?  Has  she  spent  it 
in  a  week  ?  " 

"  She  has  not  got  a  sixpetice  now :  she  married  without  her 
mother's  consent!''^ 

Deuceace  sunk  down  in  a  chair ;  and  I  never  see  such  a 
dreadful  picture  of  despair  as  there  was  in  the  face  of  that 
retchid  man  ! — he  writhed,  and  nasht  his  teeth,  he  tore  open 
his  coat,  and  wriggled  madly  the  stump  of  his  left  hand,  until, 
fairly  beat,  he  threw  it  over  his  livid  pale  face,  and  sinking 
backwards,  fairly  wept  alowd. 

Bah  !  it's  a  dreddfie  thing  to  hear  a  man  crying  !  his  pashn 
torn  up  from  the  very  roots  of  his  heart,  as  it  must  be  before  it 
can  git  such  a  vent.  My  lord,  meanwhile,  rolled  his  segar, 
lighted  it,  and  went  on. 

"  My  dear  boy,  the  girl  has  not  a  shilling.  I  wished  to  have 
left  you  alone  in  peace,  with  your  four  thousand  pounds ;  you 
might  have  lived  decently  upon  it  in  Germany,  where  money  is 
at  5  per  cent.,  where  your  duns  would  not  find  you,  and  a  couple 
of  hundred  a  year  would  have  kept  you  and  your  wife  in  com- 
fort. But,  you  see.  Lady  Crabs  would  not  listen  to  it.  You 
had  injured  her  ;  and,  after  she  had  tried  to  kill  you  and  failed, 
she  determined  to  ruin  you,  and  succeeded.  I  must  own  to 
you  that  I  directed  the  arresting  business,  and  put  her  up  to 
buying  your  protested  bills  :  she  got  them  for  a  trifle,  and  as 
you  have  paid  them,  has  made  a  good  two  thousand  pounds  by 
her  bargain.  It  was  a  painful  thing  to  be  sure,  for  a  father  to 
get  his  son  arrested  ;  but  que  voulez-vous  ?  I  did  not  appear  in 
the  transaction  :  she  would  have  you  ruined ;  and  it  was 
absolutely  necessary  that  jw^  should  marry  before  I  could,  so  I 
pleaded  your  cause  with  Miss  Griffin,  and  made  you  the  happy 
man  you  are.  You  rogue,  you  rogue  !  you  thought  to  match 
your  old  father,  did  you  ?  But,  never  mind  ;  lunch  will  be  ready 
soon.  In  the  meantime,  have  a  segar,  and  drink  a  glass  of 
Sauterne." 


MR.  DEUCEACE  AT  PARIS.  497 

Deuceace,  who  had  been  listening  to  this  speech,  sprung  up 
wildly. 

"I'll  not  believe  it,"  he  said  :  "it's  a  lie,  an  infernal  lie  ! 
forged  by  you,  you  hoary  villain,  and  by  the  murderess  and 
strumpet  you  have  married.  I'll  not  believe  it :  show  me  the 
will.  Matilda  !  Matilda  !"  shouted  he,  screaming  hoarsely,  and 
flinging  open  the  door  by  which  she  had  gone  out. 

"  Keep  your  temper,  my  boy.  You  are  vexed,  and  I  feel 
for  you  :  but  don't  use  such  bad  language  :  it  is  quite  needless, 
believe  me." 

"  Matilda  !  "  shouted  out  Deuceace  again ;  and  the  poor 
crooked  thing  came  trembling  in,  followed  by  Miss  Kicksey. 

"  Is  this  true,  woman  ?  "  says  he,  clutching  hold  of  her 
hand, 

"  What,  dear  Algernon  ?  "  says  she. 

"  What?  "  screams  out  Deuceace, — "  what  ?  Why  that  you 
are  a  beggar,  for  marrying  without  your  mother's  consent — that 
you  basely  lied  to  me,  in  order  to  bring  about  this  match — that 
you  are  a  swindler,  in  conspiracy  with  that  old  fiend  yonder  and 
the  she-devil  his  wife  ?  " 

"  It  is  true,"  sobbed  the  poor  woman,"  "  that  I  have  nothing ; 
but " 

"  Nothing  but  what  ?  Why  don't  you  speak,  you  drivelling 
fool ? " 

"  I  have  nothing  ! — but  you,  dearest,  have  two  thousand  a 
year.  Is  that  not  enough  for  us  ?  You  love  me  for  myself, 
don't  you,  Algernon?  You  have  told  me  so  a  thousand  times 
— say  so  again,  dear  husband;  and  do  not,  do  not  be  so 
unkind."  And  here  she  sank  on  her  knees,  and  clung  to  him, 
and  tried  to  catch  his  hand,  and  kiss  it. 

"  How  much  did  you  say  ?  "  says  my  lord. 

"  Two  thousand  a  year,  sir ;  he  has  told  us  so  a  thousand 
times." 

^^  Two  thousand!  Two  thou — ho,  ho,  ho!  —  haw!  haw! 
haw!"  roars  my  lord.  "That  is,  I  vow,  the  best  thing  I  ever 
heard  in  my  life.  My  dear  creature,  he  has  not  a  shilling — not 
a  single  maravedi,  by  all  the  gods  and  goddesses."  And  this 
exlnt  noblemin  began  laffin  louder  than  ever  :  a  very  kind  and 
feeling  genlmn  he  was,  as  all  must  confess. 

There  was  a  paws  :  and  Mrs.  Deuceace  didn  begin  cussing 
and  swearing  at  her  husband  as  he  had  done  at  her :  she  only 
said,  "  O  Algernon  !  is  this  true  ?  "  and  got  up,  and  went  to  a 
chair  and  wep  in  quiet. 

My  lord  opened  the  great  box.     "  If  you  or  your  lawyers 


49?         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

would  like  to  examine  Sir  George's  will,  it  is  quite  at  your  ser* 
vice  \  you  will  see  here  the  proviso  which  I  mentioned,  that 
gives  the  entire  fortune  to  Lady  Griffin — Lady  Crabs  that  is : 
and  here,  my  dear  boy,  you  see  the  danger  of  hasty  conclusions. 
Her  ladyship  only  showed  you  \\\^  first  page  of  the  jvill,  of  course  : 
she  wanted  to  try  you.  You  thought  you  made  a  great  stroke 
in  at  once  proposing  to  Miss  Griffin — do  not  mind  it,  my  love, 
he  really  loves  you  now  very  sincerely  ! — when,  in  fact,  you 
would  have  done  much  better  to  have  read  the  rest  of  the  will. 
You  were  completely  bitten,  my  boy — humbugged,  bamboozled 
— ay,  and  by  your  old  father,  you  dog.  I  told  you  I  would,  you 
know,  when  you  refused  to  lend  me  a  portion  of  your  Dawkins 
money.  I  told  you  I  would  ;  and  I  did.  I  had  you  the  very 
next  day.  Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you,  Percy  my  boy  ;  don't 
try  your  luck  again  against  such  old  hands  :  look  deuced  well 
before  you  leap  :  audi  altera7n  parti7)i,  my  lad,  which  means, 
read  both  sides  of  the  will.  I  think  lunch  is  ready :  but  I  see 
you  don't  smoke.     Shall  we  go  in  ?  " 

"  Stop,  my  lord,"  says  Mr.  Deuceace,  very  humble  :  "  I 
shall  not  share  your  hospitality — but — but  you  know  my  condi- 
tion ;  I  am  penniless — you  know  the  manner  in  which  my  wife 
has  been  brought  up " 

"  The  Honorable  Mrs.  Deuceace,  sir,  shall  always  find  a 
home  here,  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to  interrupt  the  friend- 
ship between  her  dear  mother  and  herself." 

"  And  for  me,  sir,"  says  Deuceace,  speaking  faint,  and 
very  slow  ;  "  I  hope — I  trust — I  think,  my  lord,  you  will  not 
forget  me  ? " 

"  Forget  you,  sir  ;  certainly  not.' 

"  And  that  you  will  make  some  provision ?  " 

"  Algernon  Deuceace,"  says  my  lord,  getting  up  from  the 
sophy,  and  looking  at  him  with  sich  a  jolly  malignity,  as  1 
never  see,  "  I  declare,  before  heaven,  that  I  will  not  give  you  a 
penny !  " 

Hereupon  my  lord  held  out  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Deuceace,  and 
said,  "  My  dear,  will  you  join  your  mother  and  me  ?  We  shall 
always,  as  I  said,  have  a  home  for  you." 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  poar  thing,  dropping  a  curtsey,  "  my 
home  is  with  him  .'"' 

tP  *  ^  Tf  TT  ^  ^ 

*  -JP  -TV  -Jv  ^  ^ 

******* 

About  three  months  after,  when  the  season  was  beginning 
at  Paris,  and  the  autumn  leafs  was  on  the  ground,  my  lord,  my 


MR.  DEUCE  ACE  AT  PARIS. 


499 


lady,  me  and  Mortimer,  were  taking  a  stroal  in  the  Boddy 
Balong,  the  carridge  driving  on  slowly  ahead,  and  us  as  happy 
as  possbill,  admiring  the  pleasant  woods  and  the  goldn  sunset. 

My  lord  was  expayshating  to  my  lady  upon  the  exquizit 
beauty  of  the  sean,  and  pouring  forth  a  host  of  butifle  and  vir- 
tuous sentaments  sootable  to  the  hour.  It  was  dalitefle  to  hear 
him.  "  Ah  ! "  said  he,  "  black  must  be  the  heart,  my  love, 
which  does  not  feel  the  influence  of  a  scene  like  this  ;  gathering 
as  it  were,  from  those  sunlit  skies,  a  portion  of  their  celestial 
gold,  and  gaining  somewhat  of  heaven  with  each  pure  draughl 
of  this  delicious  air  !  " 

Lady  Crabs  did  not  speak,  but  prest  his  arm  and  looked  up- 
wards. Mortimer  and  I,  too,  felt  some  of  the  infliwents  of  the 
sean  and  lent  on  our  goold  sticks  in  silence.  The  carriage 
drew  up  close  to  us,  and  my  lord  and  my  lady  sauntered  slowly 
lords  it. 

Jest  at  the  place  was  a  bench,  and  on  the  bench  sate  a 
poorly  drest  woman,  and  by  her,  leaning  against  a  tree,  was  a 
man  whom  I  thought  I'd  sean  befor.  He  was  drest  in  a  shabby 
blew  coat,  with  white  seems  and  copper  buttons  ;  a  torn  hat 
was  on  his  head,  and  great  quantaties  of  matted  hair  and 
wiskers  disiiggared  his  countnints.  He  was  not  shaved,  and 
as  pale  as  stone. 

My  lord  and  lady  didn't  tak  the  slightest  notice  of  him, 
but  past  on  to  the  carridge.  Me  and  Mortimer  lickwise  took  ou^ 
places.  As  we  past,  the  man  had  got  a  grip  of  the  woman's 
shoulder,  who  was  holding  down  her  head  sobbing  bitterly. 

No  sooner  were  my  lord  and  lady  seated,  than  they  both, 
with  igstream  dellixy  and  good  natur,  bust  into  a  ror  of  lafter, 
peal  upon  peal,  whooping  and  screaching  enough  to  frighten 
the  evening  silents. 

Deuceace  turned  round.  I  see  his  face  now — the  face  of 
a  devvle  of  hell  !  Fust,  he  lookt  towards  the  carridge,  and 
pinted  to  it  with  his  maimed  arm  ;  then  he  raised  the  other, 
And  struck  the  woman  by  his  side.     She  fell,  screaming. 

Poor  thing  !     Poor  thing ! 


500         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 


MR.   YELLOWPLUSH'S    AJEW. 

The  end  of  Mr.  Deuceace's  history  is  going  to  be  the  end 
of  my  corrispondince.  I  wish  the  public  was  as  sory  to  part 
with  me  as  I  am  with  the  public  ;  becaws  I  fansy  reely  that 
we've  become  frends,  and  feal  for  my  part  a  becoming  greaf  at 
saying  ajew. 

It's  impossbill  for  me  to  continyow,  however,  a-writin,  as  I 
have  done — violetting  the  rules  of  authography,  and  trampling 
upon  the  fust  princepills  of  English  grammar.  When  I  began, 
I  knew  no  better  :  when  I'd  carrid  on  these  papers  a  little  fur- 
ther, and  grew  accustmd  to  writin,  I  began  to  smel  out  some- 
think  quear  in  my  style.  Within  the  last  sex  weaks  I  have 
been  learning  to  spell :  and  when  all  the  world  was  rejoicing  at 
the  festivvaties  of  our  youthful  Quean — *  when  all  i's  were  fixt 
upon  her  long  sweet  of  ambasdors  and  princes,  following  the 
splendid  carridge  of  Marshle  the  Duke  of  Damlatiar,  and  blink- 
ing at  the  pearls  and  dimince  of  Prince  Oystereasy — Yellow- 
plush  was  in  his  loanly  pantry — his  eyes  were  fixt  upon  the 
spelling-book — his  heart  was  bent  upon  mastring  the  diffickle- 
ties  of  the  littery  professhn.     I  have  been,  in  fact,  convcrtid. 

You  shall  here  how.  Ours,  you  know,  is  a  Wig  house  ;  and 
ever  sins  his  third  son  has  got  a  place  in  the  Treasury,  his 
secknd  a  captingsy  in  the  Guards,  his  fust,  the  secretary  of  em- 
basy  at  Pekin,  with  a  prospick  of  being  appinted  ambasdor  at 
Loo  Choo — ever  sins  master's  sons  have  reseaved  these  atten- 
tions, and  master  himself  has  had  the  proniis  of  a  pearitch,  he 
has  been  the  most  reglar,  consistnt,  honrabble  Libbaral,  in  or 
out  of  the  House  of  Commins. 

Well,  being  a  Whig,  it's  the  fashn,  as  you  know,  to  reseave 
littery  pipple  ;  and  accordingly,  at  dinner,  tother  day,  whose 
name  do  you  think  I  had  to  hollar  out  on  the  fust  landing-place 
about  a  wick  ago  ?  After  several  dukes  andmarkises  had  been 
enounced,  a  very  gentell  fly  drives  up  to  our  doar,  and  out 
steps  two  gentlemen.  One  was  pail,  and  wor  spektickles,  a  wig, 
and  a  white  neckcloth.  The  other  was  slim  with  a  hook  nose, 
a  pail  fase,  a  small  waist,  a  pare  of  falling  shoulders,  a  tight 
coat,  and  a  catarack  of  black  satting  tumbling  out  of  his  busm, 
and  falling  into  a  gilt  velvet  weskit.     The  little  genlmn  settled 

*  This  was  written  in  i8j8. 


MR.  YELLOWPLUSH'S  A  JEW.  cqt 

his  wigg,  and  pulled  out  his  ribbins  ;  the  younger  one  fluffed 
the  dust  of  his  shoos,  looked  at  his  wiskers  in  a  little  pockit- 
glas,  settled  his  crevatt ;  and  they  both  mounted  up  stairs. 

"  What  name,  sir?  "  says  I,  to  the  old  genlmn. 

"Name! — a!  now,  you  thief  o'  the  wurrld,"  says  he,  "  do 
you  pretind  nat  to  know  me  ?  Say  it's  the  Cabinet  Cyclopa — 
no,  I  mane  the  Litherary  Chran — psha  ! — bluthanowns  ! — say 
it's  DocTHOR  DiocLESiAN  Larner — I  think  he'll  know  me  now 
— ay,  Nid  ?  "  But  the  genlmn  called  Nid  was  at  the  botm  of 
the  stare,  and  pretended  to  be  very  busy  with  his  shoo-string. 
So  the  little  genlmn  went  up  stares  alone, 

"Doctor  Diolesius  Larner!"  says  I. 

"  Doctor  Athanasius  Lardner  !  "  says  Greville  Fitz-Roy, 
our  secknd  footman,  on  the  fust  landing-place. 

"  IDoctor  Jgnatius  Cogola  !  "  says  the  groom  of  the  cham- 
bers, who  pretends  to  be  a  schollar  ;  and  in  the  little  genlmn 
went.  When  safely  housed,  the  other  chap  came  ;  and  when  I 
asked  him  his  name,  said,  in  a  thick,  gobbling  kind  of  voice  : 

"  Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig." 

"  Sir  what  ?  "  says  I,  quite  agast  at  the  name, 

"  Sawedwad — no,  I  mean  Misfawed^zd  Lyttn  Bulwig." 

My  neas  trembled  under  me,  my  i's  fild  with  tiers,  my  voice 
shook,  as  I  past  up  the  venrabble  name  to  the  other  footman, 
and  saw  this  fust  of  English  writers  go  up  to  the  drawing- 
room  ! 

It's  needless  to  mention  the  names  of  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pny,  or  to'dixcribe  the  suckmstansies  of  the  dinner.  Suffiz  to 
say  that  the  two  littery  genlmn  behaved  very  well,  and  seamed 
to  have  good  appytights  ;  igspecially  the  little  Irishman  in  the 
whig,  who  et,  drunk,  and  talked  as  much  as  |  a  duzn.  He 
told  how  he'd  been  presented  at  cort  by  his  friend,  Mr.  Bul- 
wig, and  how  the  Quean  had  received  'em  both,  with  a  dignity 
undigscribable  ;  and  how  her  blessid  Majisty  asked  what  was  the 
bony  fidy  sale  of  the  Cabinit  Cyclopaedy,  and  how  he  (Doctor 
Larner)  told  her  that,  on  his  honner,  it  was  under  ten  thowsnd. 

You  may  guess  that  the  Doctor,  when  he  made  this  speach, 
was  pretty  far  gone.  The  fact  is,  that  whether  it  was  the  coro- 
nation, or  the  goodness  of  the  wine  (cappitle  it  is  in  our  house, 
/can  tell  you),  or  the  natral  propensaties  of  the  gests  assem- 
bled, which  made  them  so  igspecially  jolly,  I  don't  know  ;  but 
they  had  kep  up  the  meating  pretty  late,  and  our  poar  butler 
was  quite  tired  with  the  perpechual  baskits  of  clarrit  which 
he'd  been  called  upon  to  bring  up.  So  that  about  1 1  o'clock, 
if  I  v/ere  to  say  they  were  merry,  I  should  use  a  mild  term ; 


502         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

if  I  wer  to  say  they  were  intawsicated,  I  should  use  an  igs* 
presshn  more  near  to  the  truth,  but  less  rispeckful  in  one  of 
my  situashn. 

The  cumpany  reseaved  this  annountsmint  with  mute  exton- 
ishment. 

"Pray,  Doctor  Lardner,"  says  a  spiteful  genlmn,  willing  to 
keep  up  the  littery  conversation,  "  what  is  the  Cabinet  Cyclo- 
paedia ?  " 

"  It's  the  littherary  wontherr  of  the  wurrld,"  says  he  ;  "  and 
sure  your  lordship  must  have  seen  it ;  the  latther  numbers 
ispicially — cheap  as  durrt,  bound  in  gleezed  calico,  six  shil- 
lings a  vollum.  The  illusthrious  neems  of  Walther  Scott, 
Thomas  Moore,  Docther  Southey,  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  Doc- 
ther  Donovan,  and  meself,  are  to  be  found  in  the  list  of  con- 
thributors.  It's  the  Phaynix  of  Cyclopajies — a  litherary  Ba- 
con." 

"  A  what  ? "  says  the  genlmn  nex  to  him, 

"  A  Bacon,  shining  in  the  darkness  of  our  age  ;  fild  wid 
the  pure  end  lambent  flame  of  science,  burning  with  the  gorr- 
geous  scintillations  of  divine  litherature — a  motiuminfum,  in 
fact,  are  periti/iius,  bound  in  a  pink  calico,  six  shillings  a  vol- 
lum." 

"  This  wigmawole,"  said  Mr.  Bui  wig  (who  seemed  rather 
disgusted  that  his  friend  should  take  up  so  much  of  the  convas- 
sation),  "  this  wigmawole  is  all  vewy  well ;  but  it's  cuwious 
that  you  don't  wemember,  in  chawactewising  the  litewawy  the 
mewits  of  the  vawious  magazines,  cwonicles,  weviews,  and  en- 
cyclopEedias,  the  existence  of  a  cwitical  weview  and  litewawy 
chwonicle,  which,  though  the  aewa  of  its  appeawance  is  dated 
only  at  a  vewy  few  months  pwevious  to  the  pwesent  pewiod,  is, 
nevertheless,  so  wemarkable  for  its  intwinsic  mewits  as  to  be 
wead,  not  in  the  metwopolis  alone,  but  in  the  countwy — not  in 
Fwance  merely,  but  in  the  west  of  Euwope — whewever  our 
pure  Wenglish  is  spoken,  it  swetches  its  peaceful  sceptre — 
pewused  in  Amewica,  fwom  New  York  to  Niagawa — wepwinted 
in  Canada,  from  Montweal  to  Towonto — and,  as  I  am  gwatified 
to  hear  from  my  fwend  the  governor  of  Cape  Coast  Castle, 
wegularly  weceived  in  Afwica,  and  twanslated  into  the  Man- 
dingo  language  by  the  missionawies  and  the  bushwangers.  I 
need  not  say,  gentlemen — sir — that  is,  Mr.  Speaker — I  mean, 
Sir  John — that  I  allude  to  the  Litewawy  Chwonicle,  of  which 
I  have  honor  to  be  pwincipal  contwibutor." 

"Very  true,  my  dear  Mr.  Bullwig,"  says  my  master:  "you 
and  I  being  Whigs,  must  of  course  stand  by  our  friends  ;  and  I 


MR.  YELLOWPLUSH'S  A  JEW.  ^03 

will  agree,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  that  the  Literary 
what-d'ye-call'em  is  the  prince  of  periodicals." 

"  The  Pwince  of  Pewiodicals  ?  "  says  Bullwig  ;  "  my  dear  Sir 
John,  it's  the  empewow  of  the  pwess." 

"  Soit, — let  it  be  the  emperor  of  the  press,  as  you  poetically 
call  it :  but,  between  ourselves,  confess  it, — Do  not  the  Toiy 
writers  beat  your  Whigs  hollow  ?  You  talk  about  magazines. 
Look  at " 

"  Look  at  hwat  ?  "  shouts  out  Larder.  "  There's  none,  Sir 
Jan,  compared  to  ourrs." 

"  Pardon  me,  I  think  that " 

"  It  is  '  Bentley's  Mislany  '  you  mane  .''  "  says  Ignatius,  as 
sharp  as  a  niddle. 

"Why,  no;  but " 

"  O  thin,  it's  Co'burn,  sure  ;  and  that  divvle  Thayodor — a 
pretty  paper,  sir,  but  light — thrashy,  milk-and-wathery  —  not 
sthrong,  like  the  Litherary  Chran — good  luck  to  it." 

"  Why,  Doctor  Lander,  I  was  going  to  tell  at  once  the  name 
of  the  periodical, — it  is  Phaser's  Magazine." 

"  Freser  ! "  says  the  Doctor.     "  O  thunder  and  turf !  " 

"  FwASER  !  "  says  Bullwig.  "  O — ah — hum — haw — yes  — 
no — why, — that  is  weally — no,  weally,  upon  my  weputation,  I 
never  before  heard  the  name  of  the  pewiodical.  By  the  bya, 
Sir  John,  what  remarkable  good  clawet  this  is  ;  is  it  Lawose  or 
Laff ? " 

Laff,  indeed  !  he  couldn't  git  beyond  laff ;  and  I'm  blest  if 
I  could  kip  it  neither, — for  hearing  him  pretend  ignurnts,  and 
being  behind  the  skreend,  settlin  sumthink  for  a  genlmn,  I  bust 
into  such  a  raw  of  laffing  as  never  was  igseeded. 

"  Hullo  !  "  says  Bullwig,  turning  red.  "  Have  I  said  any- 
thing impwobable,  aw  widiculous  ?  for,  weally,  I  never  befaw 
wecollect  to  have  heard  in  society  such  a  twemendous  peal  of 
cachinnation — that  which  the  twagic  bard  who  fought  at  Ma- 
wathon  has  called  an  a/iewithmon  gelasma^ 

"Why,  be  the  holy  piper,"  says  Larder,  "I  think  you  are 
dthrawing  a  little  on  your  imagination.  Not  read  Fr-aser-1 
Don't  believe  him,  my  lord  duke  ;  he  reads  every  word  of  it, 
the  rogue  !  The  boys  about  that  magazine  baste  him  as  if  he 
was  a  sack  of  oatmale.  My  reason  for  crying  out.  Sir  Jan,  was 
because  you  mintioned  Fraser  at  all.  Bullwig  has  every  sylla- 
ble of  it  be  heart — from  the  paillitix  down  to  the  '  Yellowplush 
Correspondence.'  " 

"  Ha,  ha !  "  says  Bullwig,  affecting  to  laff  (you  may  be  sure 
my  years  prickt  up  when  I  heard  the  name  of  the  *  Yellowplush 


5  04        THE  MEMOIRS  OP  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSfT. 

Correspondence  ').  "  Ha,  ha  !  why,  to  tell  twuth,  I  have  wead 
the  cowespondence  to  which  you  alhide  :  it's  a  gweat  favowite 
at  court.  I  was  talking  with  Spwing  Wice  and  John  Wussell 
about  it  the  other  day." 

"Well,  and  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  "  says  Sir  John,  looking 
mity  waggish — for  he  knew  it  was  me  who  roat  it. 

"  Why,  weally  and  twuly,  there's  considewable  cleverness 
about  the  cweature  ;  but  it's  low,  disgustingly  low  :  it  violates 
pwobability,  and  the  orthogwaphy  is  so  carefully  inaccuwate,  that 
it  requires  a  positive  study  to  compwehend  it." 

"  Yes,  faith,"  says  Larner ;  "  the  arthagraphy  is  detestible  ; 
it's  as  bad  for  a  man  to  write  bad  spillin  as  it  is  for  'em  to 
speak  with  a  brrogue.  Iducation  furst,  and  ganius  afterwards. 
Your  health,  my  lord,  and  good  luck  to  you." 

"Yaw  wemark,"  says  Bullwig,  "is  vewy  appwopwiate.  You 
will  wecollect.  Sir  John,  in  Hewodotus  (as  for  you.  Doctor,  you 
know  more  about  Iwish  than  about  Gweek), — you  will  wecollect, 
without  doubt,  a  stowy  nawwated  by  that  cwedulous  though 
fascinating  chwonicler,  of  a  certain  kind  of  sheep  which  is 
known  only  in  a  certain  distwict  of  Awabia,  and  of  which  the 
tail  is  so  enormous,  that  it  either  dwaggles  on  the  gwound,  or 
is  bound  up  by  the  shepherds  of  the  country  into  a  small  wheel- 
bawwow,  or  cart,  which  makes  the  chwonicler  sneewingly  we- 
mark that  thus  '  the  sheep  of  Awabia  have  their  own  chawiots.' 
I  have  often  thought,  sir  (this  clawet  is  weally  nectaweous), — • 
I  have  often,  I  say,  thought  that  the  wace  of  man  may  be  com- 
pawed  to  these  Awabian  sheep — genius  is  our  tail,  education 
our  wheelbawwow.  Without  art  and  education  to  pwop  it,  this 
genius  dwops  on  the  gwound,  and  is  polluted  by  the  mud,  or 
injured  by  the  wocks  upon  the  way  :  with  the  wheelbawwow  it 
is  stwengthened,  incweased,  and  supported —  a  pwide  to  tho 
owner,  a  blessing  to  mankind." 

"Avery  appropriate  simile,"  says  Sir  John;  "and  I  am 
afraid  that  the  genius  of  our  friend  Yellowplush  has  need  of 
some  such  support." 

"  Apropos,"  said  Bullwig,  "  who  is  Yellowplush  }  I  was  given 
to  understand  that  the  name  was  only  a  fictitious  one,  and  that 
the  papers  were  written  by  the  author  of  the  '  Diary  of  a  Physi- 
cian ; '  if  so,  the  man  has  wonderfully  improved  in  style,  and 
there  is  some  hope  of  him." 

"  Bah!  "  says  the  Duke  of  Doublejowl ;  "  everybody  knows 
it's  Barnard,  the  celebrated  author  of  '  Sam  Slick.'  " 

"  Pardon,  my  dear  duke,"  says  Lord  Bagwig ;  "  it's  the 
authoress  of  *  High  Life,'  *  Almack's,'  and  other  fashionable 
novels." 


Mk.  YELLOWPLUSWS  AJEW.  505 

"  Fiddlestick's  end  ! "  says  Doctor  Larner ; "  don't  be  blush- 
ing and  pretinding  to  ask  questions  :  don't  we  know  you,  Bull- 
wig  ?  It's  you  yourself,  you  thief  of  the  world  :  we  smoked  you 
from  the  very  beginning." 

Bullwig  was  about  indignantly  to  reply,  when  Sir  John  inter- 
rupted them,  and  said, — "I  must  correct  you  all,  gentle- 
men ;  Mr.  Yellowplush  is  no  other  than  Mr.  Yellowplush  :  he 
gave  you,  my  dear  Bullwig,  your  last  glass  of  champagne  at 
dinner,  and  is  now  an  inmate  of  my  house,  and  an  ornament  of 
my  kitchen  !  " 

"Gad  !  "  says  Doublejowl,  "let's  have  him  up." 

"  Hear,  hear  !  "  says  Bagwig. 

"Ah,  now,"  says  Larner,  "your  grace  is  not  going  to  call  up 
and  talk  to  a  footman,  sure  ?     Is  it  gintale  ?  " 

"To  say  the  least  of  it,"  says  Bullwig,  "the  pwactice  is 
iwwegular  and  indecowous  ;  and  I  weally  don't  see  how  the 
interview  can  be  in  any  way  pwofitable." 

But  the  vices  of  the  company  went  against  the  two  littery 
men,  and  everybody  excep  them  was  for  having  up  poor  me. 
The  bell  was  wrung  ;  butler  came.  "  Send  up  Charles,"  says 
master ;  and  Charles,  who  was  standing  behind  the  skreand, 
was  persnly  abliged  to  come  in. 

"  Charles,"  says  master,  "  I  have  been  telling  these  gentle- 
men who  is  the  author  of  the  '  Yellowplush  Correspondence'  in 
Fr user's  Magazine. ^^ 

"  It's  the  best  magazine  in  Europe,"  says  the  duke. 

"And  no  mistake,"  says  my  lord. 

"  Hwhat ! "  says  Larner ;  "  and  where's  the  Litherary 
Chran  ?  " 

I  said  myself  nothink,  but  made  a  bough,  and  blusht  like 
pickle-cabbitch. 

"  Mr.  Yellowplush,"  says  his  grace,  "  will  you,  in  the  first 
place,  drink  a  glass  of  wine  ?  " 

I  boughed  agin. 

"  And  what  wine  do  you  prefer,  sir  ?  humble  port  or  imperial 
burgundy  ?  " 

"Why,  your  grace,"  says  I,  "I  know  my  place,  and  ain't 
above  kitchin  wines.  I  will  take  a  glass  of  port,  and  drink  it  to 
the  health  of  this  honrabble  compny." 

When  I'd  swigged  off  the  bumper,  which  his  grace  himself 
did  me  the  honor  to  pour  out  for  me,  there  was  a  silints  for  a 
minnit ;  when  my  master  said  : — 

"Charles  Yellowplush,  I  have  perused  your  memoirs  in 
Fraser's  Magazine  with  so  much  curiosity,  and  have  so  high  an 


5o6        THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J    YELLOWPLUSH. 

opinion  of  your  talents  as  a  writer,  that  I  really  cannot  keep  you 
as  a  footman  any  longer,  or  allow  you  to  discharge  duties  for 
which  you  are  now  quite  unfit.  With  all  my  admiration  for  your 
talents,  Mr.  Yellowplush,  I  still  am  confident  that  many  of  your 
friends  in  the  servants'-hall  will  clean  my  boots  a  great  deal 
better  than  a  gentleman  of  your  genius  can  ever  be  expected  to 
do — it  is  for  this  purpose  I  employ  footmen,  and  not  that  they 
may  be  writing  articles  in  magazines.  But — you  need  not  look 
so  red,  my  good  fellow,  and  had  better  take  another  glass  of 
port — I  don't  wish  to  throw  you  upon  the  wide  world  without 
the  means  of  a  livelihood,  and  have  made  interest  for  a  little 
place  which  you  will  have  under  Government,  and  which  will 
give  you  an  income  of  eighty  pounds  per  annum  ;  which  you  can 
double,  I  presume,  by  your  literary  labors." 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  clasping  my  hands,  and  bursting  into  tears, 
"  do  not — for  heaven's  sake,  do  not ! — think  of  any  such  think, 
or  drive  me  from  your  suvvice,  because  I  have  been  fool  enough 
to  write  in  magaseens.  Glans  but  one  moment  at  your  honor's 
plate — every  spoon  is  as  bright  as  a  mirror  ;  condysend  to  igs- 
amine  your  shoes — your  honor  may  see  reflected  in  them  the 
fases  of  every  one  in  the  company.  /  blacked  them  shoes,  1 
cleaned  that  there  plate.  If  occasionally  I've  forgot  the  foot- 
man in  the  litterary  man,  and  committed  to  paper  my  remindi- 
cences  of  fashnabble  life,  it  was  from  a  sincere  desire  to  do 
good,  and  promote  nollitch  :  and  I  appeal  to  your  honor, — I 
lay  my  hand  on  my  busm,  and  in  the  fase  of  this  noble  company 
beg  you  to  say,  When  you  rung  your  bell,  who  came  to  you 
fust  ?  When  you  stopt  out  at  Brooke's  till  morning,  who  sat  up 
for  you  ?  When  you  was  ill,  who  forgot  the  natral  dignities  of 
his  station,  and  answered  the  two-pair  bell  ?  Oh,  sir,"  says  I, 
"  I  know  what's  what ;  don't  send  me  away.  I  know  them 
littery  chaps,  and,  beleave  me,  I'd  rather  be  a  footman.  The 
work's  not  so  hard — the  pay  is  better :  the  vittels  incompyrably 
supearor.  I  have  but  to  clean  my  things,  and  run  my  errints, 
and  you  put  clothes  on  my  back,  and  meat  in  my  mouth.  Sir  i 
Mr.  Bullwig !  an't  I  right?  shall  I  quit  7ny  station  and  sink — 
that  is  to  say,  rise — to  yours  ?  " 

Bullwig  was  violently  affected  ;  a  tear  stood  in  his  glisten- 
ing i.  "  Yellowplush,"  says  he,  seizing  my  hand,  "  you  are  right. 
Quit  not  your  present  occupation ;  black  boots,  clean  knives, 
wear  plush,  all  your  life,  but  don't  turn  literary  man.  Look  at 
me.  I  am  the  first  novelist.  I  have  ranged  with  eagle  wing 
over  the  wide  regions  of  literature,  and  perched  on  every 
eminence  in  its  turn.     I  have  gazed  with  eagle  eyes  on  the  sun 


MR.  YELLO^VPL'USirs  AJEW,  ^57 

of  philosophy,  and  fathomed  the  mysterious  depths  of  the 
human  mind.  All  languages  are  familiar  to  me,  all  thoughts 
are  known  to  me,  all  men  understood  by  me.  I  have  gathered 
wisdom  from  the  honeyed  lips  of  Plato,  as  we  wandered  in  the 
gardens  of  Acadames — wisdom,  too,  from  the  mouth  of  Job 
Johnson,  as  we  smoked  our  'backy  in  Seven  Dials.  Such  must 
be  the  studies,  and  such  is  the  mission,  in  this  world,  of  the 
Poet-Philosopher.  But  the  knowledge  is  only  emptiness  ;  the 
imitation  is  but  misery  ;  the  initiated,  a  man  shunned  and 
bann'd  by  his  fellows.  Oh,"  said  Bullwig,  clasping  his  hands, 
and  throwing  his  fine  i's  up  to  the  chandelier,  "  the  curse  of 
Pwometheus  descends  upon  his  wace.  Wath  and  punishment 
pursue  them  from  genewation  to  genewation  !  Wo  to  genius,  the 
heaven-sealer,  the  fire-stealer!  Wo  and  thrice  bitter  desola- 
tion !  Earth  is  the  wock  on  which  Zeus,  wemorseless,  stwetches 
his  withing  victim — men,  the  vultures  that  feed  and  fatten  on 
him.  Ai,  Ai !  it  is  agony  eternal — gwoaning  and  solitawy 
despair  !  And  you,  Yellowplush,  would  penetwate  these  myste- 
wies  :  you  would  waise  the  awful  veil,  and  stand  in  the  twenien- 
dous  Pwesence.  Beware ;  as  you  value  your  peace,  beware  ; 
Withdwaw,  wash  Neophyte  !  For  heaven's  sake — O  for  heaven's 
sake  ! — "  here  he  looked  round  with  agony — "  give  me  a  glass 
of  bwandy-and-water,  for  this  clawet  is  beginning  to  disagwee 
with  me." 

Bullwig  having  concluded  this  spitch,  very  much  to  his  own 
sattasfackshn,  looked  round  to  the  compny  for  aplaws,  and 
then  swigged  off  the  glass  of  brandy-and-water,  giving  a  solium 
sigh  as  he  took  the  last  gulph  ;  and  then  Doctor  Ignatius,  who 
longed  for  a  chans,  and,  in  order  to  show  his  independence, 
began  flatly  contradicting  his  friend,  addressed  me,  and  the 
rest  of  the  genlmn  present,  in  the  following  manner : 

"  Hark  ye,"  says  he,  "  my  gossoon,  doan't  be  led  asthray 
by  the  nonsinse  of  that  divil  of  a  Bullwig.  He's  jillous  of  ye, 
my  bhoy :  that's  the  rale,  undoubted  thruth  ;  and  it's  only  to 
keep  you  out  of  litherary  life  that  he's  palavering  you  in  this 
way.  I'll  tell  you  what — Plush  ye  blackguard, — my  honorable 
friend  the  mimber  there  has  told  me  a  hunder  times  by  the 
smallest  computation,  of  his  intense  admiration  of  your  talents, 
and  the  wonderful  sthir  they  were  making  in  the  world.  He 
can't  bear  a  rival.  He's  mad  with  envy,  hatred,  oncharatable- 
ness.  Look  at  him.  Plush,  and  look  at  me.  My  father  was 
not  a  juke  exactly,  nor  aven  a  markis,  and  see,  nevertheliss,  to 
what  a  pitch  I  am  come.  I  spare  no  ixpinse ;  I'm  the  iditor 
of  a  cople  of  pariodicals ;  I  dthrive  about  in  me  carridge ;  I 


^oS         THE  AtEMOtRS  OP  Mk.  C.  J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

dine  wid  the  lords  of  the  land  ;  and  why — in  the  name  of  the 
piper  that  pleed  before  Mosus,  hwy  ?  Because  I'm  a  litherary 
man.  Because  I  know  how  to  play  me  cards.  Because  I'm 
Docther  Larner,  in  fact,  and  mimber  of  every  society  in  and 
out  of  Europe.  I  might  have  remained  all  my  life  in  Thrinity 
Colledge,  and  never  made  such  an  incom  as  that  offered  you 
by  Sir  Jan  ;  but  I  came  to  London — to  London,  my  boy,  and 
now  see  !  Look  again  at  me  friend  Bullwig.  He  is  a  gentle- 
man, to  be  sure,  and  bad  luck  to  'im,  say  I ;  and  what  has  been 
the  result  of  his  litherary  labor  ?  I'll  tell  you  what ;  and  I'll 
tell  this  gintale  society,  by  the  shade  of  Saint  Patrick,  they're 
going  to  make  him  a  barinet," 

■  "  A  Barnet,  Doctor  !  "  says  I  ;  "  you  don't  mean  to  say 
they're  going  to  make  him  a  barnet !  " 

"As  sure  as  I've  made  meself  a  docthor,"  says  Larner. 

"  What,  a  baronet,  like  Sir  John  ?  " 

"The  divle  a  bit  else." 

"  And  pray  what  for  ? " 

"Whatfaw?"  says  Bullwig.  "  Ask  the  histowy  of  litwatuwe 
what  faw }  Ask  Colburn,  ask  Bentley,  ask  Saunders  and  Otley, 
ask  the  gweat  Bwitish  nation,  what  faw  ?  The  blood  in  my 
veins  comes  puwified  thwough  ten  thousand  years  of  chival- 
wous  ancestwy  ;  but  that  is  neither  here  nor  there  :  my  political 
principles — the  equal  wights  which  I  have  advocated — the 
gweat  cause  of  fweedom  that  I  have  celebwated,  are  known  to 
all.  But  this,  I  confess,  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  question. 
No,  the  question  is  this — on  the  thwone  of  liteweture  I  stand 
unwivalled,  pwe-eminent  ;  and  the  Bwitish  government,  hon- 
owing  genius  in  me,  compliments  the  Bwitish  nation  by  lifting 
into  the  bosom  of  the  heweditawy  nobility  the  most  gifted 
member  of  the  democwacy."  (The  honrabble  genlm  here  sunk 
down  amidst  repeated  cheers.) 

"  Sir  John,"  says  I,  "  and  my  lord  duke,  the  words  of  my 
rivrint  frend  Ignatius,  and  the  remarks  of  the  honrabble  genlmn 
who  has  just  sate  down,  have  made  me  change  the  detummin- 
ation  which  I  had  the  honor  of  igspressing  just  now. 

"  I  igsept  the  eighty  pound  a  year  ;  knowing  that  I  shall 
have  plenty  of  time  for  pursuing  my  littery  career,  and  hoping 
some  day  to  set  on  that  same  bentch  of  barranites,  which  is 
deckarated  by  the  presnts  of  my  honrabble  friend. 

"  Why  shooden  I  ?  It's  trew  I  ain't  done  anythink  as  yet  to 
deserve  such  an  honor ;  and  it's  very  probable  that  I  never 
shall.  But  what  then  ? — quaxv  dong,  as  our  friends  say  ?  I'd 
much  rayther  have   a  coat-of-arms  than  a  coat  of  livry.     I'd 


MR.   YELLOWPLUSH':i  A  JEW.  ^og 

much  rayther  have  my  blud-red  hand  spralink  in  the  middle  of 
a  shield,  than  underneath  a  tea-tray.  A  barranit  I  will  be  j 
and,  in  consiquints,  must  cease  to  be  a  footmin. 

"As  to  my  politticle  princepills,  these,  I  confess,  ain't 
settled  :  they  are,  I  know,  necessary :  but  they  ain't  necessary 
utitil  askt for ;  besides,  I  reglar  read  the  Sattarist  newspaper, 
and  so  ignirince  on  this  pint  would  be  inigscusable. 

"  But  if  one  man  can  git  to  be  a  doctor,  and  another  a 
barranit,  and  another  a  capting  in  the  navy,  and  another  a 
countess,  and  another  the  wife  of  a  governor  of  the  Cape  o/ 
Good  Hope,  I  begin  to  perseave  that  the  littery  trade  ain't 
such  a  very  bad  un ;  igspecially  if  you're  up  to  snough,  and 
know  what's  o'clock.  I'll  learn  to  make  myself  usefle,  in  the 
fust  place;  then  I'll  larn  to  spell;  and,  I  trust,  by  reading  the 
novvles  of  the  honrabble  member,  and  the  scientafick  treatiseses 
of  the  reverend  doctor,  I  may  find  the  secrit  of  suxess,  and  git 
a  litell  for  my  own  share.  I've  sevral  frends  in  the  press, 
having  paid  for  many  of  those  chaps'  drink,  and  given  them 
other  treets  ;  and  so  I  think  I've  got  all  the  emilents  of  suxess  ; 
therefore,  I  am  detummined,  as  I  said,  to  igsept  your  kind 
offer,  and  beg  to  withdraw  the  wuds  which  I  made  yous  of 
when  I  refyoused  your  hoxpatable  offer.     I  must,  however — " 

"I  wish  you'd  withdraw  yourself,"  said  Sir  John,  bursting 
into  a  most  igstrorinary  rage,  "  and  not  interrupt  the  company 
with  your  infernal  talk !  Go  down,  and  get  us  coffee  :  and, 
heark  ye !  hold  your  impertinent  tongue,  or  I'll  break  every 
bone  in  your  body.  You  shall  have  the  place,  as  I  said ;  and 
while  you're  in  my  service,  you  shall  be  my  servant ;  but  you 
don't  stay  in  my  service  after  to-morrow.  Go  down  stairs,  sir ; 
and  don't  stand  staring  here  !  " 

In  this  abrupt  way,  my  evening  ended :  it's  with  a  melan- 
choly regret  that  I  think  what  came  of  it.  I  don't  wear  plush 
any  more.     I  am  an  altered,  a  wiser,  and,  I  trust,  a  better  man, 

I'm  about  a  novvle  (having  made  great  progriss  in  spelling), 
in  the  style  of  my  friend  Bullwig  ;  and  preparing  for  publiga- 
tion,  in  the  Doctor's  Cyclopedear,  "  The  Lives  of  Eminent 
Brittish  and  Foring  Wosherwomen." 


5IO  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 


SKIMMINGS    FROM    "THE    DIARY   OF 
GEORGE    IV." 

CHARLES   YELLOWPLUSH,    ESQ.,    TO    OLIVER   YORKE,    ESQ  *  ''■■ 

Dear  Why, — Takin  advantage  of  the  Crismiss  holydays, 
Sir  John  and  me  (who  is  a  member  of  parlyment)  had  gone 
down  to  our  place  in  Yorkshire  for  six  weeks,  to  shoot  grows 
and  woodcox,  and  enjoy  old  English  hospitalaty.  This  ugly 
Canady  bisniss  unluckaly  put  an  end  to  our  sports  in  the  coun- 
try, and  brot  us  up  to  Buckly  Square  as  fast  as  four  posterses 
could  gallip.  When  there,  I  found  your  parcel,  containing  the 
two  vollumes  of  a  new  book  ;  witch,  as  I  have  been  away  from 
the  literary  world,  and  emplied  solely  in  athlatic  exorcises,  have 
been  laying  neglected  in  my  pantry,  among  my  knife-cloaths, 
and  dekanters,  and  blacking-bottles,  and  bedroom  candles,  and 
things. 

This  will,  I'm  sure,  account  for  my  delay  in  notussing  the 
work.  I  see  sefral  of  the  papers  and  magazeens  have  been 
befoarhand  with  me,  and  have  given  their  apinions  concerning 
it ;  specially  the  Quotly  Revew,  which  has  most  mussilessly  cut 
to  peases  the  author  of  this  Dairy  of  the  Times  of  George  /Kf 

That  it's  a  woman  that  wrote  it  is  evydent  from  the  style  of 
the  writing,  as  well  as  from  certain  proofs  in  the  book  itself. 
Most  suttnly  a  femail  wrote  this  Dairy;  but  who  this  Dairy- 
maid may  be,  I,  in  coarse,  can't  conjecter :  and,  indeed,  com- 
mon galliantry  forbids  me  to  ask.  I  can  only  judge  of  the 
book  itself ;  which,  it  appears  to  me,  is  clearly  trenching  upon 
my  ground  and  favrite  subjicks,  viz.,  fashnabble  life,  as  igsibited 
in  the  houses  of  the  nobility,  gentry,  and  rile  fammly. 

But  I  bare  no  mallis  —  infamation  is  infamation,  and  it 
doesn't  matter  where  the  infamy  comes  from  ;  and  whether  the 
Dairy  be  from  that  distinguished  pen  to  witch  it  is  ornarily 
attributed — whether,  I  say,  it  comes  from  a  lady  of  honor  to 

*  These  Memoirs  were  originally  published  in  Fraser's  Magazine,  and  it  may  be  stated 
for  the  benefit  of  the  unlearned  in  such  matters,  that  "  Oliver  Yorke  "  is  the  assumed  name 
of  the  editor  of  that  periodical.  .,     ■  ,       ^         j      -,7   ^    ■    ■     l 

t  Diary  illustrative  of  the  Times  of  George  the  Fourth,  interspersed  with  Original 
Letters  from  the  late  Queen  Caroline,  and  from  various  other  distinguished  Person^. 

"  Tot  ou  tard,  tout  se  sfait."— Maintenon. 

In  2  vols.    London,  1838.    Henry  Colburn. 


SKIMMINGS  FROM  THE  ''DIARY  OF  GEORGE  IV."    511 

the  late  quean,  or  a  scullion  to  that  diffunct  majisty,  no  matter: 
all  we  ask  is  noUidge ;  never  mind  how  we  have  it.  NoUidge. 
as  our  cook  says,  is  like  trikel-possit — it's  always  good,  though 
you  was  to  drink  it  out  of  an  old  shoo. 

Well,  then,  although  this  Dairy  is  likely  searusly  to  injur 
my  pussonal  intrests,  by  fourstalling  a  deal  of  what  I  had  to 
say  in  my  private  memoars — though  many,  many  guineas,  is 
taken  from  my  pockit,  by  cuttin  short  the  tail  of  my  narratif-^ 
though  much  that  I  had  to  say  in  souperior  languidge,  greased 
with  all  the  ellygance  of  my  oiytory,  the  benefick  of  my  classcle 
reading,  the  chawms  of  my  agreble  wit,  is  thus  abruply  brot 
befor  the  world  by  an  inferior  genus,  neither  knowing  nor 
writing  English  ;  yet  I  say,  that  nevertheless  I  must  say, 
what  I  am  pufifickly  prepaired  to  say,  to  gainsay  which  no 
man  can  say  a  word  —  yet  I  say,  that  I  say  I  consider  this 
publication  welkom.  Far  from  viewing  it  with  enfy,  I  greet 
it  with  applaws ;  because  It  increases  that  most  exlent  spe- 
cious of  nollidge,  I  mean  "  Fashnabble  Nollidge  : "  com- 
payred  to  witch  all  other  nollidge  is  nonsince — a  bag  of  goold 
to  a  pare  of  snuffers. 

Could  Lord  Broom,  on  the  Canady  question,  say  moar?  or 
say  what  he  had  tu  say  better  ?  We  are  marters,  both  of  us,  to 
prinsple  ;  and  every  body  who  knows  eather  knows  that  we 
would  sacrafice  anythink  rather  than  that.  Fashion  is  the 
goddiss  I  adoar.  This  delightful  work  is  an  offring  on  her 
srine  ;  and  as  sich  all  her  wushippers  are  bound  to  hail  it. 
Here  is  not  a  question  of  trumpry  lords  and  honrabbles, 
generals  and  barronites,  but  the  crown  itself,  and  the  king 
and  queen's  actions ;  witch  may  be  considered  as  the  crown 
jewels.  Here's  princes,  and  grand-dukes  and  airsparent,  and 
heaven  knows  what ;  all  with  blood-royal  in  their  veins,  and 
their  names  mentioned  in  the  very  fust  page  of  the  peeridge. 
In  this  book  you  become  so  intmate  with  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
that  you  may  follow  him,  if  you  please,  to  his  marridge-bed ; 
or,  if  you  prefer  the  Princiss  Charlotte,  you  may  have  with  her 
an  hour's  tator-tator.* 

Now,  though  most  -of  the  remarkable  extrax  from  this 
book  have  been  given  already  (the  cream  of  the  Dairy,  as  I 
wittily  say),  I  shall  trouble  you,  nevertheless,  with  a  few  ;  partly 
because  they  can't  be  repeated  too  often,  and  because  the  toan 
of  obsyvation  with  which  they  have  been  genrally  received  by 
the  press  is  not  igsackly  such  as  I  think  they  merit.     How  in- 

*  Our  estimable  correspondent  means,  we  presume,  tite-a-tUe. — O.  Y. 


512         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

deed,  can  these  common  magaseen  and  newspaper  pipple  kno'W 
anything  of  fashnabble  life,  let  alone  ryal  ? 

Conseaving,  then,  that  the  publication  of  the  Dairy  has 
done  reel  good  on  this  scoar,  and  may  probly  do  a  deal  moor, 
I  shall  look  through  it,  for  the  porpus  of  selecting  the  most 
ellygant  passidges,  and  which  I  think  may  be  peculiarly  adapted 
to  the  reader's  benefick. 

For  you  see,  my  dear  Mr.  Yorke,  that  in  the  fust  place,  that 
this  is  no  common  catchpny  book,  like  that  of  most  authors  and 
authoresses  who  write  for  the  base  looker  of  gain.  Heaven 
bless  you  !  the  Dairy-maid  is  above  anything  musnary.  She  is 
a  woman  of  rank,  and  no  mistake  ;  and  is  as  much  above  doin 
a  common  or  vulgar  action  as  I  am  superaor  to  taking  beer  after 
dinner  with  my  cheese.  She  proves  that  most  satisfackarily,  as 
we  see  in  the  following  passidge  : — 

"  Her  royal  highness  came  to  me,  and  having  spoken  a  few  phrases  on  different  «ut)- 
jects,  produced  all  the  papers  she  wishes  to  have  published :  her  whole  correspondence  with 

the  prince  relative  to  Lady  J 's  dismissal ;  his  subsequent  neglect  of  the  princess  ;  and, 

finally,  the  acquittal  of  her  supposed  guilt,  signed  by  the  Duke  of  Portland,  &c.,  at  the  time 
of  the  secret  inquiry  :  when,  if  proof  could  have  been  brought  against  her,  it  certainly  would 
have  been  done  ;  and  which  acquittal,  to  the  disgrace  of  all  parties  concerned,  as  well  as  to 
the  justice  of  the  nation  in  general,  was  not  made  public  at  the  time.  A  common  criminal  ia 
publicly  condemned  or  acquitted.  Her  royal  highness  commanded  me  to  have  these  letters 
published  forthwith,  saying,  '  You  may  sell  them  for  a  great  sum.'  At  first  (for  she  had 
spoken  to  me  before  concerning  this  business),  I  thought  of  availing  myself  of  the  oppor* 
tunity  ;  but  upon  second  thoughts,  I  turned  from  this  idea  with  detestation  :  for,  if  I  do 
wrong  by  obeying  her  wishes  and  endeavoring  to  serve  her,  I  will  do  so  at  least  from  good 
and  disinterested  motives,  not  from  any  sordid  views.  The  princess  commands  me,  and  I 
will  obey  her,  whatever  may  be  the  issue  ;  but  not  for  fare  or  fee.  I  own  I  tremble,  not  so 
much  for  myself,  as  for  the  idea  that  she  is  not  taking  the  best  and  most  dignified  way  of 
having  these  papers  published.  Why  make  a  secret  of  it  at  all  ?  If  wrong,  it  should  not  be 
done  ;  if  right  it  should  be  done  openly,  and  in  the  face  of  her  enemies.  In  her  royal  high- 
ness's-case,  as  in  that  of  wronged  princes  in  general,  why  do  they  shrink  from  straight- 
forward dealings,  and  rather  have  recourse  to  crooked  policy?  I  wish,  in  this  particular  in- 
stance, I  could  make  her  royal  highness  feel  thus:  but  she  is  naturally  indignant  at  being 
falsely  accused,  and  will  not  condescend  to  an  avowed  explanation." 

Can  anythink  be  more  just  and  honrabble  than  this  ?  The 
Dairy-lady  is  quite  fair  and  abovebored.  A  clear  stage,  says 
she,  and  no  favior  !  "  I  won't  do  behind  my  back  what  I  am 
ashamed  of  before  my  face  :  not  I  !  "  No  more  she  does  ;  for 
you  see  that,  though  she  was  offered  this  manyscripby  the  prin- 
cessy^r  noth'mk,  though  she  knew  that  she  could  actially  get  for 
it  a  large  suni  of  money,  she  was  above  it,  like  an  honest,  noble, 
grateful,  fashnabble  woman,  as  she  was.  She  aboars  secrecy, 
and  never  will  have  recors  to  disguise  orcrookid  polacy.  This 
ought  to  be  an  ansure  to  them  Radicle  sneezers,  who  pretend 
that  they  are  the  equals  of  fashnabble  pepple ;  whereas  it's  a 
well-known  fact,  that  the  vulgar  roagues  have  no  notion  of 
honor. 

And  after  this  positif  declaration,  which  reflex  honor  on  hef 


SKIMMINGS  FROM  THE  "  DIAR\    OF  GEORGE  IVr 


5^3 


ladyship  (long  life  to  her !  I've  often  waited  behind  her  chair !) 
— after  this  posilif  declaration,  that,  even  for  the  porpus  of 
defending  her  missis,  she  was  so  hi-minded  as  to  refuse  anythink 
like  a  peculiarly  consideration,  it  is  actially  asserted  in  the  pub- 
lic prints  by  a  booxeller,  that  he  has  given  hercz  thousand  pound 
for  the  Dairy.  A  thousand  pound!  n-on since  ! — it's  a  phig- 
ment !  a  base  lible  !  This  woman  take  a  thousand  pound,  in  a 
matter  where  her  dear  mistriss,  friend,  and  benyfactriss  v,;:s 
concerned  i  Never  !  A  thousaiid  baggonits  would  be  more 
prefrabble  to  a  woman  of  her  xqizzit  feelins  and  fashion. 

But  to  proseed.  It's  been  objected  to  me,  when  I  wrote 
some  of  my  expearvmces  in  fashnabble  life,  that  my  languidge 
was  occasionally  vulgar,  and  not  such  as  rs  generally  used  in 
those  exquizzit  famlies  which  I  frequent.  Now,  I'll  lay  a  wager 
that  there  is  in  this  book,  wrote  as  all  the  world  knows,  by  a 
rele  lady,  and  speakin  of  kings  and  queens  as  If  they  were  as 
common  as  sand-boys — there  is  in  this  book  more  wulgarity 
than  ever  I  displayed,  more  nastiness  than  ever  I  would  dare 
io  think  on.,  and  more  bad  grammar  than  ever  I  wrote  since  I 
was  a  boy  at  school.  As  for  authografy,  evry  genlmn  has  his 
own  :  never  mind  spellin,  I  say,  so  long  as  the  sence  is  right. 

Let  me  here  quot  a  letter  from  a  corryspondent  of  this 
channing  lady  of  honor  ;  and  a  very  nice  corryspondent  he  is_, 
too,  without  any  mistake: 

"  Lady  O — ,  poor  Lady  O 1  1<novvs  tlie  rules  of  prudence,  I  fear  me,  as  inv 

perfectly  as  she  doth  those  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  Grammars :  or  she  hath  let  her  brother, 
who  is  a -sad  swine,  become  master  of  her  secrets,  and  then  contrived  to  quarrel  witli  him. 
You  would  see  the  outline  of  the  fiiHange  in  the  newspapers.;  but  nol  the  reoort  that  Mr 

S is  about  to  publish  a  pampTilet,  as  an  addition  to  the  Harleian  Tracts,  setting  forth 

<he  amatory  adventures  of  his  sister.  We  shall  break  our  necks  in  haste  to  buy  it,  of  course 
crying  '  Shameful '  all  the  while  ;  and  it  is  said  that  Lady  O is -to  be  cut,  which  1  can- 
riot  entirely  believe.  Let  her  tell  two  or  three  old  women  about  town  that  they  are  yourif, 
and  handsome,  and  give  some  well-timed  parties,  and  she  may  still  keep  tlie  society  which 
she  hath  been  used  to.  The  times  are  not  so  hard  as  they  once  were,  when  a  woman  could 
irot  construe  Magna  Charta  with  anything  like  impunity.  People  were  full  as  gallant  n'.ar.y 
•years  ago.  But  the  days  are  gone  by  wherein  my  lord-protector  of  the  conMiionwealtU  of 
England  was  wont  to  go  a  love-making  to  Mrs.  Fleetwood,  with  the  Bible  under  his  arm. 

"  And  so  Miss  JackyGordon  is  really  clothed  witli  a  husband  at  ?ast,  and  Miss  Laura 
IManners  left  without  a  mate  !  She  and  Lord  Stair  should  marry  and  have  children,  in  niL-it 
revenge.  As  to  Miss  Oorden,  she''s  a  Venus  well  suited  for  such  a  Vulcan, — whom  notliirg 
but  money  and  a  title  could  have  rendered  tolerable,  even  to  a  kitchen  wencli.  It  is  said  that 
the  matrimonial  correspondence  between  this  couple  is.to  be  published,  full  of  sad  scandalous 
relations,  of  which  you  may  be  sure  scarcely  a  word  is  true.     In  former  times,  the  Ducheis 

of  St.  A s  made -use  of  these  elegant  ei>istles  in  order  to  intimidate  Lady  Johnstor.o-r- 

but  that  ricse  would  not  avail  ;  so  in  spite,  they  are  to  be  printed.  What  a  cargo  i  J[ 
amiable  creatures'!  Yet  will  some  people  scarcely  believe  in  the  existence  cf  Panc.L- 
anonium. 

"  Tuesday  Morning. — You  are  perfectly  right  respecting  the  hot  rooms  liere,  which  w;' 
ail  cry  otit  against,  and  all  find  very  comfortable — much  jnore  so  than  the  •cold  -.sands  r.i.d 
•bleak  neighborhood  of  the  sea  ;  which  looks  vastly  well  in  one  of  Vander  Vulde's  pictures 

hung  upon  crimson  damask,  but  hideous  and  shocking  in  reality.     H and  his '(/.>' 

(talking  of  parties)  were  last  night  at  (Jholmondeley  House,  but  seem  not  to  ripen  in  tlieii 
love.  He  is  certainly  good-humored,  and  I  believe,  good-hearted,  so  deserves  a  good  wife  ,' 
lnut  kie  <</>■&  seems  a  g-enuine  London  tniss,  made  up  of  many  affectatior.s.     Will  she  form  e 


514         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

comfortable  helpmate?  For  me,  I  like  not  her  origin,  and  deem  many  strange  things  ta 
run  in  blood,  besides  madness  and  tlie  Hanoverian  evil. 

"  Thursday. — I  verily  do  believe  that  I  shall  never  get  to  the  end  of  this  small  sheet 
of  paper,  so  many  unheard  of  interruptions  have  I  had  ;  and  now  I  have  been  to  Vauxhall, 

and  caught  the  toothache.     I  was  of  Lady  E.  B m  and  H— ■ 's  party  :  very  dull— 

the  Lady  giving  us  all  a  supper  after  our  promenade— 

'  Much  ado  was  there,  God  wot 
She  would  love,  but  he  v/ould  not- 

He  ate  a  great  deal  of  ice,  although  he  did  not  seem  to  require  it ;  and  she  'faisoit  hs yetist 
ttoux '  enough  not  only  to  have  melted  all  the  ice  which  he  swallowed,  but  his  own  hard 
heart  into  the  bargain.  The  thing  will  not  do.  In  the  meantime,  Miss  Long  hath  become 
quite  cruel  to  Wellesley  Pole,  and  divides  her  favor  eqiully  between  Lords  Killeen  and  Kil- 
worth,  two  as  simple  Irishmen  as  ever  gave  birth  to  a  bull.  I  wish  to  Hymen  that 
siie  were  fairly  married,  for  all  this  pother  gives  one  a  disgusting  picture  of  human.- 
nature." 

A  disgusting  pictur-  of  human  nature,  indeed — ^and  isn't  he 
who  moralizes  about  it,  and  she  to  whom  lie  writes,  a  couple  of 
pretty  heads  in  the  same  piece }  Which,  Mr.  Yorke,  is  the  wust^ 
the  scandle  or  the  scaadle-mongers  i*  See  what  it-  is  to  be  a 
moral  man  of  fashn.  Fust,  he  scrapes  togither  all  the  bad 
stoaries  about  all  the  people  of  his  acquentance — he  goes  to  a 
ball,  and  laffs  or  snears  at  everybody  there — he  is  asked  to  a 
dinner,  and  brings  away,  along  with  meat  and  wine  to  his 
heart's  content,  a  sour  stomick  filled  with  nasty  stories  of  all. 
tlie  jDCople  present  there.  He  has  such  a  squeamish  appytite, 
that  all  the  world  seem  to  disagree  with  him.  And  what  has  he 
got  to  say  to  his  dellicate  female  frend  ?     Why  that — 

Fust.  Mr.  S.  is  going  to  publish  indescent  stoaries  about 
Lady  O^ ,  his  sister,  which  everybody's  going  to  by. 

Nex.  That  Miss  Gordon  is  going  to  be  cloathed  with  an 
usband  ;  and  that  all  their  matrimonial  corryspondins  is  to  be 
published  too. 

3.  That  Lord  H.  is  going  to  be  married  ;  but  there's  some- 
thing rong  in  his  wife's  blood. 

4.  Miss  Long  has  cut  Mr.  Wellesley,  and  is  gone  after  two 
Irish  lords. 

Wooden  you  phancy,  now,  that  the  author  of  such  a  letter,, 
instead  of  writin  about  pipple  of  tip-top  qualaty,  was  describin 
Vinegar  Yard  ?  Would  you  beleave  that  the  lady  he  was  a-ritin 
to  was  a  chased,  modist  lady  of  honor, and  mother  of  a  family.? 
O  trumpery !  O  morris !  as  Homer  says  :  this  is  a  higeous 
pictur  of  manners,  such  as  I  weap  to  think  of,  as  evrymori  mart 
must  weap. 

The  above  is  one  pritty  pictur  of  mearly  fashnabble  life: 
what  follows  is  about  families  even  higher  situated  than  the 
most  fashnabble.  Here  we  have  the  princess- regient,  her 
daughter  the  Princess  Sharlot,  her  grandmamma  the  old  quean. 


SKIMMINGS  FROM  THE  ''DIARY  OF  GEORGE  IVr 


515 


and  her  madjisty's  daughters  the  two  princesses.  If  this  is  not 
high  life,  I  don't  know  where  it  is  to  be  found  ;  and  it's  pleasing 
to  see  what  affeckshn  and  harmny  rains  in  sucli  an  exolted 
spear. 

"Sunday  i^th. — Yesterday,  the  princess  went  to   meet  the  Princess  Charlotte  at  Ken- 

snigton.     Lady told  me  that,  when  the  latter  arrived,  she  rushed  up  to  her  mother,  and 

said,  '  For  God's  sake,  be  civil  to  her,'  meanmg  the  Duchess  of  Leeds,  who  followed  her. 

L;idy said  she  felt  sorry  for  the  latter  ;  but  when  the  Princess  of  Wales  talked   to  her, 

she  soon  became  so  free  and  easy,  that  one  could  not  have  ?L.\\y  feeling  about  \ie.x  feelings. 
I'rincess  Charlotte,  I  was  told,  was  looking  handsome,  very  pale,  but  her  head  more 
becomingly  dressed, — that  is  to  say,  less  dressed  than  usual.  Her  figure  is  of  that  full 
round  shape  which  is  now  in  its  prime  ;  but  she  disfigures  herself  by  wearing  her  boddice 
so  short,  that  she  literally  has  no  waist.  Her  feet  are  very  pretty  ;  and  so  are  her  hands 
and  arms,  and  her  ears,  and  the  shape  of  her  head.  Her  countenance  is  expressive,  when 
she  allows  her  passions  to   play  upon   it ;   and  I  never  saw  any  face,  with  so   little   shade, 

express   so  many  powerful  and  varied   emotions.      Lady told  me    that   the    Princess 

("harlotte  talked  to  her  about  her  situation,  and  said,  in  a  very  quiet,  but  determined  way, 
she  luould  not  bear  it,  and  that  as  soon  as  parliament  met,  she  intended  to  come  to  Warwick 
House,  and  remain  there  ;  that  she  was  also  determined  not  to  consider  the  Duchess  of 
Leeds  as  \\sx  governess  but  only  as  \\&x first  lady.  She  made  many  observations  on  other 
persons  and  subjects ;  and  appears  to  be  very  quick,  very  penetrating,  but  imperious  and 
wilful.  There  is  a  tone  of  romance,  too,  in  her  character,  which  will  only  serve  to  mislead 
her. 

"  She  told  her  mother  that  there  had  been  a  great  battle  at  Windsor  between  the  queen 
and  the  prince,  the  former  refusing  to  give  up  Miss  Knight  from  her  own  person  to  attend 
on  Princess  Charlotte  as  sub-governess.  But  the  prince-regent  had  gone  to  Windsor  him- 
self, and  insisted  on  her  doing  so  ;  and  the  '  old  i?eguin  '  was  forced  to  submit,  but  has 
been  ill  ever  since :  and  Sir  Henry  Halford  declared  it  was  a  complete  breaking  up  of  her 
Constitution — to  the  great  delight  of  the  two  princesses,  who  were  talking  about  this  affair. 
Miss  Knight  was  the  very  person  they  wished  to  have  ;  they  think  they  can  do  as  they  like 
with  her.  It  has  been  ordered  that  the  Princess  Charlotte  should  not  see  her  mother  alone 
for  a  single  moment  ;  but  the  latter  went  into  her  room,  stuffed  a  pair  of   large   shoes  full 

of  papers,  and  having   given   them  to  her  daughter,   she  went  home.     Lady told  me 

everything  was  written  down  and  sent  to  Mr.  Brougham  next  day." 

See  what  discord  will  creap  even  into  the  best  regulated 
famlies.  Here  are  six  of  'em — viz.,  the  quean  and  her  two 
daughters,  her  son,  and  his  wife  and  daughter ;  and  the  manner 
in  which  they  hate  one  another  is  a  compleat  puzzle. 


(  his  mother. 


The  Prince  hates -l  his  wife. 

(  his  daughter. 

Princess  Charlotte  hates  her  father. 

Princess  of  Wales  hates  her  husband. 

The  old  quean,  by  their  squobbles,  is  on  the  pint  of  death ; 
and  her  two  jewtiful  daughters  are  delighted  at  the  news.  What  a 
happy,  fashnabble,  Christian  famly  !  O  Mr.  Yorke,  Mr.  Yorke, 
if  this  is  the  way  in  the  drawin-rooms,  I'm  quite  content  to  live 
below,  in  pease  and  charaty  with  all  men ;  writin,  as  I  am  now, 
in  my  pantry,  or  els  havin  a  quite  game  at  cards  in  the  servants- 
all.  \Vith  lis  there's  no  bitter,  wicked,  quarling  of  this  sort. 
We  don't  hate  our  children,  or  bully  our  mothers,  or  wish  'em 
ded  when  they're  sick,  as   this   Dairywoman  says  kings  and 


5i6         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

queens  do.  When  we're  writing  to  our  friends  or  sweethearts, 
%vc  don't  fill  our  letters  with  nasty  stoaries,  takin  away  the 
carricter  of  our  fellow-servants,  as  this  maid  of  honor's  amusin' 
moral  frend  does.  But,  in  coarse,  it's  not  for  us  to  judge  of 
our  betters  ; — these  great  people  are  a  supeerur  race,  and  we 
can't  comprehend  their  ways. 

Do  you  recklect — it's  twenty  years  ago  now — how  a  bewtififle 
princess  died  in  givin  buth  to  a  poar  baby,  and  how  the  whole 
nation  of  Hengland  wep,  as  though  it  was  one  man,  over  that 
sweet  woman  and  child,  in  which  were  sentered  the  hopes  of 
every  one  of  us,  and  of  which  each  was  as  proud  as  of  his  own 
wife  or  infnt .''  Do  you  recklect  how  pore  fellows  spent  their 
last  shillin  to  buy  a  black  crape  for  their  hats,  and  clergymen 
cried  in  the  pulpit,  and  the  whole  country  through  was  no  better 
than  a  great  dismal  funeral  ?  Do  you  recklect,  Mr.  Yorke,  who 
was  the  person  that  we  all  took  on  so  about  ?  We  called  her 
the  Princis  Sharlot  of  Wales  ;  and  we  valyoud  a  single  drop  of 
her  blood  more  than  the  whole  heartless  body  of  her  father. 
Well,  we  looked  up  to  her  as  a  kind  of  saint  or  angle,  and  blest 
God  (such  foolish  loyal  English  pipple  as  we  ware  in  those  days) 
who  had  sent  this  sweet  lady  to  rule  over  us.  But  heaven 
bless  you  !  it  was  only  souperstition.  She  was  no  better  than 
she  should  be,  as  it  turns  out — or  at  least  the  Dairy-maid  says 
so.  No  better  ? — if  my  daughters  or  yours  was  \  so  bad,  we'd 
as  leaf  be  dead  ourselves,  and  they  hanged.  But  listen  to  this 
pritty  charritable  story,  and  a  truce  to  refiexshuns  : — 

'^Sunday,  January  g,  1814. — Yesterday,  according  to  appointment,  I  went  to  Princess 
Charlotte.  Found  at  Warwick  House  tlie  harp-player,  Dizzi  ;  was  asked  to  remain  and 
listen  to  his  performance,  but  was  talked  to  during  the  whole  time,  which  completely  pre- 
vented all  possibility  of  listening  to  the  music.  The  Duchess  of  Leeds  and  her  daughter 
were  in  the  room,  but  left  it  soon.     Next  arrived  Miss  Knight,  who  remained  all  the  time  I 

was  there.     Princess  Charlotte  was  very   gracious — showed  me  all  her  bonny  dyes,  as  B 

would  have  called  them — pictures,  and  cases,  and  jewels,  &c.  She  talked  in  a  very  desul- 
tory way,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  of  what.  She  observed  her  mother  was  in  very 
low  spirits.  I  asked  her  how  she  supposed  she  could  be  otherwise  ?  This  questioning 
answer  saves  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  serves  two  purposes — /'.  c.  avoids  committing  one- 
self,  or  giving  offence  by  silence.     There  was  hung  in  the  apartment  one   portrait,  amongst 

others,    that   very   much  resembled  the   Duke  of  D .     1  asked  Miss    Knight  whom   it 

represented.  She  said  that  was  not  known  ;  it  had  been  supposed  a  likeness  <  f  the  Pre- 
tender, when  young.  This  answer  suited  my  thoughts  so  comically  I  could  have  laughed, 
if  one  ever  did  at  courts  anything  but  the  contrary  of  what  one  was  inclined  to  do. 

"  Princess  Charlotte  has  a  very  great  variety  of  expression  in  her  countenance — a  play 
of  features,  and  a  force  of  muscle,  rarely  seen  ni  connection  with  such  soft  and  shadeless 
coloring.  Her  hands  and  arms  are  beautiful  ;  but  I  think  her  figure  is  already  gone,  and  will 
soon  be  precisely  like  her  mother's  :  in  short  it  is  the  very  picture  of  her,  and  not  in  minia- 
ture. I  could  not  help  analyzing  my  own  sensations  during  the  time  I  was  with  her,  and 
thought  more  of  them  than  I  did  of  her.  Why  was  1  at  all  flattered,  at  all  more  amused,  at 
all  more  supple  to  this  young  princess,  than  to  her  who  is  only  the  same  sort  of  person  set 
in  the  shade  of  circumstances  and  of  years?  It  is  that  youth,  and  the  approach  of  power, 
and  the  latent  views  of  self-interest,  sway  the  heart  and  dazzle  the  understanding.  If  this 
is  so  with  a  heart  not,  I  trust,  corrupt,  and  a  head  not  particularly  formed  for  interested 
jalculations,  what  effect  must  not  the  same  causes  produce  on  the  generality  of  mankind  ? 

"  In  the  coursi;  of  the  conversation,  the  Princess  Charlotte  contrived  to  edge  in  a  good 


SKIMMINGS  FROM  THE  "DIARY  OF  GEORGE  IVr 


517 


deal  of  tum-cie-dy,  and  would,  if  I  had  entered  into  tlie  thing,  have  gone  on  with  it,  while 
looking  at  a  little  picture  of  herself  which  had  about  thirty  or  forty  different  dresses  to  put 
over  it,  done  on  isinglass,  and  which  allowed  the  general  coloring  of  the  picture  to  be  seen 
through  its  transparency.  It  was,  I  thought,  a  pretty  enough  conceit,  tliough  rather  like 
dressing  up  a  doll.  '  Ah  !  '  said  Miss  Kniglit.  '  I  am  not  content  though,  inadanie — for  I  yet 
should  have  liked  one  more  dress — that  of  the  favorite  Sultana.' 

"  '  No,  no  !  '  said  the  princess,  '  I  never  was  a  favorite,  and  never  can  be  one,' — looking 
at  a  picture  which  she  said  was  her  fatlier's,  but  wliich  I  do  not  believe  was  done  for  the 
regent  any  more  than  for  me,  but  represented  a  young  man  in  a  huzzar's  dress — probably 
a  former  favorite. 

"The  Princess  Charlotte  seemed  much  hurt  at  the  little  notice  that  was  taken  of  her  birth- 
day. After  keeping  nie  for  two  hours  and  a  half  she  dismissed  me  ;  and  I  am  sure  I  could 
not  say  wh.at  she  said,  except  that  it  was  an  olio  of  decousus  and  heterogenous  things,^  par- 
taking of  the  cliaracteristics  of  her  mother,  grafted  on  a  younger  scion.  I  dined  iete-ii-tHi 
with  my  dear  old  aunt :  liers  is  always  a  sweet  and  soothing  society  to  me." 

There's  a  pleasing,  lad3'-like,  moral  extract  for  you !  An 
innocent  young  thing  of  fifteen  has  pictures  of  two  lovers  in  her 
room,  and  expex  a  good  number  more.  This  delligate  young 
creature  edges  in  a  good  deal  of  tutudedy  (I  can't  find  it  in  John- 
son's Dixonary),  and  WQuld  have  gone  on  with  the  thing  (e.\\y- 
gence  of  languidge),  if  the  dairy-lady  would  have  let  her. 

Now,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Yorke,  I  doan't  be  leave  a 
single  syllible  of  this  story.  This  lady  of  honner  says,  in  the 
fust  place,  that  the  princess  would  have  talked  a  good  deal  of 
tumdedy :  which  means,  I  suppose,  indeasnsy,  if  she,  the  lady 
of  honner  would  have  let  her.  This  is  a  good  one  !  Why,  she 
lets  everybody  else  talk  tumdedy  to  their  hearts'  content ;  she 
lets  her  friends  write  tumdedy,  and,  after  keeping  it  for  a  quar- 
ter of  a  sentry;  she.  p?-inis  it.  Why  then,  be  so  squeamish  about 
hearings  little  !  And,  then,  there's  the  stoary  of  the  two  por- 
tricks.  This  woman  has  the  honner  to  be  received  in  the 
frendlyest  manner  by  a  British  princess  ;  and  what  does  the 
grateful  loyal  creature  do  ?  2  picturs  of  the  princess's  relations 
are  hanging  in  her  room,  and  the  Dairy-woman  swears  away  the 
poor  young  princess's  carrickter,  by  swearing  they  are  picturs 
of  her  lovers.  For  shame,  oh,  for  shame  !  you  slanderin  back- 
bitin  dairy-woman  you  !  If  you  told  all  them  things  to  your 
"dear  old  aunt,"  on  going  to  dine  with  her,  you  must  have  had 
very  "  sweet  and  soothing  society  "  indeed, 

I  had  marked  out  many  more  extrax,  which  I  intended  to 
write  about ;  but  I  think  I  have  said  enough  about  this  Dairy  : 
in  fack,  the  butler,  and  the  gals  in  the  servants'  hall  are  not 
well  pleased  that  I  should  go  on  reading  this  naughty  book  ; 
so  we'll  have  no  more  of  it,  only  one  passidge  about  Pollytics, 
witch  is  sertnly  quite  new  : — 

'"  No  one  was  so  likely  to  be  able  to  defeat  Bonaparte  as  the  Crown  Prince,  from  the 
intimate  knowledge  lie  possessed  of  his  character.  Bernadotte  was  also  instigated  against 
Bonaparte  by  one  who  not  only  owed  !iim  a  personal  liatred,  but  who  possessed  a  mind 
equal  to  his,  and  who  gave  the  Crown  Prince  both  iaforination  and  advice  howtoact.  This 
was  r.  >  less  a  person  than  Madam  dj  Staei.     It  was  not,  as  some  liave  asserted,  thai  s/u 


5i8         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.   C.J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

•was  in  love  with  Bernadotte  ;  for  at  the  time  of  their  intimacy,  Madame  de  Stdel  was  tA 
love  with  Rocca.  But  slie  used  her  influence  (which  was  not  small)  with  the  Crown  Prince, 
to  make  him  fight  against  Bonaparte,  and  to  her  wisdom  may  be  attributed  much  of  tlie 
success  which  accompanied  his  attack  upon  him.  Bernadotte  has  raised  the  flame  of  lib- 
erty, which  seems  fortunately  to  blaze  all  around.  May  it  liberate  Europe  ;  and  from  the 
ashes  of  the  laurel  may  olive  branches  spring  up,  and  overshadow  the  earth!  " 

"  There's  a  discuvery  !  that  the  overthrow  of  Boneypart  is 
owing  to  Madame  de  Stdel!  What  nonsince  for  Colonel 
Southey  or  Doctor  Napier  to  write  histories  of  the  war  with 
that  Capsican  liupstart  and  murderer,  when  here  we  have  tlie 
whole  affair  explained  by  the  lady  of  honor  ! 

"  Siatday,  April  -.o,  1S14. — The  incidents  which  take  place  every  hour  arc  miraculous. 
Bonaparte  is  deposed,  but  alive  ;  subdued,  but  allowed  to  choose  his  place  of  residence. 
The  island  of  Elba  is  the  spot  he  has  selected  for  his  ignominious  retreat.  France  is  hold- 
ing forth  repentant  arms  to  her  banished  sovereign.  The  Poissardes  who  dragged  Louis 
XVI.  to  the  scaffold  are  presenting  flowers  to  the  Emperor  of  Russia,  the  restorer  of  their 
legitimate  king!  What  a  stupendous  field  for  philosophy  to  expatiate  in!  What  an  end- 
less material  for  thought !  What  humiliation  to  the  pride  of  mere  human  greatness !  How 
are  the  mighty  fallen!  Of  all  that  was  great  in  Napoleon,  what  remains?  Despoiled  of 
his  usurped  power,  he  sinks  into  insignificance.  There  was  no  moral  greatness  in  the  man. 
The  meteor  dazzled,  scorched,  is  pnt  out, — utterly,  and  for  ever.  But  the  power  which 
rests  in  those  who  have  delivered  the  nations  from  bondage  is  a  power  that  is  delegated  to 
them  from  heaven  ;  and  the  manner  in  which  they  have  used  it  is  a  guarantee  for  its  con- 
tinuance. The  Duke  of  Wellington  has  gained  laurels  unstained  by  any  useless  flow  of 
blood.  He  has  done  more  than  conquer  others — he  has  conquered  himself  :  and  in  the  midst 
of  the  biaze  and  flush  of  victory,  surrounded  by  the  homage  of  nations,  he  has  not  been  be- 
trayed into  the  commission  of  any  act  cf  cruelty  or  wanton  offence.  He  was  as  cool  and  self- 
possessed  under  the  blaze  and  dazzle  of  fame  as  a  common  man  would  be  under  the  shade 
of  his  garden-tree,  or  by  the  hearth  of  his  home.  But  the  tyrant  who  kept  Europe  in  awe 
is  now  a  pitiable  object  for  scorn  to  point  the  finger  of  derision  at :  and  humanity  shudders 
as  it  remembers  the  scourge  with  which  this  man's  ambition  was  permitted  to  devastate 
every  home  tie,  and  every  heartfelt  joy." 

And  now,  after  this  sublime  passidge,  as  full  of  awfle  reflec- 
tions and  pious  sentyments  as  those  of  Mrs.  Cole  in  the  play,  I 
shall  only  quot  one  little  extrak  more  : — 

"  All  goi.,  gloomily  with  the  poor  princess.  Lady  Charlotte  Campbell  told  me  she 
regrets  not  seeing  all  these  cuiious  personages;  but  she  says,  the  more  the  princess  is 
foresaken,  the  more  happy  she  is  at  having  offered  to  attend  her  at  this  time.  This  is  very 
amiable  in  her,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  gratifying  to  the  princess." 

So  it  is — very  amiable,  very  kind  and  considerate  in  her, 
indeed.  Poor  Princess  !  how  lucky  you  was  to  find  a  frend 
who  loved  you  for  your  own  sake,  and  when  all  the  rest  of  the 
wuld  turned  its  back  kep  steady  to  you.  As  for  believing  that 
Lady  Sharlot  had  any  hand  in  this  book,*  heaven  forbid  !  she 
is  all  gratitude,  pure  gratitude,  depend  upon  it.  She  would 
not  go  for  to  blacken  her  old  frend  and  patron's  carrickter 
after  having  been  so  outrageously  faithful  to  her ;  she  wouldn't 
do  it,  at  no  price,  depend  upon  it.  How  sorry  she  must  be  that 
others  an't  quite  so  squemish,  and  show  up  in  this  indesent  way 
the  follies  of  her  kind,  genrus,  foolish  bennyfactris  ! 

*Th;;  "  authorized"  announcement,  in  the  John  ^«// newspaper,  sets  this  question  at 
rest.     It  is  dec.arcd  that  hor  ladyship  is  not  the  writer  of  the  D.iirj'.—O.  Y. 


EPISTLES  TO   THE  LITERATI.  ^jg 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI. 

CH-S    Y-LL-WPL-SH,  ESQ.,  TO    SIR    KDWARD  LYTTON  RULWER,  BX 
JOHN    THOMAS   SMITH,   ESQ.,  TO    C S    Y H,   ESQ. 

NOTUS. 

The  suckmtansies  of  the  following  harticle  are  as  folios  : — ■ 
Me  and  my  friend,  the  sellabrated  Mr.  Smith,  reckonized  each 
Other  in  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  during  the  performints  of  the 
new  play.  I  was  settn  in  the  gallery,  and  sung  out  to  him  (he 
was  in  the  pit),  to  jine  us  after  the  play,  over  a  glass  of  bear 
and  a  cold  hoyster,  in  my  pantry,  the  family  being  out. 

Smith  came  as  appinted.  We  descorsed  on  the  subjick  of 
the  comady  ;  and,  after  sefral  glases,  we  each  of  us  agreed  to 
write  a  letter  to  the  other,  giving  our  notiums  of  the  pease. 
Paper  was  brought  that  momint ;  and  Smith  writing  his  harticle 
across  the  knife-bord,  I  dasht  off  mine  on  the  dresser. 

Our  agreement  was,  that  I  (being  remarkable  for  ray  style 
of  riting)  should  cretasize  the  languidge,  whilst  he  should  take 
iip  with  the  plot  of  the  play  ;  and  the  candied  reader  will  pard- 
ing  me  for  having  holtered  the  original  address  of  my  letter, 
and  directed  it  to  Sir  Edward  himself ;  and  for  having  incop- 
perated  Smith's  remarks  in  the  midst  of  my  own : — 

May/air,  Nov,  30,  1839.     Mldnite. 

HoNRABi^LE  Barnet  ! — Retired  from  the  littery  world  a 
year  or  moar,  I  didn't  think  anythink  would  injuce  me  to  come 
forrards  again  ;  for  I  was  content  with  my  share  of  reputation, 
and  propoas'd  to  add  nothink  to  those  immortial  wux  which 
have  rendered  this  Magaseen  so  sallybrated. 

Shall  I  tell  you  the  reazn  of  my  reappearants  ? — a  desire 
for  the  benefick  of  my  fellow-creatures  ?  Fiddlestick !  A 
mighty  truth  with  which  my  busm  labored,  and  which  I  must 
bring  forth  or  die  ?  Nonsince — stuff  :  money's  the  secret,  my 
dear  Barnet, — money — rargong,  geli,  spicunia.  Here's  quarter- 
day  coming,  and  I'm  blest  if  I  can  pay  my  landlud,  unless  I 
can  ad  hartificially  to  my  inkum. 

This  is,  however,  betwigst  you  and  me.  There's  no  need  to 
blacard   the  streets  with  it,  or  to  tell  the  British  public  that 


520         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

Fitzroy  Y-11-vvpl-sh  is  short  of  money,  or  that  the   sallybratecj 

hauthor  of  the  Y Papers  is  in  peskewniary  difficklties,  ol 

is  fiteagued  by  his  superhuman  litter"  'abors,  or  by  his  famly 
suckmstansies,  or  by  any  other  pusnal  matter :  my  maxim,  dear 
B,  is  on  these  pints  to  be  as  quiet  as  posbile.  Wliat  the  juice 
does  the  public  care  for  you  or  me  ?  Why  must  we  always,  in 
prefizzes  and  what  not,  be  a-talking  about  ourselves  and  our 
^gstrodnary  merrats,  woas,  and  injaries  ?  It  is  on  this  subjick 
that  I  porpies,  my  dear  Barnet,  to  speak  to  you  in  a  frendly 
way  ;     and  praps  you'll  find  my  advise  tolrabbly  holesum. 

Well,  then, — if  you  care  about  the  apinions,  fur  good  or 
evil,  of  us  poor  suvvants,  I  tell  you,  in  the  most  candied  way,  I 
like  you,  Barnet.  I've  had  my  fling  at  you  in  my  day  (for, 
entry  noic,  that  last  stoary  I  roat  about  you  and  Larnder  was  as 
big  a  bownsir  as  ever  was) — -I've  had  my  fling  at  you  ;  but  I 
like  you.  One  may  objeck  to  an  immence  deal  of  your  writ- 
ings, which,  betwigst  you  and  me,  contain  more  sham  scenti- 
ment,  sham  morallaty,  sham  poatry,  than  you'd  like  to  own  r 
but,  in  spite  of  this,  there's  the  stuff  in  you  :  you've  a  kind  and 
loyal  heart  in  you,  Barnet — a  trifle  deboshed,  perhaps  ;  a  kean 
i,  igspecially  for  what's  comic  (as  for  your  tradgady,  it's  mighty 
flatchulent),  and  a  ready  plesnt  pen.  The  man  who  says  you 
are  an  As  is  an  As  himself.  Don't  believe  him,  Barnet !  not 
that  I  suppose  you  wil,— for,  if  I've  formed  a  correck  apinion 
of  you  from  your  v/ucks,  you  think  your  small-beear  as  good  as 
most  men's  :  every  man  does, — and  why  not  ?  We  brew,  and 
vv'e  love  our  own  tap — amen  ;  but  the  pint  betwigst  us,  is  this 
stewpid,  absudd  way  of  crying  out,  because  the  public  don't 
like  it  too.  Why  shood  they,  my  dear  Barnet  ?  You  may  vow 
that  they  are  fools  ;  or  that  the  critix  are  your  enemies  ;  or  that 
the  wuld  should  judge  your  poams  by  your  critticle  rules,  and 
not  their  own  :  you  may  beat  your  breast,  and  vow  you  are  a 
marter,  and  you  won't  mend  the  matter.  Take  heart,  man  ! 
you're  not  so  misrabble  after  all :  your  spirits  need  not  be  so 
very  cast  down  ;  you  are  not  so  very  badly  paid.  I'd  lay  a 
\vager  that  you  make,  with  one  thing  or  another — plays,  novvles, 
pamphlicks,  and  little  odd  jobbs  here  and  there — your  three 
thowsnd  a  year.  There's  many  a  man,  dear  BuUwig,  that  works 
for  less,  and  lives  content.  Why  shouldn't  you  ?  Three 
ihowsnd  a  year  is  no  such  bad  thing, — let  alone  the  barnetcy  : 
it  must  be  a  great  comfort  to  have  that  bloody  hand  in  your 
skitching. 

But  don't  you  sea,  that  in  a  wuld  naturally  envius,  wickid, 
and  fond  of  a  joak,  this  very  barnetcy,  these  very  cumplaints, 


EPISTLES  TO  THE  LITERATI.  521 

—this  ceaseless  groning,  and  moning,  and  wining  of  yours,  is 
igsackly  the  thing  which  makes  people  laff  and  snear  more  ? 
if  you  were  ever  at  a  great  school,  you  must  recklect  who  was 
the  boy  most  buUid,  and  buffitid,  and  purshewd — he  who  minded 
it  most.  He  who  could  take  a  basting  got  but  few  ;  he  who 
rord  and  wep  because  the  knotty  boys  called  him  nicknames, 
was  nicknamed  wuss  and  wuss.  I  recklet  there  was  at  our 
school,  in  Smithfield,  a  chap  of  this  milksop,  spoony  sort,  who 
appeared  among  the  romping,  ragged  fellers  in  a  fine  flanning 
dressing-gownd,  that  his  mama  had  given  him.  That  pore  boy 
was  beaten  in  a  way  that  his  dear  ma  and  aunts  didn't  know 
him  ;  his  tine  flanning  dressing-gownd  was  torn  all  to  ribbings, 
and  he  got  no  pease  in  the  school  ever  after,  but  was  abliged 
to  be  taken  to  some  other  saminary,  where,  I  make  no  doubt, 
he  was  paid  off  igsactly  in  the  same  way. 

Do  you  take  the  halligory,  my  dear  Barnet .?  Mutayto 
nominy — you  know  what  I  mean.  You  are  the  boy,  and  your 
barnetcy  is  the  dressing-gownd.  You  dress  yourself  out  finer 
than  other  chaps  and  they  all  begin  to  sault  and  hustle  you  ; 
it's  human  nature,  Barnet.  You  show  weakness,  think  of  your 
dear  ma,  mayhap,  and  begin  to  cry :  it's  all  over  with  you  ;  the 
whole  school  is  at  you — upper  boys  and  under,  big  and  little  ; 
the  dirtiest  little  fag  in  the  place  will  pipe  out  blaggerd  names 
at  you,  and  take  his  pewny  tug  at  your  tail. 

The  only  way  to  avoid  such  consperracies  is  to  put  a  pair  of 
stowt  shoalders  forrards,  and  bust  through  the  crowd  of  raggy- 
muffins.  A  good  bold  fellow  dubls  his  fistt,  and  cries,  "  Wha 
dares  meddle  wi'  me  ? "  When  Scott  got  his  barnetcy,  for 
instans,  did  any  one  of  us  cry  out  ?  No,  by  the  laws,  he  was 
our  master ;  and  wo  betide  the  chap  that  said  neigh  to  him  ! 
But  there's  barnets  and  barnets.  Do  you  recklect  that  fine 
chapter  in  "  Squintin  Durward,"  about  the  too  fellos  and  cups, 
at  the  siege  of  the  bishop's  castle  ?  One  of  them  was  a  brave 
warrier,  and  kep  his  cup  ;  they  strangled  the  other  chap — • 
strangled  him,  and  laffed  at  him  too. 

With  respeck,  then,  to  the  barnetcy  pint,  this  is  my  advice  : 
brazen  it  out.  Us  littery  men  I  take  to  be  like  a  pack  of 
schoolboys — childish,  greedy,  envius,  holding  by  our  friends, 
and  always  ready  to  fight.  What  must  be  a  man's  conduck 
among  such  ?  He  must  either  take  no  notis,  and  pass  on  my- 
jaslick,  or  else  turn  round  and  pummle  soundly — one,  two, 
right  and  left,  ding  dong  over  the  face  and  eyes;  above  all, 
never  acknowledge  that  he  is  hurt.  Years  ago,  for  instans 
{we've  no  ill-blood,  but  only  mention  this  by  way  of  igsample), 


522         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.   C  J.   YELLOWFLUSH. 

you  began  a  sparring  with  this  Magaseen.  Law  bless  you,  such 
a  ridickkis  gaym  I  never  see  :  a  man  so  belaybord,  beflustered, 
bewollo])ed,  was  never  known  ;  it  was  the  lafl  of  the  whole 
town.  Your  intcLackshsl  natur,  respected  Barnet,  is  not  fiz- 
zickly  adapted,  so  to  speak,  for  encounters  of  this  sort.  You 
must  not  indulge  in  combats  with  us  course  bullies  of  the 
press  :  you  have  not  the  sta??iiny  for  a  reglar  set-to.  What, 
then,  is  your  plan  .-'  In  the  midst  of  the  mob  to  pass  as  quiet 
as  you  can  :  you  won't  be  undistubbed.  Who  is  .''  Some  stray 
kix  and  buffits  will  fall  to  you — mortial  man  is  subjick  to  such  ; 
but  if  you  begin  to  wins  and  cry  out,  and  set  up  for  a  marter, 
wo  betide  you  ! 

These  remarks,  pusnal  as  I  confess  them  to  be,  are  yet,  I 
assure  )^ou,  written  in  jDcrfick  good-natur,  and  have  been 
inspired  by  your  play  of  the  "  Sea  Capting,"  and  prefiz  to  it ; 
which  latter  is  on  matters  intirely  pusnal,  and  will,  therefore,  I 
trust,  igscuse  this  kind  of  ad  Jiomiuam  (as  they  say)  diskcushion, 
I  propose,  honrabble  Barnit,  to  comsider  calmly  this  play  and 
prephiz,  and  to  speak  of  both  with  that  honisty  which,  in  the 
pantry  or  studdy,  I've  been  always  phamous  for.  Let  us,  in 
the  first  place,  listen  to  the  opening  of  the  "  Preface  of  the 
Fourth  Edition  :  " 

"  No  one  can  be  more  sensible  than  I  am  of  the  many  faults  and  deficiencies  to  be  found 
in  this  play :  but,  perhaps,  when  it  is  considered  how  very  rarely  it  has  happened  in  the  his- 
tory of  our  draniatic  literature  that  good  acting  plays  have  been  produced,  except  by  those 
who  have  either  been  actors  themselves,  or  formed  their  habits  of  literature,  almost  of  life, 
behind  tlie  scenes,  I  might  have  looked  for  a  criticism  more  generous,  and  less  exacting  and 
rigorous,  than  that  by  which  the  attempts  of  an  author  accustomed  to  another  class  of  com- 
position have  been  received  by  a  large  proportion  of  the  periodical  press. 

"  It  is  scarcely  possible,  indeed,  that  this  play  should  not  contain  faults  of  two  kinds: 
first,  the  faults  of  one  who  has  necessarily  much  to  learn  in  the  mechanism  of  his  art :  and, 
secondly,  of  one  who,  having  written  largely  in  the  narrative  style  of  fiction,  may  not  un- 
frequently  mistake  the  effects  of  a  novel  for  the  effects  of  a  drama.  I  may  add  to  these, 
])erhapf ,  the  deficiencies  that  arise  from  uncertain  heahh  and  broken  spirits,  which  render 
the  author  more  susceptible  than  he  might  have  been  some  years  since  to  that  spirit  of  de- 
preciation and  hostility  which  it  has  been  his  misfortune  to  excite  amongst  the  general  con- 
tributors to  the  iieriodical  press  ;  for  the  consciousness  that  every  endeavor  will  be  made  to 
cavil,  to  distort,  to  misrepresent,  and,  in  fine,  if  possible,  to  rtiii  down,  will  occasionally 
haunt  even  the  hours  of  composition,  to  check  the  inspiration,  and  damp  the  ardor. 

"  Having  confessed  thus  much  frankly  and  fairly,  and  with  a  hope  that  I  may  ultimately 
do  better,  should  I  continue  to  write  for  the  stage  (with  nothing  but  an  assurance  that,  with 
all  my  defects,  I  may  yet  bring  some  little  aid  to  the  drama,  at  a  time  when  my  aid,  h.ow- 
ever  humble,  ought  to  be  welcome  to  the  lovers  of  the  art,  could  induce  me  to  do),  may  I  be 
permitted  to  say  a  few  words  as  to  some  of  the  objections  v/hichhave  been  made  against  this 
play?" 

Now,  my  dear  sir,  look  what  a  pretty  number  of  please  you 
put  forrards  here,  why  your  play  shouldn't  be  good. 

First.     Good  plays  are  almost  always  written  by  actors 

Secknd.     You  are  a  novice  to  the  style  of  composition. 

Third.  You  may  be  mistaken  in  your  effects,  being  a 
novelist  by  trade,  and  not  a  play-v>riter. 


EPISTLES  TO  THE  LITER  A  TI. 


523 


Fourthly.     Your  in  such  bad  helth  and  sperrits. 

Fifthly.  Your  so  afraid  of  the  critix,  that  they  damp  your 
arder. 

For  shame,  for  shame,  man  !  What  confeshns  is  these, — ■ 
what  painful  pewling  and  piping !  Your  not  a  babby.  I  take 
you  to  be  some  seven  or  eight  and  thutty  years  old — "in  the 
morning  of  youth,"  as  the  flosofer  says.  Don't  let  any  such 
nonsince  take  your  reazn  prisoner.  What  you,  an  old  hand 
amongst  us, — an  old  soljer  of  our  sovring  quean  the  press, — • 
you,  who  have  had  the  best  pay,  have  held  the  topmost  rank 
(ay,  and  deserved  them  too  ! — I  gif  you  lef  to  quot  me  in  sasiaty, 
and  say,  "  I  am  a  man  of  genius  :  Ylll-wpl-sh  says  so  "), — you 
to  lose  heart,  and  cry  pickavy,  and  begin  to  howl,  because  little 
boys  fling  stones  at  you  !  Fie,  man  !  take  courage;  and,  bear- 
";ng  the  terrows  of  youi  blood-red  hand,  as  the  poet  says,  punish 
us,  if  we've  ofended  you :  punish  us  like  a  man,  or  bear  your 
own  punishment  like  a  man.  Don't  try  to  come  off  with  such 
misrabble  lodgic  as  that  above. 

What  do  you .?  You  give  four  satisfackary  reazns  that  the 
play  is  bad  (the  secknd  is  naught, — for  your  no  such  chicking 
at  play-writing,  this  being  the  forth).  You  show  that  the  play 
must  be  bad,  and  then  begin  to  deal  with  the  critix  for  finding 
folt! 

Was  there  ever  wuss  generalship  ?  The  play  is  bad, — your 
right, — a  wuss  I  never  see  or  read.  But  why  kneed  you  say 
so  .''  If  it  was  so  very  bad,  why  publish  it  ?  Beeause  you  wish 
to  serve  the  drama  !  O  fie  !  don't  lay  that  flattering  function  to 
your  sole,  as  Milton  observes.  Do  you  believe  that  this  "  Sea 
Capting  "  can  serve  the  drama  ?  Did  you  never  intend  that  it 
should  serve  anything,  or  anybody  else .?  Of  cors  you  did  ! 
You  wrote  it  for  money, — money  from  the  maniger,  money 
from  the  bookseller, — for  the  same  reason  that  I  write  this. 
Sir,  Shakspeare  wrote  far  the  very  same  reasons,  and  I  never 
heard  that  he  bragged  about  serving  the  drama.  Away  with 
this  canting  about  great  motifs  !  Let  us  not  be  too  prowd,  my 
dear  Barnet,  and  fansy  ourselves  marters  of  the  truth,  marters 
or  apostels.  We  are  but  tradesmen,  working  for  bread,  and 
not  for  righteousness'  sake.  Let's  try  and  work  honestly  ;  but 
don't  let  us  be  prayting  pompisly  about  our  "  sacred  calling." 
The  taylor  who  makes  your  coats  (and  very  well  they  are  made 
too,  with  the  best  of  velvit  collars) — I  say  Stulze,  or  Nugee, 
might  cry  out  that  their  motifs  were  but  to  assert  the  eturnle 
truth  of  tayloring,  with  just  as  much  reazn ;  and  who  would 
believe  them  ? 


524  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

Well  ;  after  this  acknollitchmint  that  the  play  is  bad,  come 
sefral  pages  of  attack  on  the  critix,  and  tlie  folt  those  gentry 
have  found  with  it.  With  these  I  shan't  middle  for  the  presnt. 
You  defend  all  the  characters  i  by  i,  and  conclude  your 
remarks  as  follows  : — 

"  I  must  be  pardoned  for  this  disquisition  on  my  own  designs.  When  every  means  is 
cmph:)yed  to  misrepresent,  it  becomes,  perhaps,  allowable  to  explain.  And  if  I  do  not  think 
that  my  faults  as  a  dramatic  author  are  to  be  found  in  the  study  and  delineation  of  character, 
it  is  precisely  because  that  is  the  point  on  which  all  my  previous  pursuits  in  literature  and 
actual  life  would  be  most  likelv  to  preserve  me  from  the  errors  I  own  elsewhere,  whether  of 
misjudgnient  or  inexperience. 

"  I  have  now  only  to  add  my  thanks  to  the  actors  for  the  zeal  and  talent  with  which  they 
have  embodied  the  characters  entrusted  to  them.  The  sweetness  and  grace  with  which 
Miss  Faucit  embellished  the  part  of  Violet,  which,  though  only  a  sketch,  is  most  necessary 
to  the  coloring  and  harmony  of  the  play,  were  perhaps  the  more  pleasing  to  the  audience 
from  the  generosity,  rare  with  actors,  wliich  induced  her  to  take  a  part  so  far  inferior  to  her 
powers.  The  applause  which  attends  the  performance  of  Mrs.  Warner  and  Mr.  Strickland 
attests  their  success  in  characters  of  unusual  difficulty  ;  while  the  singular  beauty  and  noble- 
ness, whether  of  conception  or  execution,  with  which  the  greatest  of  living  actors  has 
elevated  the  part  of  Norman  (so  totally  different  from  this  ordinary  range  of  character),  is  a 
new  proof  of  his  versatility  and  accomplishment  in  all  that  belongs  to  his  art.  It  would  be 
scarcely  gracious  to  conclude  these  remarks  without  expressing  my  acknowledgment  of  that 
generous  and  indulgent  sense  of  justice  which,  forgetting  all  political  difference  in  a  literary 
arena,  has  enabled  me  to  appeal  to  approving  audiences — from  hostile  critics.  And  it  is  this 
which  alone  encourages  me  to  hope  that,  sooner  or  later,  I  may  add  to  the  dramatic  litera- 
ture of  my  country  something  that  may  find,  perhaps,  almost  as  many  friends  in  the  next 
age  as  it  has  been  the  fate  of  the  author  to  find  enemies  in  this." 

See,  now,  what  a  good  comfrabble  vanaty  is  !  Pepple  have 
quarld  with  the  dramatic  characters  of  your  play.  "  No,"  says 
you  j  "  if  I  ain  remarkabble  for  anythink,  it's  for  my  study  and 
delineation  of  character ;  that  is  presizely  the  pint  to  which  my 
littery  purshuits  have  led  me."  Have  you  read  "  Jil  Blaw,"  my 
dear  sir  ?  Have  you  pirouzed  that  exlent  tragady,  the  "  Critic  ?  " 
There's  something  so  like  this  in  Sir  Fretful  Plaguy,  and  the 
Archbishop  of  Granadiers,  that  I'm  blest  if  I  can't  laff  till  my 
sides  ake.  Think  of  the  critix  fixing  on  the  very  pint  for  which 
you  are  famus  ! — the  roags  !  And  spose  they  had  said  the  plot 
was  absudd,  or  the  langwitch  absudder  still,  don't  you  think 
you  would  have  had  a  word  in  defens  of  them  too — you  who 
hope  to  find  frends  for  your  dramatic  wux  in  the  nex  age  ? 
Poo  !  I  tell  thee,  Barnet,  that  the  nex  age  will  be  wiser  and 
better  than  this  ;  and  do  you  think  that  it  will  imply  itself  a 
reading  of  your  trajadies  ?  This  is  misantrofy,  Barnet — reglar 
Byronism  ;  and  you  ot  to  have  a  better  apinian  of  human 
natur. 

Your  apinion  about  the  actors  I  sha'n't  here  meddle  with. 
They  all  acted  exlently  as  far  as  my  humbile  judgement  goes, 
and  your  write  in  giving  them  all  possible  prays.  But  let's 
consider  the  last  sentence  of  the  prefiz,  my  dear  Barnet,  and 
see  wl'.at  a  pretty  set  of  apiniuns  you  lay  down. 


EPISTLES  TO  THE  LITERATI.  ^21? 

1.  The  critix  are  your  inymies  in  this  age. 

2.  In  tlie  nex,  however,  you  hope  to  find  newmrous  f rends. 

3.  And  it's  a  satisfackshn  to  think  that,  in  spite  of  politticle 
diffrances,  you  have  found  frendly  aujences  here. 

Now,  my  dear  Barnet,  for  a  man  who  begins  so  humbly 
with  what  my  friend  Father  Prout  calls  an  argammihitji  ad  mise- 
ricorjam,  who  ignowledges  that  his  play  is  bad,  that  his  pore 
dear  helth  is  bad,  and  those  cussid  critix  have  played  the  juice 
with  him — I  say,  for  a  man  who  beginns  in  such  a  humbill 
toan,  it's  rayther  rich  to  see  how  you  end. 

My  dear  Barnet,  do  you  suppose  \X\'^t  politticle  diffrances  pre- 
judice pepple  against  youl  What  are  your  politix  ?  Wig,  I 
presume — so  are  mine,  entry  7100.  And  what  if  they  are  Wig, 
or  Raddiccle,  or  Cumsuvvative  ?  Does  any  mortial  man  in 
England  care  a  phig  for  your  politix  ?  Do  you  think  yourself 
such  a  mity  man  in  parlymint,  that  critix  are  to  be  angry  with 
you,  and  aujences  to  be  cumsidered  magnanamous  because 
they  treat  you  fairly  ?  There,  now,  was  Sherridn,  he  who  roat 
the  "Rifles  "  and  "  School  for  Scandle  "  (I  saw  the  "  Rifles  " 
after  your  play,  and,  O  Barnet,  if  you  knew  what  a  relief  it  was  !) 
— there,  I  say,  was  Sherridn — he  was  a  politticle  character,  if 
you  please — he  could  make  a  spitch  or  two — do  you  spose  that 
Pitt,  Purseyvall,  Castlerag,  old  George  the  Third  himself, 
wooden  go  to  see  the  "  Rivles  " — ay,  and  clap  hands  too,  and 
laflf  and  ror,  for  all  Sherry's  Wiggery  ?  Do  you  spose  the  critix 
wouldn't  applaud  too  .''  For  shame,  Barnet !  what  ninnis,  what 
laartless  raskles,  you  must  beleave  them  to  be, — in  the  fust 
plase,  to  fancy  that  you  are  a  politticle  genus ;  in  the  secknd, 
to  let  your  politix  interfear  with  their  notiums  about  littery 
merits  ! 

"  Put  that  nonsince  out  of  your  head,"  as  Fox  said  to  Bony- 
part.  Wasn't  it  that  great  genus,  Dennis,  that  wrote  in  Swiff 
and  Poop's  time,  who  fansid  that  the  French  king  wooden 
make  pease  unless  Dennis  was  delivered  up  to  him  ?  Upon  my 
\Yud,  I  doan't  think  he  carrid  his  diddlusion  much  further  than 
a  serting  honrabble  barnet  of  my  aquentance. 

And  then  for  the  nex  age.  Respected  sir,  this  is  another 
diddlusion ;  a  gross  misteak  on  your  part,  or  my  name  is  not 
Y — sh.  These  plays  immortial !  Ah,  parrysampe,  as  the 
French  say,  this  is  too  strong — the  small-beer  of  the  "  Sea 
Capting,"  or  of  any  suxessor  of  the  "  Sea  Capting,"  to  keep 
sweet  for  sentries  and  sentries  !  Barnet,  Barnet  !  do  you  know 
the  natur  of  bear  ?  Six  weeks  is  not  past,  and  here  your  last 
casque  is  sour — the  public  won't  even  now  drink  it ;  and  I  lay 

34 


526         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

a  wager  that,  betwigst  this  day  (the  thuttieth  November)  and 
the  end  of  the  year,  the  barl  will  be  off  the  stox  altogether, 
never,  never  to  return. 

I've  notted  down  a  few  frazes  here  and  th^re,  which  you 
will  do  well  do  igsamin  : — 


"  The  eternal  Flora 
Woos  to  lier  odorous  haunts  the  western  wind  ; 
While  circling  round  and  upwards  from  the  boughs, 
Golden  with  fruits  that  lure  the  joyous  birds, 
Melodv,  like  a  liappy  soul  released, 
Hangs  in  the  air,  and  from  invisible  plumes 
Shakes  sweetness  down  !  " 


"  And  these  the  lips 
Where,  till  this  hour,  the  sad  and  holy  kiss 
Of  parting  linger'd,  as  the  fragrance  left 
By  angels  when  they  touch  the  earth  and  vanish.'' 


*'  Hark!  she  has  blessed  her  son  !     I  bid  ye  witness, 
Ye  listening  heavens — thou  circumambient  air  : 
The  ocean  sighs  it  back— and  with  the  murmur 
Rustle  the  happy  leaves.     All  nature  breathes 
Aloud— aloft— to  the  Great  Parent's  ear 
The  blessing  of  the  mother  on  her  child." 


"  I  dream  of  love,  enduring  faith,  a  heart 
Mingled  with  mine— a  deathless  heritage, 
Which  I  can  take  unsullied  to  the  stars. 
When  the  Great  Father  calls  his  children  home.' 

NORMAN. 


'  The  blue  air,  breathless  in  the  starry  peace, 
After  long  silence  hushed  as  heaven,  but  filled 
With  happy  thoughts  as  heaven  with  atigels.'" 


''  Till  one  calm  night,  when  over  earth  and  wave 
Heaven  looked  its  love  from  all  its  numberless  sitti'Sp 

NORMAN. 

"Those  eyes,  the  guiding  stars  by  which  I  steered." 


"  That  great  mother 
(The  only  parent  I  have  known),  whose  face 
Is  bright  with  gazing  ever  on  the  stars — 
The  mother-sea." 

NORMAN. 

"  My  bark  shall  be  ottr  hoBMl| 
The  stars  that  light  the  angel  palaces 
Of  air,  our  lamps." 

NORMAN. 

•  A  name  that  glitters,  like  a  star,  amidst 
The  galaxy  of  England's  loftiest  bom." 


EPISTLES  TO  THE  LITERATI.  ^27 


tADY   ARUNDEL. 


*■  And  see  him  princeliest  of  the  lion  tribe, 
Whose  swords  and  Coronals  gleam  around  the  throne, 
The  guardian  stars  of  the  imperial  isle." 

The  fust  spissymen  has  been  going  the  round  of  all  the 
papers,  as  real,  reglar  poatry.  Those  wickicl  critix  !  they  must 
have  been  lafhng  in  their  sleafs  when  they  quoted  it.  Malody, 
ruckling  round  and  uppards  from  the  bows,  like  a  happy  soul 
released,  hangs  in  the  air,  and  from  invizable  plumes  shakes 
sweetness  down.  Mighty  fine,  truly  !  but  let  mortial  man  tell 
the  meanink  of  the  passidge.  Is  it  miisickle  sweetniss  that 
Malody  shakes  down  from  its  plumes — its  wings,  that  is,  or 
tail — or  some  pekewliar  scent  that  proceeds  from  happy  souls 
released,  and  which  they  sliake  down  from  the  trees  when  they 
are  suckling  round  and  uppards .''  Is  this  poatry,  Barnet  ? 
Lay  your  hand  on  your  busm,  and  speak  out  boldly :  Is  it 
poatry,  or  sheer  windy  humbugg,  that  sounds  a  little  melojous, 
and  won't  bear  the  commanest  test  of  comman  sence  ? 

In  passidge  number  2,  the  same  bisniss  is  going  on,  though 
in  a  more  comprehensable  way  :  the  air,  the  leaves,  the  otion, 
are  fiild  with  emocean  at  Capting  Norman's  happiness.  Pore 
Nature  is  dragged  in  to  partisapate  in  his  joys,  just  as  she  has 
been  befor.  Once  in  a  poem,  this  universle  simfithy  is  very 
well ;  but  once  is  enuff,  my  dear  Barnet :  and  that  once  should 
be  in  some  great  suckmstans,  surely, — such  as  the  meeting  of 
Adam  and  Eve,  in  "  Paradice  Lost,"  or  Jewpeter  and  Jewno, 
in  Hoamer,  where  there  seems,  as  it  were,  a  reasn  for  it. 
But  sea-captings  should  not  be  eternly  spowting  and  invoking 
gods,  hevns,  Starrs,  angels,  and  other  silestial  influences.  We 
can  all  do  it,  Barnet ;  nothing  in  life  is  easier.  I  can  compare 
my  livry  buttons  to  the  stars,  or  the  clouds  of  my  backopipe  to 
the  dark  vollums  that  ishew  from  Mount  Hetna ;  or  I  can  say 
that  angels  are  looking  down  from  them,  and  the  tobacco  silf, 
like  a  happy  sole  released,  is  circling  round  and  upw^ards,  and 
shaking  sweetness  down.  All  this  is  as  esy  as  drink  ;  but  it's 
not  poatry,  Barnet,  nor  natural.  People,  when  their  mothers 
reckonize  them,  don't  howl  about  the  suckumambient  air,  and 
paws  to  think  of  the  happy  leaves  a-rustling — at  least,  one  mis- 
trusts them  if  they  do.  Take  another  instans  out  of  your  own 
play.  Capting  Norman  ('with  his  eternll  slack-Jaw  /)  meets  the 
gal  of  his  art : — 

"  Look  up,  look  up,  my  Violet  —weeping  ?  fie  ! 
And  trembling  too — yet  leaning  on  my  breast. 
In  truth,  thou  ait  too  soft  for  such  rude  shelter. 


528         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSR. 

Look  up!     I  come  to  woo  thee  to  the  seas, 
My  sailor's  bride  !      Hast  thou  no  voice  but  blushes? 
Nay — From  those  roses  let  me,  like  the  bee, 
Drag  forth  the  secret  sweetness!  " 


"  Oh  what  thoughts 
Were  kept  for  speech  when  we  once  more  should  meetf 
Now  blotted  from  the  pag-g  ;  and  all  1  feel 
Is — /kau  art  with  me  !  " 

Very  right,  Miss  Violet — the  scentiment  is  natral,  affeck* 
shnit,  pleasing,  simple  (it  might  have  been  in  more  grammaticle 
languidge,  and  no  harm  done)  ;  but  never  mind,  the  feeling  is 
pritty ;  and  I  can  fancy,  my  dear  Barnet,  a  pritty,  smiling, 
weeping  lass,  looking  up  in  a  man's  face  and  saying  it.  But 
the  capting  ! — oh,  this  capting  ! — this  windy,  spouting  captain, 
with  his  prittinesses,  and  conseated  apollogies  for  the  hardness 
of  his  busm,  and  his  old,  stale,  vapid  simalies,  and  his  wishes 
to  be  a  bee  !  Pish  !  Men  don't  make  love  in  this  finniking 
way.  It's  the  part  of  a  sentymentle,  poeticle  taylor,  not  a  gal- 
liant  gentleman,  in  command  of  one  of  her  Madjisty's  vessels 
of  war. 

Look  at  the  remaining  extrac,  hotiored  Barnet,  and  acknol- 
lidge  that  Captain  Norman  is  eturnly  repeating  himself,  with 
his  endless  jabber  about  stars  and  angels.  Look  at  the  neat 
grammaticle  twist  of  Lady  Arundel's  spitch,  too,  who,  in  the 
corse  of  three  lines,  has  made  her  son  a  prince,  a  lion,  with  a 
sword  and  coronal,  and  a  star.  Why  jumble  and  sheak  up 
metafors  in  this  way  ?  Barnet,  one  simily  is  quite  enuff  in  the 
best  of  sentenses  (and  I  preshume  I  kneedn't  tell  you  that  it's 
as  well  to  have  it  /i/^'e,  when  you  are  about  it).  Take  my 
advise,  honrabble  sir — listen  to  a  humble  footmin  :  it's  genrally 
best  in  poatry  to  understand  puffickly  what  you  mean  yourself, 
and  to  ingspress  your  meaning  clearly  afterwoods — in  the 
simpler  words  the  better,  praps.  You  may,  for  instans,  call  a 
coronet  a  coronal  if  you  like,  as  you  might  call  a  hat  a  "  swart 
sombrero,"  "a  glossy  four-and-nine,"  "a  silken  helm,  to  storm 
impermeable,  and  lightsome  as  the  breezy  gossamer  ;  "  but,  in 
the  long  run,  it  as  well  to  call  it  a  hat.  It  is  a  hat :  and  that 
name  is  quite  as  poetticle  as  another.  I  think  it's  Playto,  or 
els  Harrystottle,  who  observes  that  what  we  call  a  rose  by  any 
other  name  would  smell  as  sweet.  Confess,  now,  dear  Barnet, 
don't  you  long  to  call  it  a  Polyanthus  ? 

I  never  see  a  play  more  carelessly  written.  In  such  a  hurry 
you  seem  to  have  bean,  that  you  have  actially  in  some  sentences 
forgot  to  put  in  the  sence.     What  is  this,  for  instance .'' — 


EPISTLES  TO  THE  LITER  A  TL 

"  This  tlirice  precious  one 
Smiled  to  my  eyes — drew  being  from  my  breast- 
Slept  in  my  arms  ; — the  very  tears  I  shed 
■ibove  my  treasures  were  to  men  and  angels 
A  "ke  such  holy  sweetness  !  " 

In  the  name  of  all  the  angels  that  ever  you  invoked— 
Raphael,  Gabriel,  U'-iel,  Zadkiel,  Azrael — what  does  this  "  holy 
sweetness  "  mean  ?  We're  not  spinxes  to  read  such  durk  conan- 
drums.  If  you  knew  my  state  sins  I  came  upon  this  passidg — 
I've  neither  slep  nor  eton  ;  I've  neglected  my  pantry  ;  I've 
been  wandring  from  house  to  house  with  this  riddl  in  my  hand, 
and  nobody  can  understand  it.  All  Mr.  Frazier's  men  are 
wild,  looking  gloomy  at  one  another,  and  asking  what  this  may 
be.  All  the  cumtributors  have  been  spoak  to.  The  Doctor, 
who  knows  every  languitch,  has  tried  and  giv'n  up  ;  we've  sent 
to  Docter  Pettigruel,  who  reads  horyglifics  a  deal  ezier  than 
my  way  of  spellin' — no  anser.  Quick  !  quick  with  a  fifth  edi- 
tion, honored  Barnet,  and  set  us  at  rest !  While  your  about  it, 
please,  too,  to  igsplain  the  two  last  lines  : — 

"  His  merry  bark  with  England's  flag  to  crown  her." 

See  what  dellexy  of  igspreshn,  "  a  flag  to  crown  her  !  " 

"  His  merry  bark  with  England's  flag  tc  crown  her. 
Fame  for  my  hopes,  and  woman  in  my  cares." 

likewise  the  following  : — 

"  Girl,  beware, 
The  love  that  trifles  round  the  charms  it  gilds 
Oft  ruins  while  it  shines." 

Igsplane  this,  men  and  angels  !    I've  tried  every  way  ;   back* 
ards,  forards,  and  in  all  sorts  of  trancepositions,  as  thus : — 


Or, 
Or, 
Or, 
Or, 


The  love  that  ruins  round  the  charms  it  shines, 
Gilds  while  it  trifles  oft ; 

The  charm  that  gilds  around  the  love  it  ruins, 
Oft  trifles  while  it  shines  ; 

The  ruins  that  love  gilds  and  shines  around, 
Oft  trifles  where  it  charms  ; 

Love,  while  it  charms,  shines  round,  and  ruins  oft, 
The  trifles  that  it  gilds  ; 

The  love  that  trifles,  gilds  and  ruins  oft, 
While  round  the  charms  it  shines. 


All  which  are  as  sensable  as  the  fust  passidge. 

And  with  this  I'll  allow  my  friend  Smith,  who  has  been 
silent  all  this  time,  to  say  a  few  words.  He  has  not  written 
near  so  nnich  as  me  (being  an   infearor  genus,  betwigst  our- 


530         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.J.   YELLOWPLUSH. 

selves),  but  he  says  he  never  had  such  mortial  difficklty  with 
anything  as  with  the  dixcripshn  of  the  plott  of  your  pease.  Here 
his  letter  : — 

To  Ch-rl-s  F-tzr-y  Pl-nt-g-n-t  Y-ll-wpl-sh,  Esq.,  &c.,  &c. 

30//;  Nov..,  1839. 
My  dear    and    honored    Sir, — I   have  the  pleasure  of  lay- 
ing before  you  the  following  description  of  the  plot,  and  a  few 
remarks  upon  the  style  of  the  piece  called  "  The  Sea  Captain." 

Five-and-twenty  years  back,  a  certain  Lord  Arundel  had  a 
daughter,  heiress  of  his  estates  and  property  ;  a  poor  cousin, 
Sir  Maurice  Beevor  (being  next  in  succession)  ;  and  a  page, 
Arthur  Le  Mesnil  by  name. 

The  daughter  took  a  fancy  for  the  page,  and  the  young  per- 
sons were  married  unknown  to  his  lordship. 

Three  days  before  her  confinement  (thinking,  no  doubt,  that 
period  favorable  for  travelling),  the  young  couple  had  agreed 
to  run  away  together,  and  had  reached  a  chapel  near  on  the 
sea-coast,  from  which  they  were  to  embark,  when  Lord  Arundel 
abruptly  put  a  stop  to  their  proceedings  by  causing  one  Gaussen, 
a  pirate,  to  murder  the  page. 

His  daughter  was  carried  back  to  Arundel  House,  and,  in 
three  days  gave  birth  to  a  son.  Whether  his  lordship  knew  of 
this  birth  I  cannot  say  ;  the  infant,  however,  was  never  ac- 
knowledged, but  carried  by  Sir  Maurice  Beevor  to  a  priest, 
Onslow  by  name,  who  educated  the  lad  and  kept  him  for 
twelve  years  in  profound  ignorance  of  his  birth.  The  boy  went 
by  the  name  of  Norman. 

Lady  Arundel  meanwhile  married  again,  again  became  a 
widow,  but  had  a  second  son,  who  was  the  acknowledged  heir, 
and  called  Lord  Ashdale.  Old  Lord  Arundel  died,  and  her 
ladyship  became  countess  in  her  own  right. 

When  Norman  was  about  twelve  years  of  age,  his  mother, 
who  wished  to  "  waft  young  Arthur  to  a  distant  land,"  had  him 
sent  on  board  ship.  \\'ho  should  the  captain  of  the  ship  be 
but  Gaussen,  who  received  a  smart  bribe  from  Sir  Maurice 
Beevor  to  kill  the  lad.     Accordingly,  Gaussen  tied  him  to  a 

plank,  and  pitched  him  overboard. 

****** 

About  thirteen  years  after  these  circumstances,  Violet,  an 
orphan  niece  of  Lady  Arundel's  second  husband,  came  to  pass 
a  few  weeks  with  her  ladyship.  She  had  just  come  from  a  sea 
voyage,  and  had  been  saved  from  a  wicked  Algerine  by  an  Eng- 
lish sea  captain.     This  sea  captain  w;i.s  no  other  than  Norman,, 


EPISTLES  TO  THE  LITER  A  TL 


531 


\fA\o  had  been   picked  up  off  liis  plank,  and  fell  in  love  witli, 
and  was  loved  by,  Miss  Violet. 

A  short  time  after  Violet's  arrival  at  her  aunt's  the  captain 
came  to  pay  her  a  visit,  his  ship  anchoring  off  the  coast,  near 
Lady  Arundel's  residence.  By  a  singular  coincidence,  that 
rogue  Gaussen's  ship  anchored  in  the  harbor  too.  Gaussen  at 
once  knew  his  man,  for  he  had  "  tracked  "  him  (after  drowning 
him),  and  he  informed  Sir  Maurice  Beevor  that  young  Norman 
was  alive. 

Sir  Maurice  Beevor  informed  her  ladyship.  How  should 
she  get  rid  of  him  ?  In  this  wise.  He  was  in  love  with  Violet, 
let  him  marry  her  and  be  off  ;  for  Lord  Ashdale  was  in  love 
with  his  cousin  too  ;  and,  of  course,  could  not  marry  a  young 
woman  in  her  station  of  life.  "You  have  a  chaplain  on  board," 
says  her  ladyship  to  Captain  Norman  ;  "  let  him  attend  to-night 
in  the  ruined  chapel,  marry  Violet,  and  away  with  you  to  sea." 
By  this  means  she  hoped  to  be  quit  of  him  for  ever. 

But  unfortunately  the  conversation  had  been  overheard  by 
Beevor,  and  reported  to  Ashdale.  Ashdale  determined  to  be 
at  the  chapel  and  carry  off  Violet ;  as  for  Beevor,  he  sent 
Gaussen  to  the  chapel  to  kill  both  Ashdale  and  Norman  :  thus 
there  would  only  be  Lady  Arundel  between  him  ai^d  the  title. 

Norman,  in  the  meanwhile,  who  had  been  walking  near  the 
chapel,  had  just  seen  his  worthy  old  friend,  the  priest,  most 
barbarously  murdered  there.  Sir  Maurice  Beevor  had  set 
Gaussen  upon  him  ;  his  reverence  was  coming  with  the  papers 
concerning  Norman's  birth,  which  Beevor  wanted  in  order  to 
extort  money  from  the  countess,  Gaussen  was,  however, 
obliged  to  run  before  he  got  the  papers  ;  and  the  clergyman 
had  time,  before  he  died,  to  tell  Norman  the  story,  and  give 
him  the  documents,  with  which  Norman  sped  off  to  the  castle 
to  have  an  interview  with  his  mother. 

He  lays  his  white  cloak  and  hat  on  the  table,  and  begs  to 
be  left  alone  with  her  ladyship.  Lord  Ashdale,  who  is  in  the 
room,  surlily  quits  it ;  but,  going  out,  cunningly  puts  on  Nor- 
man's cloak.  "  It  will  be  dark,"  says  he,  "  down  at  the  chapel  ; 
Violet  won't  know  me  ;  and,  egad !   I'll  run  off  with  her!  " 

Norman  has  his  interview.  Her  ladyship  acknowledges 
him,  for  she  cannot  help  it  ;  but  will  not  embrace  him,  lo\"e 
him,  or  have  anything  to  do  with  him. 

Away  he  goes  to  the  chapeL  His  chaplain  was  there  wait- 
ing to  marry  him  to  Violet,  his  boat  was  there  to  carry  him  on 
board  his  ship,  and  Violet  Avas  there,  too. 

"  Norman,"   says  she,  in  the  dark,  "  dear  Norman,  I  knew 


532         THE  MEMOIRS  OF  ISIR.  C.J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

you  by  your  white  cloak  ;  here  I  am."  And  she  and  the  maiT 
in  a  cloak  go  off  to  the  inner  chapel  to  be  married. 

There  waits  Master  Gaussen  ;  he  has  seized  the  chaplain 
and  the  boat's  crew,  and  is  just  about  to  murder  the  man  in  the 
cloak,  when — 

Nonnan  rushes  in  and  cuts  him  down,  m.uch  to  the  surprise 
of  Miss,  for  she  never  suspected  it  was  sly  Ashdale  who  had 
con^e,  as  we  have  seen,  disguised^  and  very  nearly  paid  for  his 
masquerading. 

Ashdale  is  very  grateful ;  but,  when  Norman  persists  in  mar- 
rying Violet,  he  says — no,  he  sha'n't.  He  shall  fight  ;  he  is  a 
ccnvard  if  he  doesn't  fight.  Norman  flings  down  his  sword,  and 
says  he  tmn't  fight  ;  and — 

Lady  Arundel,  who  has  been  at  prayers  all  this  time,  rush- 
ing in,  says,  "Hold!  this  is  your  brother,  Percy — your  elder 
brother!  "  Here  is  some  restiveness  on  Ashdale's  part,  but  he 
finishes  by  embracing  his  brother. 

Norman  burns  all  the  papers  ;  vows  he  will  never  peach  ; 
reconciles  himself  with  his  mother;  says  he  will  go  loser;  but,, 
having  ordered  his  ship  to  "  veer  "  round  to  the  chapel,  orders 
it  to  veer  back  again,  for  he  will  pass  the  honeymoon  at  Arun- 
del Castle.    « 

As  you  have  been  pleased  to  ask  my  opinion,  it  strikes  me 
that  there  are  one  or  two  very  good  notions  in  this  plot,  -  But 
the  author  does  not  fail,  as  he  would  modestly  have  us  believe^ 
from  ignorance  of  stage-business  ;  he  seems  to  know  too  much, 
rather  than  too  little,  about  the  stage  ;  to  be  too  anxious  to- 
cram  in  effects,  incidents,  perplexities.  There  is  the  perplexity 
concerning  Ashdale's  murder,  and  Norman's  murder,  and  the 
priest's  murder,  and  the  page's  murder,  and  Gaussen's  murder. 
There  is  the  perplexity  about  the  papers,  and  that  about  the 
hat  and  cloak  (a  silly,  foolish  obstacle),  which  only  tantalize 
the  spectator,  and  retard  the  march  of  the  drama's  action  :  it 
is  as  if  the  author  had  said,  "I  must  have  a  new  incident  in 
every  act,  I  must  keep  tickling  the  spectator  perpetually,  and 
never  let  him  off  until  the  fall  of  the  curtain." 

The  same  disagreeable  bustle  and  petty  complication  of  in- 
trigue you  may  remark  in  the  author's  drama  of  "  Richelieu."' 
"  The  Lady  of  Lyons"  was  a  much  simpler  and  better  wrought 
plot ;  the  incidents  following  each  other  either  not  too  swiftly 
or  ;>tartlingly.  In  "  Richelieu,"  it  alwa3'S  seemed  to  me  as  if  one 
heard  doors  perpetually  clapping  and  banging  ;  one  was  puzzled 
to  follow  the  train  of  conversation,  in  the  midst  of  the  perpetual 
small  noises  that  distracted  one  right  and  left. 


EPISTLES  TO  THE  LITER  A  TL 


^ZZ 


Nor  is  the  list  of  characters  of  "  The  Sea  Captain  "  to  be 
despised.  The  outlines  of  all  of  them  are  good.  A  mother, 
for  whom  one  feels  a  proper  tragic  mixture  of  hatred  and  pity ; 
a  gallant  single-hearted  son,  whom  she  disdains,  and  who  con- 
quers her  at  last  by  his  noble  conduct ;  a  dasliing  haughty 
Tybalt  of  a  brother ;  a  wicked  poor  cousin,  a  pretty  maid,  and 
a  fierce  buccaneer.  These  people  might  pass  three  hours  very 
well  on  the  stage,  and  interest  the  audience  hugely  ;  but  the 
author  fails  in  filling  up  the  outlines.  His  language  is  absurdly 
stilted,  frequently  careless  ;  the  reader  or  spectator  hears  a 
number  of  loud  speeches,  but  scarce  a  dozen  lines  that  seem 
to  belong  of  nature  to  the  speaker. 

Nothing  can  be  more  fulsome  or  loathsome  to  my  mind  than 
the  continual  sham-religious  clap-traps  which  the  author  has  put 
into  the  mouth  of  his  hero  ;  nothing  more  unsailor-like  than  his 
namby-pamby  starlit  descriptions,  which  my  ingenious  colleague 
has,  I  see,  alluded  to.  "  Thy  faith  my  anchor,  and  thine  eyes 
my  haven,"  cries  the  gallant  captain  to  his  lady.  See  how 
loosely  the  sentence  is  constructed,  like  a  thousand  others  in 
the  book.  The  captain  is  to  cast  anchor  with  the  girl's  faith  in 
her  own  eyes  ;  either  image  might  pass  by  itself,  but  together, 
like  the  quadrupeds  of  Kilkenny,  they  devour  each  other,"  The 
captain  tells  his  lieutenant  to  bid  his  harJz  veer  round  to  a  point 
in  the  harbor.  Was  ever  such  language  }  My  lady  gives  Sir 
Maurice  a  thousand  pounds  to  waft  him  (her  son)  to  some  dis- 
tant shore.  Nonsense,  sheer  nonsense  ;  and  what  is  worse, 
afi^ected  nonsense  ! 

Look  at  the  comedy  of  the  poor  cousin.  '■^  There  is  a  great 
deal  of  game  on  the  estate — partridges,  hares,  wild-geese,  snipes, 
and  plovers  {smacking  his  tips) — besides  a  magnificent  preserve 
of  sparrows,  which  I  can  sell  to  the  little  blackguards  in  tlie 
streets  at  a  penny  a  hundred.  But  I  am  very  poor — a  very 
poor  old  knight  !  " 

Is  this  wit  or  nature  ?  It  is  a  kind  of  sham  wit ;  it  reads  as 
if  it  were  wit,  but  it  is  not.  What  poor,  poor  stuff,  about  the 
little  blackguard  boys  !  what  flimsy  ecstasies  and  silly  "smack- 
ing of  lips  "  about  the  plovers.  Is  this  the  man  who  writes  foi 
.the  next  age  ?     O  fie  1     Here  is  another  joke  : — 

"  Sir  Maurice.     Mice  !  zo^inds,  how  can  I 
Keep  mice !      I  can't  afford  it  !     Tliey  were  starved 
To  death  an  age  ago.     The  last  was  found 
Come  Christmas  three  years,  stretched  beside  a  bone 
In  that  same  larder,  soconstimed  and  woTi 
By  pious  fast,  'twas  awfnl  to  behold  it! 
I  canonized  its  corpse  in  spirits  of  wine, 
And  set  it  in  the  porch — a  solemn  warning 
To  thieves  and  beggars!  " 


534         ^^^  MEMOIRS  OF  MR.  C.  J.    YELLOWPLUSH. 

Is  not  this  rare  wit  ?  "Zounds,  how  can  I  keep  mice  ?  "  is 
well  enough  for  a  miser  ;  not  too  new,  or  brilliant  either ;  but 
this  miserable  dilution  of  a  thin  joke,  this  wretched  hunting 
down  of  the  poor  mouse  !  It  is  humiliating  to  think  of  a  man 
of  esprit  harping  so  long  on  such  a  mean,  pitiful  string.  A  man 
who  aspires  to  immortality,  too  !  I  doubt  whether  it  is  to  be 
gained  thus ;  whether  our  author's  words  are  not  too  loosely 
built  to  make  "  starry  pointing  pyramids  of."  Horace  clipped 
and  squared  his  blocks  more  carefully  before  he  laid  the  monu- 
ment which  imbcr  edax  or  aquila  impotais,  or  fuga  tcmporunt 
might  assail  in  vain.  Even  old  Ovid,  when  he  raised  his  stately, 
shining  heathen  temple,  had  placed  some  columns  in  it,  and 
hewn  out  a  statue  or  two  which  deserved  the  immortality  that 
he  prophesied  (somewhat  arrogantly)  for  himself.  But  let  not 
all  be  looking  forward  to  a  future,  and  fancying  that,  "  incerti 
spathim  dumjitiiat  cevi,'''  our  books  are  to  be  immortal.  Alas  ! 
the  way  to  immortality  is  not  so  easy,  nor  will  our  "  Sea  Cap- 
tain "  be  permitted  such  an  unconscionable  cruise.  If  all  the 
immortalities  were  really  to  have  their  wish,  what  a  work  would 
our  descendants  have  to  study  them  all ! 

Nat  yet,  in  my  humble  opinion,  has  the  honorable  baronet 
achieved  this  deathless  consummation.  There  will  come  a  day 
(may  it  be  long  distant !)  when  the  very  best  of  his  novels  will 
be  forgotten ;  and  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  his  dramas 
.  will  pass  out  of  existence,  some  time  or  other,  in  the  lapse  of 
the  secida  scculorum.  In  the  meantime,  my  dear  Plush,  if  you 
ask  me  what  the  great  obstacle  is  towards  the  dramatic  fame 
and  merit  of  our  friend,.  I  would  say  that  it  does  not  lie  so 
much  in  hostile  critics  or  feeble  health,  as  in  a  careless  habit 
of  writing,  and  a  peevish  vanity  which  causes  him  to  shut  his 
eyes  to  his  faults.  The  question  of  original  capacity  I  will  not 
moot  ;  one  may  think  very  highly  of  the  honorable  baronet's 
talent,  without  rating  it  quite  so  high  as  he  seems  disposed 
to  do. 

And  to  conclude  :  as  he  has  chosen  to  combat  the  critics 
in  person,  the  critics  are  surely  justified  in  being  allowed  to 
address  him  directly. 

With  best  compliments  to  Mrs.  Yellowplusli, 
I  have  the  honor  to  be,  dear  Sir, 

Your  most  faithful  and  obliged 
humble  servant, 

John  Thomas  Smith. 

And  now,  Smith  having  finisht  his  letter,  I  think  I  can't  do 


EPISTLE  TO  THE  LITTER  ATI. 


53S 


better  than  clothes  mine  lickwise  ;  for  though  I  should  never  be 
tired  of  talking,  praps  the  public  may  of  hearing,  and  therefore 
it's  best  to  shut  up  shopp. 

What  I've  said,  respected  Barnit,  I  hoap  you  woan't  take 
unkind.  A  play,  you  see,  is  public  proj^erty  for  every  one  to 
say  his  say  on ;  and  I  think,  if  you  read  your  prefez  over  agin, 
you'll  see  that  it  ax  as  a  direct  incouridgment  to  us  critix  to 
come  forrard  and  notice  you.  But  don't  fansy,  I  besitch  you, 
that  we  are  actiated  by  hostillaty  ;  fust  write  a  good  play,  and 
you'll  see  we'll  prays  it  fast  enuff.  Waiting  which,  Agray, 
Mtinseer  Ic  C/ievaleer,  rashurance  de  ma  hoi  cumsida-atim. 
•  Voter  disiaiigy. 

Y. 

Yellowplush  Papers. 


FITZ-BOODLE     PAPERS. 


THE 

FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS/^ 


FITZ-BOODLE'S   CONFESSIONS 


PREFACE. 

GEORGE   FITZ-BOODLE,    ESQCTIRE,   TG  OLIVER   YORKE,    ESQUIRE, 

Omnium  Club,  May  20,  1842. 

Dear  Sir, — I  have  always  been  considered  the  third-best 
whist-player  in  Europe,  and  (though  never  betting  more  than 
five  pounds)  have  for  many  years  past  added  considerably  to 
my  yearly  income  by  my  skill  in  the  game,  until  the  commencQ- 
ment  of  the  present  season,  when  a  French  gentleman.  Mon- 
sieur Lalouette,  was  admitted  to  the  club  where  I  usually  play. 
His  skill  and  reputation  were  so  great,  that  no  men  of  the  club 
were  inclined  to  play  against  us  two  of  a  side  ;  and  the  con- 
sequence has  been,  that  we  have  been  in  a  manner  pitted 
against  one  another.  By  a  strange  turn  of  luck  (for  I  cannot 
admit  the  idea  of  his  superiority),  Fortune,  since  the  French- 
man's arrival,  has  been  almost  constantly  against  me,  and  I 
have  lost  two-and-thirty  nights  in  the  course  of  a  couple  of 
score  of  nights'  play. 

Everybody  knows  that  I  am  a  poor  man  ;  and  so  much 
has  Lalouette's  luck  drained  my  finances,  that  only  last  week 
I  was  obliged  to  give  him  that  famous  gray  cob  which  you  have 
seen  me  riding  in  the  Park  (I  can't  afford  a  thorough-bred,  and 

♦  The  "  Fitz-Uoudle  P.^pci  s  "  first  appeared  in  Eraser's  Magazitte  for  the  year  1842. 

(537) 


538  THE  FJTZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

hate  a  cocktail), — I  was,  I  say,  forced  to  give  him  up  my  cob 
•in  exchange  for  four  ponies  which  I  owed  him.  Thus,  as  \ 
never  wallc,  being  a  heavy  man  whom  nobody  cares  to  mount, 
any  time  hangs  heavily  on  my  hands  ;  and  as  I  hate  home,  or 
that  apology  for  it  —  a  bachelor's  lodgings  —  and  as  I  have 
nothing  earthly  to  do  now  until  I  can  afford  to  purchase  another 
horse,  I  spend  my  time  in  sauntering  from  one  club  to  another, 
passing  many  rather  listless  hours  in  them  before  the  men 
come  in. 

You  will  say.  Why  not  take  to  backgammon  or  ecarte,  or 
amuse  yourself  with  a  book.?  -Sir  (putting  out  of  the  question 
the  fact  that  I  do  not  play  upon  credit),  I  make  a  point  never 
to  play  before  candles  are  lighted  ;  and  as  for  books,  I  must 
candidly  confess  to  you  I  am  not  a  reading  man.  'Twas  but 
the  other  day  that  some  one  recommended  me  to  read  3'our 
Magazine  after  dinner,  saying  it  contained  an  exceedingly  witty 
article  upon — I  forget  what.  I  give  you  my  honor,  sir,  that  I  took 
lip  the  work  at  six,  meaning  to  amuse  myself  till  seven,  when 
Lord  Trumpington's  dinner  was  to  come  off,  and  egad !  in  two 
minutes  I  fell  asleep,  and  never  woke  till  midnight.  Nobody 
ever  thought  of  looking  for  me  in  the  library,  where  nobody 
ever  goes  ;  and  so  ravenously  hungry  was  I,  that  I  was  obliged 
to  walk  off  to  Crockford's  for  supper. 

What  is  it  that  makes  you  literary  persons  so  stupkl  ?  I 
have  met  various  individuals  in  society  who  I  was  told  were 
writers  of  books,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  and  expecting  rather 
to  be  amused  by  their  conversation,  have  invariably  found  them 
dull  to  a  degree,  and  as  for  information,  without  a  particle  of 
it.  Sir,  I  actually  asked  one  of  these  fellows,  "  W^hat  was  the 
nick  to  seven  ?  "  and  he  stared  in  my  face,  and  said  he  didn't 
know.  He  was  hugely  overdressed  in  satin,  rings,  chains  and 
so  forth  ;  and  at  the  beginning  of  dinner  was  disposed  to  be 
rather  talkative  and  pert ;  but  my  little  sally  silenced  /«V;z,  I 
promise  you,  and  got  up  a  good  laugh  at  his  expense  too. 
"  Leave  George  alone,"  said  little  Lord  Cinqbars,  "  I  warrant 
he'll  be  a  match  for  any  of  you  literary  fellows."  Cinqbars  is 
no  great  wiseacre ;  but,  indeed,  it  requires  no  great  wiseacre  to 
know  tJiat. 

What  is  the  simple  deduction  to  be  drawn  from  this  truth  ? 
Why,  this — that  a  man  to  be  amusing  and  well-informed,  has 
no  need  of  books  at  all,  and  had  much  better  go  to  the  world 
and  to  men  for  his  knowledge.  There  was  Ulysses,  now,  the 
Greek  fellow  engaged  in  the  Trojan  war,  as  I  dare  say  you 
know;    well,  lie   was  the    cleverest   jnan  possil:)le,   and  how? 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  53CJ 

From  having  seen  men  and  cities,  their  manners  noted  and 
their  realms  surv^eyed,  to  be  sure.  So  have  L  I  have  been 
in  every  capital,  and  can  order  a  dinner  in  every  language  in 
Europe. 

INIy  notion,  then,  is  this.  I  have  a  great  deal  of  spare  tim.e 
on  my  hands,  and  as  I  am  told  you  pay  a  handsome  sum  to 
persons  writing  for  you,  I  will  furnish  you  occasionally  with 
some  of  my  views  upon  men  and  things  ;  occasional  histories  of 
my  acquaintance,  which  I  think  may  amuse  you ;  personal  nar- 
ratives of  my  own  ;  essays,  and  what  not.  I  am  told  that  I  do 
not  spell  correctly.  This,  of  course,  I  don't  know  ;  but  you 
will  remember  that  Richelieu  and  Marlborough  could  not  spell, 
and,  egad  !  I  am  an  honest  man,  and  desire  to  be  no  better 
than  they.  I  know  that  it  is  the  matter,  and  not  the  manner, 
which  is  of  importance.  Have  the  goodness,  then,  to  let  one 
of  your  understrappers  correct  the  spelling  and  the  grammar  of 
my  papers  ;  and  you  can  give  him  a  few  shillings  in  my  name 
for  his  trouble. 

Begging  you  to  accept  the  assurance  of  my  high  consider- 
ation, I  am,  sir, 

Your  obedient  ser\'ant, 

George  Savage  Fitz-Boodle. 

P.S. — By  the  way,  I  have  said  in  my  letter  that  I  found  all 
literary  persons  vulgar  and  dull.  Permit  me  to  contradict  this 
with  regard  to  yourself.  I  met  you  once  at  Blackwall,  I  think 
it  was,  and  really  did  not  remark  anything  offensive  in  your 
accent  or  appearance. 


Before  commencing  the  series  of  moral  disquisitions,  (S:c., 
which  I  intend,  the  reader  may  as  well  know  who  I  am,  and 
what  my  past  course  of  life  has  been.  To  say  that  I  am  a  Fitz- 
Boodle  is  to  say  at  once  that  I  am  a  gentleman.  Our  family 
has  held  the  estate  of  Boodle  ever  since  the  reign  of  Henry  II. ; 
and  it  is  out  of  no  ill-will  to  my  elder  brother,  or  unnatural 
desire  for  his  death,  but  only  because  the  estate  is  a  very  good 
one,  that  I  wish  heartily  it  was  mine  :  I  would  say  as  much  of 
Chatsworth  or  Eaton  Hall. 

I  am  not,  in  the  first  place,  what  is  called  a  ladies'  man, 
having  contracted  an  irrepressible  habit  of  smoking  after 
dinner,  which  has  obliged  me  to  give  up  a  great  deal  of  the 
dear  creatures'  society;  nor  can  I  go  much  to  country-houses 

35 


540  ^-^^  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

for  the  same  reason.  Say  what  they  will,  ladies  do  not  like  you 
to  smoke  in  their  bedrooms  ;  their  silly  little  noses  scent  out 
the  odor  upon  the  chintz,  weeks  after  you  have  left  them.  Sit 
John  has  been  caught  coming  to  bed  particularly  merry  and 
redolent  of  cigar  smoke ;  young  George,  from  Eaton,  was 
absolutely  found  in  the  little  green-house  puffing  an  Havana; 
and  when  discovered,  they  both  lay  the  blame  upon  Fitz-Boodle.' 
"  It  was  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle,  mamma,"  says  George,  "  who  offered 
me  the  cigar,  and  I  did  not  like  to  refuse  him."  "  That  rascal 
Fitz  seduced  us,  my  dear,"  said  Sir  John,  "and  kept  us  laugh 
ing  until  past  midnight."  Her  ladyship  instantly  sets  me  down 
as  a  person  to  be  avoided.  "  George,"  whispers  she  to  her 
boy,  "  promise  me,  on  your  honor,  when  you  go  to  town,  not 
to  know  that  man."  And  when  she  enters  the  breakfast-room 
for  prayers,  the  first  greeting  is  a  peculiar  expression  of  coun- 
tenance, and  inhaling  of  breath,  by  which  my  lady  indicates 
the  presence  of  some  exceedingly  disagreeable  odor  in  the  room. 
She  makes  you  the  faintest  of  curtseys,  and  regards  you.  if  not 
with  a  "flashing  eye,"  as  in  the  novels,  at  least  with  a  "distend- 
ed nostril."  During  the  whole  of  the  service,  her  heart  is  filled 
with  the  blackest  gall  towards  you ;  and  she  is  thinking  about 
the  best  means  of  getting  you  out  of  the  house. 

What  is  this  smoking  that  it  shouM  be  considered  a  crime  >. 
I  believe  in  my  heart  that  women  are  jealous  of  it,  as  of  a  rival. 
They  speak  of  it  as  of  some  secret,  awful  vice  that  seizes  upon 
a  man,  and  makes  him  a  pariah  from  genteel  society.  I  would 
lay  a  guinea  that  many  a  lady  who  has  just  been  kind  enough 
to  read  the  above  lines  lays  down  the  book,  after  this  confession 
of  mine  that  I  am  a  smoker,  and  says,  "  Oh,  the  vulgar  wretch  !  " 
and  passes  on  to  something  else. 

'y\\&  fact  is,  that  the  cigar  is  a  rival  to  the  ladies,  and 
their  conqueror  too.  In  the  chief  pipe-smoking  nations  they 
are  kept  in  subjection.  While  the  chief.  Little  White  IJelt, 
smokes,  the  women  are  silent  in  his  wigwam  ;  while  Mahomet 
Ben  Jawbrahim  causes  volumes  of  odorous  incense  of  Latakia 
to  play  round  his  beard,  the  women  of  the  harem  do  not  dis- 
turb his  meditations,  but  only  add  to  the  delight  of  them  by 
tinkling  on  a  dulcimer  and  dancing  before  him.  When  Pro- 
fessor Strumpff  of  Gottingen  takes  down  No.  13  from  the  wall, 
with  a  picture  of  Beatrice  Cenci  upon  it,  and  which  holds  a 
pound  of  canaster,  the  frau  Professorin  knows  that  for  two 
hours  Hermann  is  engaged,  and  takes  up  her  stockings  and 
knits  in  quiet.  'I'lic  constitution  of  French  society  has  been 
quite  ciiangt'd   vilhin   the  last   twelve   years:  an   ancient   and 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS. 


541 


respectable  dynasty  has  been  overthrown  ;  an  aristocracy  which 
Napoleon  could  never  master  has  disappeared  :  and  from  what 
cause  ?  I  do  not  hesitate  to  sdiy,— from  the  habit  of  smoking. 
Ask  any  man  whether,  five  years  before  the  revolution  of  July, 
if  you  wanted  a  cigar  at  Paris,  they  did  not  bring  you  a  roll  of 
tobacco  with  a  straw  in  it  ?  Now,  the  whole  city  smokes  j 
society  is  changed  ;  and  be  sure  of  this,  ladies,  a  similar  com- 
bat is  going  on  in  this  country  at  present  between  cigar-smoking 
and  you.  Do  you  suppose  you  will  conquer  ?  Look  over  the 
wide  world,  and  see  that  your  adversary  has  overcome  it. 
Germany  has  been  puffing  for  threescore  years  ;  France  smokes 
to  a  man.  Do  you  think  you  can  keep  the  enemy  out  of  Eng- 
land .''  Psha !  look  at  his  progress.  Ask  the  club-houses, 
Have  they  smoking-rooms,  or  not  ?  Are  they  not  obliged  to 
yield  to  the  general  want  of  the  age,  in  spite  of  the  resistance 
of  the  old  women  on  the  committees  ?  I,  for  my  part,  do  not 
despair  to  see  a  bishop  lolling  out  of  the  "  Athenaeum  "  with  a 
cheroot  in  his  mouth,  or,  at  any  rate,  a  pipe  stuck  in  his  shovel- 
hat. 

But  as  in  all  great  causes  and  in  promulgating  new  and 
illustrious  theories,  their  first  propounders  and  exponents  are 
generally  the  victims  of  their  enthusiasm,  of  course  the  first 
preachers  of  smoking  have  been  martyrs,  too  ;  and  George 
Fitz-Boodle  is  one.  The  first  gas-man  was  ruined ;  the  in- 
ventor of  steam-engine  printing  became  a  pauper.  I  began  to 
smoke  in  days  when  the  task  was  one  of  some  danger,  and  paid 
the  jDcnalty  of  my  crime.  I  was  flogged  most  fiercely  for  my 
first  cigar ;  for,  being  asked  to  dine  one  Sunday  evening  with  a 
half-pay  colonel  of  dragoons  (the  gallant,  simple,  humorous 
Shortcut — heaven  bless  him  ! — I  have  had  many  a  guinea  from 
him  who  had  so  few),  he  insisted  upon  my  smoking  in  his  room 
at  the  "  Salopian,"  and  the  consequence  was,  that  I  became  so 
violently  ill  as  to  be  reported  intoxicated  upon  my  return  to 
Slaughter-House  School,  where  I  was  a  boarder,  and  I  was 
whipped  the  next  morning  for  my  peccadillo.  At  Christ 
Church,  one  of  our  tutors  was  the  celebrated  lamented  Otto 
Rose,  who  would  have  been  a  bishop  under  the  present  Gov- 
ernment, had  not  an  immoderate  indulgence  in  water-gruel 
cut  short  his  elegant  and  useful  career.  He  was  a  good  man, 
a  pretty  scholar  and  poet  (the  episode  upon  the  discovery  of 
eau-de-Cologne,  in  his  prize-poem  on  "  The  Rhine,"  was  con- 
sidered a  masterpiece  of  art,  though  I  am  not  much  of  a  judge 
myself  upon  such  matters),  and  he  was  as  remarkable  for  his 
fondness  for  a  tuft  as  for  his  nervous  antipathy  to  tobacco.     As 


542 


THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 


ill-luck  would  have  it,  my  rooms  (in  Tom  Quad)  were  exactly 
under  his ;  and  I  was  grown  by  this  time  to  be  a  confirmed 
smoker.  I  was  a  baronet's  son  (we  are  of  Tames  the  First's 
creation),  and  I  do  believe  our  tutor  could  have  pardoned  any 
crime  in  the  world  but  this.  He  had  seen  me  in  a  tandem,  and 
at  that  moment  was  seized  with  a  violent  fit  of  sneezing — 
(sternutatory  paroxysm  he  called  it)  —  at  the  conclusion  of 
which  I  was  a  mile  down  the  Woodstock  Road.  He  had  seen 
me  in  pink,  as  we  used  to  call  it,  swaggering  in  the  open  sun- 
shine across  a  grass-plot  in  the  court ;  but  spied  out  oppor- 
tunely a  servitor,  one  Todhunter  by  name,  who  was  going  to 
morning  chapel  with  his  shoestring  untied,  and  forthwith 
sprung  towards  that  unfortunate  person,  to  set  him  an  imposi- 
tion. Everything,  in  fact,  but  tobacco  he  could  forgive.  Why 
did  cursed  fortune  bring  him  into  the  rooms  over  mine  ?  The 
odor  of  the  cigars  made  his  gentle  spirit  quite  furious  ;  and  one 
luckless  morning,  when  I  was  standing  before  my  "  oak,"  and 
chanced  to  puff  a  great  boiiffce  of  Varinas  into  his  face,  he  for- 
got his  respect  for  my  family  altogether  (I  was  the  second  son, 
and  my  brother  a  sickly  creature  then, — he  is  now  sixteen  stone 
in  weight,  and  has  a  half-score  of  children)  ;  gave  me  a  severe 
lecture,  to  which  I  replied  rather  hotly,  as  was  my  wont.  And 
then  came  demand  for  an  apology  ;  refusal  on  my  part ;  appeal 
to  the  dean  ;  convocation ;  and  rustication  of  George  Savage 
Fitz-Boodle, 

My  father  had  taken  a  second  wife  (of  the  noble  house  of 
Flintskinner),  and  Lady  Fitz-  Boodle  detested  smoking,  as  a  wo- 
man of  her  high  principles  should.  She  had  an  entire  mastery 
over  the  worthy  old  gentleman,  and  thought  I  wa^  a  sort  of 
demon  of  wickedness.  The  old  man  went  down  to  his  grave 
with  some  similar  notion, — heaven  help  him  !  and  left  me  but 
the  wretched  twelve  thousand  pounds  secured  to  me  on  my 
poor  mother's  property. 

In  the   army,  my  luck  was  much  the  same.     I  joined  the 

• th  Lancers,  Lieut.-Col.  Lord  Martingale,  in  the  year  1817. 

I  only  did  duty  with  the  regiment  for  three  months.  We  were 
quartered  at  Cork,  where  I  found  the  Irish  doodheen  and 
tobacco  the  pleasantest  smoking  possible  ;  and  was  found  by 
his  lordship,  one  day  upon  stable  duty,  smoking  the  shortest, 
dearest  little  dumpy  clay-pipe  in  the  world. 

"  Cornet  Fitz-ljoodle,"  said  my  lord,  in  a  towering  passion., 
'Irom  what  blackguard  did  you  get  that  pipe  ?  " 

I  omit  the  oaths  which  garnished  invariably  his  lordship's 
coiiversalion. 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS. 


543 


•*I  got  it,  my  lord,"  said  I,  "from  one  Terence  Mullins,  a 
jingle-driver,  with  a  packet  of  his  peculiar  tobacco.  You  some- 
times smoke  Turkish,  I  believe  ;  do  try  this.  Isn't  it  good  ?  " 
And  in  the  simplest  way  in  the  world  I  puffed  a  volume  into  his 
face.  "I  see  you  like  it,"  said  I  so  coolly,  that  the  men — and  1 
do  believe  the  horses — burst  out  laughing. 

He  started  back — choking  almost,  and  recovered  himself 
only  to  vent  such  a  storm  of  oaths  and  curses  that  I  was  com- 
pelled to  request  Capt  Rawdon  (the  captain  on  duty)  to  take 
note  of  his  lordship's  words  ;  and  imluckily  could  not  help 
adding  a  question  which  settled  my  business.  "  You  were  good 
enough,"  I  said,  '•  to  ask  me,  my  lord,  from  what  blackguard  I 
got  my  pipe  ;  might  I  ask  from  what  blackguard  you  learned 
your  language  ?  " 

This  was  quite  enough.  Had  I  said,  "  From  what  gefitleman 
did  your  lordship  learn  3'Our  language  ?  "  the  point  would  have 
been  quite  as  good,  and  my  Lord  Martingale  would  have  suf- 
fered in  my  place  :  as  it  was,  I  was  so  strongly  recommended 
to  sell  out  by  his  Royal  Highness  the  Commander-in-Chief, 
that,  being  of  a  good-natured  disposition,  never  knowing  how 
to  refuse  a  friend,  I  at  once  threw  up  my  hopes  of  military 
distinction  and  retired  into  civil  life. 

My  lord  was  kind  enough  to  meet  me  afterwards  in  a  field 
in  the  Gianmire  Road,  where  he  put  a  ball  into  my  leg.  This 
I  returned  to  him  some  years  later  with  about  twenty-three 
others — black  ones — when  he  came  to  be  balloted  for  at  a 
club  of  which  I  have  the  honor  to  be  a  member. 

Thus  by  the  indulgence  of  a  simple  and  harmless  propen- 
sity,— of  a  projDensity  which  can  inflict  an  injury  upon  no 
person  or  thing  except  the  coat  and  the  person  of  him  who  in- 
dulges in  it, — of  a  custom  honored  and  observed  in  almost  all 
the  nations  of  the  world, — of  a  custom  which,  far  from  leading 
a  man  into  any  wickedness  or  dissipation  to  which  youth  is 
subject,  on  the  contrary,  begets  only  benevolent  silence  and 
thoughtful  good-humored  observation — I  found  at  the  age  of 
twenty  all  my  prospects  in  life  destroyed.  I  cared  not  for 
woman  in  those  days  :  the  calm  smoker  has  a  sweet  companion 
in  his  pipe.  I  did  not  drink  immoderately  of  wine  ;  for  though 
a  friend  to  trifling  potations,  to  excessively  strong  drinks 
tobacco  is  abhorrent.  I  never  thought  of  gambling,  for  the 
lover  of  the  pipe  has  no  need  of  such  excitement ;  but  I  was 
considered  a  monster  of  dissipation  in  my  family,  and  bade  fait 
to  come  to  ruin. 

"  Look  at  George,"  my  mother-in-law  said  to  the  genteel 


544  ^-^-^  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

and  correct  young  Fllntskinners.  "  He  entered  the  world  with 
every  prospect  in  life,  and  see  in  what  an  abyss  of  degradation 
his  fatal  habits  have  plunged  him  !  At  school  he  was  flogged 
and  disgraced,  he  was  disgraced  and  rusticated  at  the  university, 
he  was  disgraced  and  expelled  from  the  army  !  He  might  have 
had  the  living  of  Boodle  "  (her  ladyship  gave  it  to  one  of  her 
nephews),  "but  he  would  not  take  his  degree  :  his  papa  would 
have  purchased  him  a  troop — nay,  a  lieutenant-colonelcy  some 
day,  but  for  his  fatal  excesses.  And  now  as  long  as  my  dear 
husband  will  listen  to  the  voice  of  a  wife  who  adores  him — • 
never,  never  shall  he  spend  a  shilling  upon  so  worthless  a  young 
man.  He  has  a  small  income  from  his  mother  (I  cannot  but 
think  that  the  first  Lady  Fitz-Boodle  was  a  weak  and  misguided 
person)  ;  let  him  live  upon  his  mean  pittance  as  he  can,  and  I 
heartily  pray  we  may  not  hear  of  him  in  jail  ! " 

My  brother,  after  he  came  to  the  estate,  married  the  ninth 
daughter  of  our  neighbor.  Sir  John  Spreadeagle  ;  and  Boodle 
Hall  has  seen  a  new  little  Fitz-boodle  with  every  succeeding 
spring.  The  dowager  retired  to  Scotland  with  a  large  jointure 
and  a  wondrous  heap  of  savings.  Lady  Fitz  is  a  good  creature, 
but  she  thinks  me  something  diabolical,  trembles  when  she 
sees  me,  and  gathers  all  her  children  about  her,  rushes  into  the 
nursery  whenever  I  pay  that  little  seminary  a  visit,  and  actually 
slapped  poor  little  Frank's  ears  one  day  when  I  was  teaching 
him  to  ride  upon  the  back  of  a  Newfoundland  dog. 

"  George,"  said  my  brother  to  me  the  last  time  I  paid  him 
a  visit  at  the  old  hall,  "  don't  be  angry,  my  dear  fellow,  but 
Maria  is  in  a — hum — in  a  delicate  situation,  expecting  her — ■ 
hum  " — (the  eleventh) — "  and  do  you  know  you  frighten  her  ? 
It  was  but  yesterday  you  met  her  in  the  rookery — you  were 
smoking  that  enormous  German  pipe — and  when  she  came  in 
she  had  an  hysterical  seizure,  and  Drench  says  that  in  her  situ- 
ation it's  dangerous.  And  I  say,  George,  if  you  go  to  town 
you'll  find  a  couple  of  hundred  at  your  banker's."  And  with 
this  the  poor  fellow  shook  me  by  the  hand,  and  called  for  a 
fresh  bottle  of  claret. 

Afterwards  he  told  me,  with  many  hesitations,  that  my  room 
at  Boodle  Hall  had  been  made  into  a  second  nursery.  I  see 
my  sister-in-law  in  I^ondon  twice  or  thrice  in  the  season,  and 
the  little  people,  who  have  almost  forgotten  to  call  me  uncle 
George. 

It's  hard,  too,  for  I  am  a  lonely  man  after  all,  and  my  heart 
yearns  to  them.  The  other  day  I  smuggled  a  couple  of  them 
into  my  chambers,  and  had  a  little  feast  of  cream  and  straw* 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  ^45 

»- 
berries  to  welcome  them.  But  it  had  like  to  have  cost  the 
nursery-maid  (a  Swiss  girl  that  Fitz-Boodle  hired  somewhere  in 
his  travels)  her  place.  My  step-mamma,  who  happened  to  be 
in  town,  came  flying  down  in  her  chariot,  pounced  upon  the 
poor  thing  and  the  children  in  the  midst  of  the  entertainment ; 
and  when  I  asked  her,  with  rather  a  bad  grace  to  be  sure,  to 
take  a  chair  and  a  share  of  the  feast — 

"  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle,"  said  she,  "  I  am  not  accustomed  to  sit 
down  in  a  place  that  smells  of  tobacco  like  an  ale-house — an 
ale-house  inhabited  by  a  serpetit,  sir  !  A  serpent ! — do  you  under- 
stand me  ? — who  carries  his  poison  into  his  brother's  own  house, 
and  purshues  his  eenfamous  designs  before  his  brother's  own 
children.  Put  on  Miss  Maria's  bonnet  this  instant.  Mamsell, 
oiitondy-voo  ?  Metty  le  bonny  a  mamsell.  And  I  shall  take 
care,  Mamsell,  that  you  return  to  Switzerland  to-morrow.  I've 
no  doubt  you  are  a  relation  of  Courvoisier — oui !  oui !  Conr- 
voisicr,  vous  cofnprenny — and  you  shall  certainly  be  sent  back  to 
your  friends." 

With  this  speech,  and  with  the  children  and  their  maid  sob- 
bing before  her,  my  lady  retired  ;  but  for  once  my  sister-in-law 
was  on  my  side,  not  liking  the  meddlement  of  the  elder  lady. 

I  know,  then,  that  from  indulging  in  that  simple  habit  of 
smoking,  I  have  gained  among  the  ladies  a  dreadful  reputation. 
I  see  that  they  look  coolly  upon  me,  and  darkly  at  their  hus- 
bands when  they  arrive  at  home  in  my  company.  Men,  I  ob- 
serve, in  consequence,  ask  me  to  dine  much  oftener  at  the 
club,  or  the  "  Star  and  Garter  "  at  Richmond,  or  at  "  Love- 
grove's,"  than  in  their  own  houses  ;  and  with  this  sort  of  ar- 
rangement I  am  fain  to  acq-uiesce  ;  for,  as  I  said  before,  I  am 
of  an  easy  temper,  and  can  at  any  rate  take  my  cigar-case  out 
after  dinner  at  Blackwall,  when  my  lady  or  the  duchess  is  not 
by.^  I  know,  of  course,  the  best  men  in  town  ;  and  as  for 
ladies'  society,  not  having  it  (for  I  will  have  none  of  your 
pseudo-ladies,  such  as  sometimes  honor  bachelors'  parties, — 
actresses,  couturieres,  opera-dancers,  and  so  forth)  —  as  for 
ladies'  society,  I  say,  I  cry  pish  !  'tis  not  worth  the  trouble  of 
the  complimenting,  and  the  bother  of  pumps  and  black  silk 
stockings. 

Let  any  man  remember  what  ladies'  society  was  when  he 
had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  them  among  themselves,  as  What- 
d'ye-call'im  does  in  the  Thesmophoria— (I  beg  pardon,  I  was 
on  the  verge  of  a  classical  allusion,  which  I  abominate) — I 
mean  at  that  period  of  his  life  when  the  intellect  is  pretty  acute, 
though  the  body  is  small — namely,  when  a  young  gentleman  is 


546 


THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 


about  efeven  years  of  age,  dining  at  his  father's  table  during 
the  holidays,  and  is  requested  by  his  papa  to  quit  the  dinner- 
table  when  the  ladies  retire  from  it. 

Corbleu  I  I  recollect  their  whole  talk  as  well  as  if  it  had 
been  whispered  but  yesterday  ;  and  can  see,  after  a  long  din- 
ner, the  yellow  summer  sun  throwing  long  shadows  over  the 
lawn  before  the  dining-room  windows,  and  my  poor  mother  and 
her  company  of  ladies  sailing  away  to  the  music-room  in  old 
Boodle  Hall.  The  Countess  Dawdley  was  the  great  lady  in 
our  county,  a  portly  lady  who  used  to  love  crimson  satin  in 
those  days,  and  birds  of  paradise.  She  was  flaxen-haired,  and 
the  Regent  once  said  she  resembled  one  of  King  Charles's 
beauties. 

When  Sir  John  Todcaster  used  to  begin  his  famous  story 
of  the  exciseman  (I  shall  not  tell  it  here,  for  very  good  reasons), 
my  poor  mother  used  to  turn  to  Lady  Dawdley,  and  give  that 
mystic  signal  at  which  all  females  rise  from  their  chairs. ,  Tuft- 
hunt,  the  curate,  would  spring  from  his  seat,  and  be  sure  to  be 
the  first  to  open  the  door  for  the  retreating  ladies  ;  and  my 
brother  Tom  and  I,  though  remaining  stoutly  in  our  places, 
were  speedily  ejected  from  them  by  the  governor's  invariable 
remark,  "  Tom  and  George,  if  you  have  had  quite  enough  of 
wine,  you  had  better  go  and  join  your  mamma."  Yonder  she 
marches,  heaven  bless  her  !  through  the  old  oak  hall  (how  long 
the  shadows  of  the  antlers  are  on  the  wainscot,  and  the  armor 
of  Rollo  Fitzboodle  looks  in  the  sunset  as  if  it  were  emblazoned 
with  rubies) — yonder  she  marches,  stately  and  tall,  in  her  in- 
variable pearl-colored  tabinet,  followed  by  Lady  Dawdley, 
blazing  like  a  flamingo  ;  next  comes  Lady  Emily  Tufthunt  (she 
was  Lady  Emily  Flintskinner),  who  will  not  for  all  the  world 
take  precedence  of  rich,  vulgar,  kind,  good-humored  Mrs.  Col- 
onel  Grogwater,  as  she  would  be  called,  with  a  yellow  little 
husband  from  Madras,  who  first  taught  me  to  drink  sangaree. 
He  was  a  new  arrival  in  our  county,  but  paid  nobly  to  the 
hounds,  and  occupied  hospitably  a  house  which  was  always 
famous  for  its  hospitality — Sievely  Hall  (poor  Bob  Cullender 
ran  through  seven  thousand  a  year  before  he  was  thirty  years 
old).  Once  when  I  was  a  lad.  Colonel  Grogwater  gave  me  two 
gold  mohurs  out  of  his  desk  for  whist-markers,  and  I'm  sorry  to 
say  I  ran  up  from  Eton  and  sold  them  both  for  seventy- three 
shillings  at  a  shop  in  Cornhill.  But  to  return  to  the  ladies, 
who  are  all  this  while  kept  waiting  in  the  hall,  and  to  their 
usual  conversation  after  dinner. 

Can  any  man  forget  how  miserably  flat  it  was  ?  Fiva 
matrons  sit  on  sofas,  and  talk  in  a  subdued  voice  : — 


F/TZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  547 

Fifsi  Lady  {mysteriously). — "My  dear  Lady  Dawdley,  do 
tell  me  about  poor  Susan  Tuckett." 

Second  Lady. — "All  three  children  are  perfectly  well,  and  1 
assure  you  as  fine  babies  as  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  I  made  her 
give  them  Daffey's  Elixir  the  first  day  ;  and  it  was  the  greatest 
mercy  that  I  had  some  of  Frederick's  baby-clothes  by  me  ;  for 
you  know  I  had  provided  Susan  with  sets  for  one  only,  and 
really " 

Third  Lady. — "  Of  course  one  couldn't ;  and  for  my  part  I 
think  your  ladyship  is  a  great  deal  too  kind  to  these  people. 
A  little  gardener's  boy  dressed  in  Lord  Dawdley's  frocks  indeed  ! 
I  recollect  that  one  at  his  christening  had  the  sweetest  lace  in 
the  world  !  " 

Fourth  Lady. — "  What  do  you  think  of  this,  ma'am — Lady 
Emily,  I  mean  }  I  have  just  had  it  from  Howell  and  James  : 
— guipure,  they  call  it.  Isn't  it  an  odd  name  for  lace  ?  And 
they  charge  me,  upon  my  conscience,  four  guineas  a  yard  !  " 

Third  Lady. — "  My  mother,  when  she  came  to  Flintskinner, 
had  lace  upon  her  robe  that  cost  sixty  guineas  a  yard,  ma'am  ! 
'Twas  sent  from  Malines  direct  by  our  relation,  the  Count 
d'Araignay." 

Fourth  Lady  {aside). — "  I  thought  she  would  not  let  the 
evening  pass  without  talking  of  her  Malines  lace  and  her  Count 
d'Araignay.  Odious  people  !  they  don't  spare  their  backs,  but 
they  pinch  their " 

Here  Tom  upsets  a  coffee-cup  over  his  white  jean  trousers, 
and  another  young  gentlemen  bursts  into  a  laugh,  saying,  "  By 
Jove,  that's  a  good  'un  !  " 

"George,  my  dear,"  says  mamma,  "had  not  you  and  your 
young  friend  better  go  into  the  garden  ?  But  mind,  no  fruit, 
or  Dr.  Glauber  must  be  called  in  again  immediately  !  "  And 
we  all  go,  and  in  ten  minutes  I  and  my  brother  are  fighting  in 
the  stables. 

If,  instead  of  listening  to  the  matrons  and  their  discourse, 
we  had  taken  the  opportunity  of  attending  to  the  conversation 
of  the  Misses,  we  should  have  heard  matter  not  a  whit  more 
interesting. 

First  Miss. — "  They  were  all  three  in  blue  crape  ;  you  never 
saw  anything  so  odious.  And  I  know  for  a  certainty  that  they 
wore  those  dresses  at  Muddlebury,  at  the  archery-ball,  and  I 
dare  say  they  had  them  in  town." 

Second  Miss. — "  Don't  you  think  Jemima  decidedly  crooked  ? 
And  those  fair  complexions  they  freckle  so,  that  really  M'ss 
Blanche  oujrht  to  be  called  Miss  Brown"." 


548  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

Third  Miss.—''  He,  he,  he  !  " 

Fourth  Miss.  —  "Don't  you  think  Blanche  is  a  pretty 
name  ? " 

First  Miss. — "  La  !  do  you  think  so,  dear  ?  Why  it's  my 
second  name  !  " 

Second  Miss. — "  Then  I'm  sure  Captain  Travers  thinks  it  a 
beautiful  name  !  " 

Third  Miss.—''  He,  he,  he  !  " 

Fourth  Miss. — "  What  was  he  telling  you  at  dinner  that 
seemed  to  interest  you  so  ?  " 

First  Miss. — "  O  law,  nothing  ! — that  is,  yes  !  Charles — 
that  is, — Captain  Travers,  is  a  sweet  poet,  and  was  reciting  to 
me  some  lines  that  he  had  composed  upon  a  faded  violet : 

"  '  The  odor  from  the  flower  is  gone, 
That  like  thy ' 

like  thy  something,  I  forget  what  it  was  ;  but  his  lines  are 
sweet,  r.nd  so  original  too  !  I  wish  that  horrid  Sir  John  Tod- 
caster  had  not  begun  his  story  of  the  exciseman.  For  Lady 
Fitz-Boodle  always  quits  the  table  when  he  begins." 

Third  Miss. — "  Uo  you  like  those  tufts  that  gentlemen 
wear  sometimes  on  their  chins  .''  " 

Second  Aliss. — "  Nonsense,  Mary  !  " 

Third  Miss. — "Well,  I  only  asked,  Jane.  Frank  thinks, 
you  know,  that  he  shall  very  soon  have  one,  and  puts  bear's- 
grease  on  his  chin  every  night." 

Second  Miss. — "  Mary,  nonsense  !  " 

Third  Miss. — "  Well,  only  ask  him.  You  know  he  came  to 
our  dressing-room  last  night  and  took  the  pomatum  away ;  and 
he  says  that  when  boys  go  to  Oxford  they  always " 

First  Miss. — "  O  heavens  !  have  you  heard  the  news  about 
the  Lancers  ?     Charles — that  is,  Captain  Travers,  told  it  me  !  " 

Second  Miss. — "  Law  !  they  won't  go  away  before  the  ball, 
I  hope !  " 

First  Miss. — "  No,  but  on  the  15th  they  are  to  shave  their 
mustaches  !  He  says  that  Lord  Tufto  is  in  a  perfect  fury 
about  it !  " 

Second  Miss. — "  And  poor  George  Beardmore,  too  !  "  &c. 

Here  Tom  upsets  the  coffee  over  his  trousers,  and  the  con- 
versations end.  I  can  recollect  a  dozen  such,  and  ask  any 
man  of  sense  whether  such  talk  amuses  him  ? 

Try  again  to  speak  to  a  young  lady  while  you  are  dancing 
- — what  we  call  in  this  country — a  quadrille.  What  nonsense 
do  you  invariably  give  and  receive  in   return  !     No,  I  am  a 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS. 


549 


woman-scorner,  and  don't  care  to  own  it.  I  hate  young  ladies  ! 
Have  I  not  been  in  love  with  several,  and  has  any  one  of  them 
ever  treated  me  decently?  I  hate  married  women  !  Do  they 
not  hate  me  ?  and,  simioly  because  I  smoke,  try  to  draw  their 
husbands  away  from  my  society?  I  hate  dowagers  !  Have  I 
not  cause  ?  Does  not  every  dowager  in  London  point  to  George 
Fitz-Boodle  as  to  a  dissolute  wretch  whom  young  and  old  should 
avoid  ? 

And  yet  do  not  imagine  that  I  have  not  loved.  I  have,  and 
madly,  many,  many  times  !  I  am  but  eight-and-thirty,*  not 
past  the  age  of  passion,  and  may  very  likely  end  by  running  oflE 
with  an  heiress — or  a  cook-maid  (for  who  knows  what  strange 
freaks  Love  may  choose  to  play  in  his  own  particular  person  ? 
and  I  hold  a  man  to  be  a  mean  creature  who  calculates  about 
checking  any  such  sacred  impulse  as  lawful  love) — I  say,  though 
despising  the  sex  in  general  for  their  conduct  to  me,  I  know  of 
particular  persons  belonging  to  it  who  are  worthy  of  all  respect 
and  esteem,  and  as  such  I  beg  leave  to  point  out  the  particular 
young  lady  who  is  perusing  these  lines.  Do  not,  dear  madam, 
then  imagine  that  if  I  knew  you  I  should  be  disposed  to  sneer 
at  you.  Ah,  no  !  Fitz-Boodle's  bosom  has  tenderer  sentiments 
than  from  his  way  of  life  you  would  fancy,  and  stern  by  rule  is 
only  too  soft  by  practice.  Shall  I  whisper  to  you  the  story  of 
one  or  two  of  my  attachments  ?  All  terminating  fatally  (not 
in  death,  but  in  disappointment,  which,  as  it  occurred,  I  used 
to  imagine  a  thousand  times  more  bitter  than  death,  but  from 
which  one  recovers  somehow  more  readily  than  from  the  other- 
named  complaint) — all,  I  say,  terminating  wretchedly  to  myself, 
as  if  some  fatality  pursued  my  desire  to  become  a  domestic 
character. 

My  first  love — no,  let  us  pass  that  over.  Sweet  one  !  thy 
name  shall  profane  no  hireling  page.  Sweet,  sweet  memory  ! 
Ah,  ladies,  those  delicate  hearts  of  yours  have,  too,  felt  the 
throb.  And  between  the  last  oh  in  the  word  throb  and  the  words 
now  written,  I  have  passed  a  delicious  period  of  perhaps  an 
hour,  perhaps  a  minute,  I  know  not  how  long,  thinking  of  that 
holy  first  love  and  of  her  who  inspired  it.  How  clearly  every 
single  incident  of  the  passion  is  remembered  by  me  !  and  yet 
'twas  long,  long  since.  I  was  but  a  child  then — a  child  at 
school — and,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  L — ra  R-ggl-s  (I  would 
not  write  her  whole  name  to  be  made  one  of  the  Marquess  of 
Hertford's  executors)  was  a  woman  full  thirteen  years  older 
than  myself;  at  the  period  of  which  I  write  she  must  have  been 

*  He  is  five-and-forly,  if  he  is  a  day  old. — O.  Y. 


55° 


THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 


at  least  five-and-twenty.  She  and  her  mother  used  to  sell  tarts, 
hard-bake,  lollipops,  and  other  such  simple  comestibles,  on 
Wednesdays  and  Saturdays  (half-holidays),  at  a  private  school 
where  I  received  the  first  rudiments  of  a  classical  education. 
I  used  to  go  and  sit  before  her  tray  for  hours,  but  I  do  not 
think  the  poor  girl  ever  supposed  any  motive  led  me  so  con- 
stantly to  her  little  stall  beyond  a  vulgar  longing  for  her  tarts 
and  her  ginger-beer.  Yes,  even  at  that  early  period  my  actions 
were  misrepresented,  and  the  fatality  M'hich  has  oppressed  my 
whole  life  began  to  show  itself, — the  purest  passion  was  misin- 
terpreted by  her  and  my  school-fellows,  and  they  thought  I  was 
actuated  by  simple  gluttony.  They  nicknamed  me  Alicom- 
payne. 

Well,  be  it  so.  Laugh  at  early  passion  ye  who  will ;  a  high- 
born boy  madly  in  love  with  a  lowly  ginger-beer  girl !  She 
married  afterwards,  took  the  name  of  Latter,  and  now  keeps 
with  her  old  husband  a  turnpike,  through  which  I  often  ride  ; 
but  I  can  recollect  her  bright  and  rosy  of  a  sunny  summer  after- 
noon, her  red  cheeks  shaded  by  a  battered  straw  bonnet,  her 
tarts  and  ginger-beer  upon  a  neat  white  cloth  before  her,  mend- 
ing blue  worsted  stockings  until  the  young  gentlemen  should 
interrupt  her  by  coming  to  buy. 

Many  persons  will  call  this  description  low  ;  I  do  not  envy 
them  their  gentility,  and  have  always  observed  through  life  (as, 
to  be  sure,  every  other  genileman  has  observed  as  well  as  my- 
self) that  it  is  your ^arremi  who  stickles  most  for  what  he  calls 
the  genteel,  and  has  the  most  squeamish  abhorrence  for  what 
is  frank  and  natural.  Let  us  pass  at  once,  however,  as  all  the 
world  must  be  pleased,  to  a  recital  of  an  affair  which  occurred 
in  the  very  best  circles  of  society,  as  they  are  called,  viz  :  my 
next  unfortunate  attachment. 

It  did  not  occur  for  several  years  after  that  simple  and  pla- 
tonic  passion  just  described  :  for  though  they  may  talk  of  youth 
as  the  season  of  romance,  it  has  always  appeared  to  me  that 
there  are  no  beings  in  the  world  so  entirely  unromantic  and  self- 
ish as  certain  young  English  gentlemen  from  the  age  of  fifteen 
to  twenty.  The  oldest  Lovelace  about  town  is  scarcely  more 
hard-hearted  and  scornful  than  they  ;  they  ape  all  sorts  of  self- 
ishness and  rouerie :  they  aim  at  excelling  at  cricket,  at  billiards, 
at  rowing,  at  drinking,  and  set  more  store  by  a  red  coat  and  a 
neat  pair  of  top-boots  than  by  any  other  glory.  A  young  fellow 
staggers  into  college-chapel  of  a  morning,  and  communicates  to 
all  his  friends  that  he  was  '■'■  so  cut  last  night,"  with  the  greatest 
possible  pride.     He  makes  a  joke  of  having  sisters  and  a  kiu^ 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  ^r  I 

mother  al  Iionic  who  loves  him  ;  and  if  he  speaks  of  his  father, 
it  is  with  a  knowing  sneer  to  say  that  he  has  a  tailor's  and  a 
horse-dealer's  bill  that  will  surprise  "the  old  governor."  He 
v.'ould  be  ashamed  of  being  in  love.  I,  in  common  with  my 
kind,  had  these  affectations,  and  my  perpetual  custom  of  smok- 
ing added  not  a  little  to  my  reputation  as  an  accomplished  7'oue- 
What  came  of  this  custom  in  the  army  and  at  college,  the  reader 
has  already  heard.  Alas  !  in  life  it  went  no  better  with  me, 
and  many  i:)retty  chances  I  had  went  off  in  that  accursed  smoke. 

After  quitting  the  army  in  the  abrupt  manner  stated,  I 
passed  some  short  time  at  home,  and  was  tolerated  by  my 
mother-in-law,  because  I  had  formed  an  attachment  to  a  young 
lady  of  good  connections  and  with  a  considerable  fortune,  which 
was  really  very  nearly  becoming  mine.  Mary  M'Alister  was 
the  only  daughter  of  Colonel  M'Alister,  late  of  the  Blues,  and 
Lady  Susan  his  wife.  Her  ladyship  was  no  more ;  and,  indeed, 
of  no  family  compared  to  ours  (which  has  refused  a  peerage 
any  time  these  two  hundred  years)  ;  but  being  an  earl's  daughter 
and  a  Scotchwoman,  Lady  Emily  Fitz-Boodle  did  not  fail  to 
consider  her  highly.  Lady  Susan  was  daughter  of  the  late  Ad- 
miral Earl  of  Marlingspike  and  Baron  Plumduff.  The  Colonel, 
Miss  M'Alister's  father,  had  a  good  estate,  of  which  his  daughter 
was  the  heiress,  and  as  I  fished  her  out  of  the  water  upon  a 
pleasure-jDarty,  and  swam  with  her  to  shore,  we  became  natu- 
ally  intimate,  and  Colonel  M'Alister  forgot,  on  account  of  the 
service  rendered  to  him,  the  dreadful  reputation  for  profligacy 
which  I  enjoyed  in  the  county. 

Well,  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  which  is  told  here  merely 
for  the  moral  at  the  end  of  it,  I  should  have  been  Fitz-Boodle 
?,I'Alister  at  this  minute  most  probably,  and  master  of  four 
iliousand  a  year,  but  for  the  fatal  cigar-box.  I  bear  Mary  no 
malice  in  saying  that  she  was  a  high-spirited  little  girl,  loving, 
before  all  things,  her  own  way  ;  nay,  perhaps  I  do  not,  from 
long  habit  and  indulgence  in  tobacco-smoking,  appreciate  the 
delicacy  of  female  organizations,  which  were  oftentimes  most 
painfully  affected  by  it.  She  was  a  keen-sighted  little  person, 
and  soon  found  that  the  world  had  belied  poor  George  Fitz- 
Boodle  ;  who,  instead  of  being  the  cunning  monster  petiple  sup- 
posed him  to  be,  was  a  simple,  reckless,  good-humored,  honest 
fellow,  marvellously  addicted  to  smoking,  idleness,  and  telling 
the  truth.  She  called  me  Orson,  and  I  was  happy  enough  on 
the  14th  February,  in  the  year  18 — (it's  of  no  consequence),  to 
send  her  such  a  pretty  little  copy  of  verses  about  Orson  and 
Valentine,  in  which   the  rude  habits  of  the  savacfe   man  were 


-Hj  THE  FTTZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

shown  to  be  overcome  by  the  polished  graces  of  his  kind  and 
brilliant  conqueror,  that  she  was  fairly  overcome,  and  said  to 
me,  "  George  Fitz-Boodle,  if  you  give  up  smoking  for  a  year  I 
will  marry  you." 

I  swore  I  would,  of  course,  and  went  home  and  flung  four 
pounds  of  Hudson's  cigars,  two  meerschaum  pipes  that  had 
cost  me  ten  guineas  at  the  establishment  of  Mr.  Gattie  at  Ox- 
ford, a  tobacco-bag  that  Lady  Fitz-Boodle  had  given  me  before 
her  marriage  with  my  father  (it  was  the  only  present  that  I  ever 
had  from  her  or  any  member  of  the  Flintskinner  family),  and 
some  choice  packets  of  Varinas  and  Syrian,  into  the  lake  in 
Boodle  Park.  The  weapon  amongst  them  all  which  I  most  re- 
gretted was — will  it  be  believed  ? — the  little  black  doodheen 
which  had  been  the  cause  of  the  quarrel  between  Lord  Martin- 
gale and  me.  However,  it  went  along  with  the  others.  I 
would  not  allow  my  groom  to  have  so  much  as  a  cigar,  lest  I 
should  be  tempted  hereafter  ;  and  the  consequence  was  that  a 
few  days  after  many  fat  carps  and  tenches  in  the  lake  (I  must 
confess  'twas  no  bigger  than  a  pond)  nibbled  at  the  tobacco, 
and  came  floating  on  their  backs  on  the  top  of  the  water  quite 
intoxicated.  My  conversion  made  some  noise  in  the  county, 
being  emphasized  as  it  were  by  this  fact  of  the  fish.  I  can't 
tell  you  with  what  pangs  I  kept  my  resolution ;  but  keep  it  I 
did  for  some  time. 

With  so  much  beauty  and  wealth,  Mary  M'Alister  had  of 
course  many  suitors,  and  among  them  was  the  young  Lord 
Dawdley,  whose  mamma  has  previously  been  described  in  her 
gown  of  red  satin.  As  I  used  to  thrash  Dawdley  at  school,  I 
thrashed  him  in  after-life  in  love  ;  he  put  up  with  his  disappoint- 
ment pretty  well,  and  came  after  a  while  and  shook  hands  with 
me,  telling  me  of  the  bets  that  there  were  in  the  county,  where 
the  whole  story  was  known,  for  and  against  me.  For  the  fact 
is,  as  I  must  own,  that  Mary  M'Alister,  the  queerest,  frankest 
of  women,  made  no  secret  of  the  agreement,  or  the  cause  of  it, 

"  I  did  not  care  a  penny  for  Orson,"  she  said,  "  but  he 
would  go  on  writing  me  such  dear  pretty  verses  that  at  last  I 
couldn't  help  saying  yes.  But  if  he  breaks  his  promise  to  me, 
I  declare,  upon  my  honor,  I'll  break  mine,  and  nobody's  heart 
will  be  broken  either." 

This  was  the  perfect  fact,  as  I  must  confess,  and  I  declare 
that  it  was  only  because  she  amused  me  and  delighted  me,  and 
provoked  me,  and  made  me  laugh  very  much,  and  because,  no 
doubt,  she  was  very  rich,  that  I  had  any  attachment  for  her. 

"  For  heaven's   sake,  George,"  my  father  said  to  me,  as  I 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  553 

quitted  home  to  follow  my  beloved  to  London,  "  remember  that 
you  are  a  younger  brother  and  have  a  lovely  girl  and  four 
thousand  a  year  within  a  year's  reach  of  you.  Smoke  as  much 
as  you  like,  my  boy,  after  marriage,"  added  the  old  gentleman, 
knowingly  (as  if  he,  honest  soul,  after  his  second  marriage, 
dared  drink  an  extra  pint  of  wine  without  my  lady's  permis- 
sion !)  "  but  eschew  the  tobacco-shops  till  then." 

I  went  to  London  resolving  to  act  upon  the  paternal  advice, 
and  oh  !  how  I  longed  for  the  day  when  I  should  be  married, 
vowing  in  my  secret  soul  that  I  would  light  a  cigar  as  I  walked 
out  of  St.  George's,  Hanover  Square. 

Well,  I  came  to  London,  and  so  carefully  avoided  smoking 
that  I  would  not  even  go  into  Hudson's  shop  to  pay  his  bill, 
and  as  smoking  was  not  the  fashion  then  among  young  men  as 
(thank  heaven  !)  it  is  now,  I  had  not  many  temptations  from  my 
friends' examples  in  my  clubs  or  elsewhere;  only  little  Dawdley 
began  to  smoke,  as  if  to  spite  me.  He  had  never  done  so 
before,  but  confessed — the  rascal ! — that  he  enjoyed  a  cigar 
now,  if  it  were  but  to  mortify  me.  But  I  took  to  other  and  more 
dangerous  excitements,  and  upon  the  nights  when  not  in  attend- 
ance upon  Mary  M'Alister,  might  be  found  in  very  dangerous 
proximity  to  a  polished  mahogany  table,  round  which  claret 
bottles  circulated  a  great  deal  too  often,  or  worse  still,  to  a 
table  covered  with  green  cloth  and  ornamented  with  a  couple 
of  wax-candles  and  a  couple  of  packs  of  cards,  and  four  gentle- 
men playing  the  enticing  game  of  whist.  Likewise,  I  came  to 
carry  a  snuff-box,  and  to  consume  in  secret  huge  quantities  of 
rappee. 

For  ladies'  society  I  was  even  then  disinclined,  hating  and 
despising  small  talk,  and  dancing,  and  hot  routs,  and  vulgar 
scrambles  for  suppers.  I  never  could  understand  the  pleasure 
of  acting  the  part  of  la,ckey  to  a  dowager,  and  standing  behind 
her  chair,  or  bustling  through  the  crowd  for  her  carriage.  I 
always  found  an  opera  too  long  by  two  acts,  and  have  repeatedly 
fallen  asleep  in  the  presence  of  Mary  M'Alister  herself,  sitting 
at  the  back  of  the  box  shaded  by  the  huge  beret  of  her  old 
aunt.  Lady  Betty  Plumduff  ;  and  many  a  time  has  Dawdley, 
with  Miss  M'Alister  on  his  arm,  wakened  me  up  at  the  close  o\ 
the  entertainment  in  time  to  offer  my  hand  to  Lady  Betty  and 
lead  the  ladies  to  their  carriage.  If  I  attended  her  occasionally 
to  any  ball  or  party  of  pleasure,  I  went,  it  must  be  confessed, 
with  clumsy,  ill- disguised  ill-humor.  Good  heavens  I  have  I 
often  and  often  thought  in  the  midst  of  a  song,  or  the  very  thick 
of  a  ball-room,  can  people  prefer  this  to  a  book  and  a  sofa,  and 


554 


THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 


a  clear,  clear  cigar-box,  from  thy  stores,  O  charming  Mariana 
Wooclville  !  Deprived  of  my  favorite  plant,  I  grew  sick  in 
mind  and  body,  moody,  sarcastic,  and  discontented. 

Such"  a  state  of  things  could  not  long  continue,  nor  could 
Miss  M'Alister  continue  to  have  much  attachment  for  such  a 
sullen,  ill-conditioned  creature  as  I  then  was.  She  used  to 
make  me  wild  with  her  wit  and  her  sarcasm,  nor  have  I  ever 
possessed  the  readiness  to  parry  or  reply  to  those  fine  points  of 
woman's  wit,  and  she  treated  me  the  more  mercilessly  as  she 
saw  that  I  could  not  resist  her. 

Well,  the  polite  reader  must  remember  a  great  fete  that  was 
given  at  B House,  some  years  back,  in  honor  of  his  High- 
ness the  Hereditary  Prince  of  Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel,  who 
was  then  in  London  on  a  visit  to  his  illustrious  relatives.  It 
was  a  fancy  ball,  and  the  poems  of  Scott  being  at  that  time  all 
the  fashion,  Mary  was  to  appear  in  the  character  of  the  "  Lady 
of  the  Lake,"  old  M'Alister  making  a  very  tall  and  severe- 
looking  harper;  Dawdley,  a  most  insignificant  Fitzjames  ;  and 
your  humble  servant  a  stalwart  manly   Roderick   Dhu.     We 

were  to  meet  at  B House  at  twelve  o'clock,  and   as   I  had 

no  fancy  to  drive  through  the  town  in  my  cab  dressed  in  a  kilt 
and  philibeg,  I  agreed  to  take  a  seat  in  Dawdley's  carriage,  and 
to  dress  at  his  house  in  May  Fair.  At  eleven  I  left  a  very 
pleasant  bachelor's  party,  growling  to  quit  them  and  the  honest, 
jovial  claret-bottle,  in  order  to  scrape  and  cut  capers  like  a 
harlequin  from  the  theatre.  When  I  arrived  at  Dawdley's,  I 
mounted  to  a  dressing-room,  and  began  to  array  myself  in  my 
cursed  costume. 

The  art  of  costuming  was  by  no  means  so  well  understood 
in  those  days  as  it  has  been  since,  and  mine  was  out  of  all  cor- 
rectness. I  was  made  to  sport  an  enormous  plume  of  black 
ostrich-feathers,  such  as  never  was  worn  by  any  Highland  chief, 
and  had  a  huge  tiger-skin  sporran  to  dangle  like  an  apron  be- 
fore innumerable  yards  of  plaid  petticoat.  The  tartan  cloak 
was  outrageously  hot  and  voluminous  ;  it  was  the  dog-days,  and 
all  these  things  I  was  condemned  to  wear  in  the  midst  of  a 
thousand  people  ! 

Dawdley  sent  up  word,  as  I  was  dressing,  that  his  dress  had 
not  arrived,  and  he  took  my  cab  and  drove  off  in  a  rage  to  his 
tailor. 

There  was  no  hurry,  I  thought,  to  make  a  fool  of  myself ;  so 
having  put  on  a  pair  of  plaid  trews,  and  very  neat  pumps  with 
shoe-buckles,  my  courage  failed  me  as  to  the  rest  of  the  dress, 
and  taking  down  one  of  his  dressing-gowns,  I  went  down  stairs 
to  the  study,  to  vyait  until  he  should  arrive. 


FTTZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS. 


555 


The  windows  of  the  pretty  room  were  open,  and  a  snug 
sofa,  with  innumerable  cushions,  drawn  towards  one  of  them.  A 
great  tranquil  moon  was  staring  into  the  chamWer,  in  which 
stood,  amidst  books  and  all  sorts  of  bachelor's  lumber,  a  silver 
tray  with  a  couple  of  tall  Venice  glasses,  and  a  bottle  of  Ma- 
raschino bound  with  straw.  I  can  see  now  the  twinkle  of  the 
liquor  in  the  moonshine,  as  I  poured  it  into  the  glass  ;  and  I  swal- 
lowed two  or  three  little  cups  of  it,  for  my  spirits  were  downcast. 
Close  to  the  tray  of  Maraschino  stood — must  I  say  it  ? — a  box, 
a  mere  box  of  cedar,  bound  rudely  together  with  pink  paper, 
branded  with  the  name  of  "  Hudson  "  on  the  side,  and  bearing 
on  the  cover  the  arms  of  Spain.  I  thought  I  would  just  take 
up  the  box  and  look  in  it. 

Ah  heaven  !  there  they  were — a  hundred  and  fifty  of  them, 

in  calm,  comfortable  rows  :  lovingly  side  by  side  they  lay,  with 

the  great  moon  shining  down  upon  them — thin  at  the  tip,  full 

at  the  waist,  elegantly  round  and  full,  a  little  spot  here  and 

there    shining   upon  them — beauty  spots  upon  the   cheek  of 

Sylvia.     The  house  was  quite  quiet.     Dawdley  always  smoked 

in  his  room  ; — I  had  not  smoked  for  four  months   and  eleven 

days. 

*  *  *  *  # 

When  Lord  Dawdley  came  into  the  study,  he  did  not  make 
any  remarks  \  and  oh,  how  easy  my  heart  felt  !  He  was  dressed 
in  his  green  boots,  after  Westall's  picture,  correctly. 

"  It's  time  to  be  off,  George,"  said  he  ;  "  they  told  me  you 
were  dressed  long  ago.     Come  up,  my  man,  and  get  ready." 

I  rushed  up  into  the  dressing-room,  and  madly  dashed  my 
head  and  arms  into  a  pool  of  eau-de-Cologne.  I  drank,  I  be- 
lieve, a  tumblerful  of  it.  I  called  for  my  clothes,  and,  strange 
to  say,  they  were  gone.  My  servant  brought  them  to  me,  how- 
ever, saying  that  he  had  put  them  away — making  some  stupid 
excuse.     I  put  them  on,  not  heeding  them  much,  for  I  was  half 

tipsy  with  the  excitement  of  the  ci of  the  smo —  of  what 

had  taken  place  in  Dawdley's  study,  and  with  the  Maraschino 
and  eau-de-Cologne  I  had  drunk. 

"  What  a  fine  odor  of  lavender-water  !  "  said  Dawdley,  as 
we  rode  in  the  carriage. 

I  put  my  head  out  of  the  window  and  shrieked  out  a  laugh  j 
but  made  no  other  reply. 

"  What's  the  joke,  George  ?  "  said  Dawdley.  "  Did  I  say 
anything  witty .-'  " 

"  No,"  cried  I,  yelling  still  more  wildly ;  "  nothing  more 
witty  than  usual."  36 


556  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

"  Don't  be  severe,  George,"  said  he,  with  a  mortified  air: 
and  we  drove  on  to  B House. 

*  ..  *  *  *  * 

There  must  have  been  something  strange  and  wild  in  my 
appearance,  and  those  awful  black  plumes, as  I  passed  through 
the  crowd  ;  for  I  observed  people  looking  and  making  a  strange 
nasal  noise  (it  is  called  sniffing,  and  I  have  no  other  more 
delicate  term  for  it),  and  making  way  as  I  pushed  on.  But  I 
moved  forward  very  fiercely,  for  the  wine,  the  Maraschino,  the 
eau-de-Cologne,  and  the — the  excitement  had  rendered  me  al- 
most wild  ;  and  at  length  I  arrived  at  the  place  where  my  Lady 
of  the  Lake  and  her  Harper  stood.  How  beautiful  she  looked, 
— all  eyes  were  upon  her  as  she  stood  blushing.  When  she 
saw  me,  however,  her  countenance  assumed  the  appearance  of 
alarm.  "Good  heavens,  George !  "  she  said,  stretching  her 
hand  to  me,  "  what  makes  you  look  so  wild  and  pale  ?  "  I  ad- 
vanced, and  was  going  to  take  her  hand,  when  she  dropped  it 
with  a  scream. 

"  Ah — ah — ah  !  "  she  said.  "  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle,  you've  been 
smoking ! " 

There  was  an  immense  laugh  from  four  hundred  people 
round  about  us,  and  the  scoundrelly  Dawdley  joined  in  the 
yell.  I  rushed  furiously  out,  and,  as  I  passed,  hurtled  over  the 
fat  Hereditary  Prince  of  Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel. 

"  Es  riecht  hier  ungeheuer  stark  von  Tabak  ! "  I  heard  his 
Highness  say,  as  I  madly  flung  myself  through  the  aides-de- 
camp. 

The  next  day  Mary  M'Alister,  in  a  note  full  of  the  most 
odious  good  sense  and  sarcasm,  reminded  me  of  our  agree- 
ment ;  said  that  she  was  quite  convinced  that  we  were  not  by 
any  means  fitted  for  one  another,  and  begged  me  to  consider 
myself  henceforth  quite  free.  The  little  wretch  had  the  imper- 
tinence to  send  me  a  dozen  boxes  of  cigars,  which,  she  said, 
would  console  me  for  my  lost  love  ;  as  she  was  perfectly  cer- 
tain that  I  was  not  mercenary,  and  that  I  loved  tobacco  better 
than  any  woman  in  the  world. 

I  believe  she  was  right,  though  I  have  never  to  this  day 
been  able  to  pardon  the  scoundrelly  stratagem  by  which  Dawd- 
ley robbed  me  of  a  wife  and  won  one  himself.  As  I  was  lying 
on  his  sofa,  looking  at  the  moon  and  lost  in  a  thousand  happy 
contemplations,  Lord  Dawdley,  returning  from  the  tailor's,  saw 
me  smoking  at  my  leisure.  On  entering  his  dressing-room,  a 
horrible  treacherous  thought  struck  him.  "  I  must  not  betray 
my  friend,"  said  he  ;  "  but  in  love  all  is  fair,  and  he  shall  be- 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  557 

tray  himself."  There  were  my  tartans,  my  cursed  featl>ers,  my 
tiger-skin  sporran,  upon  the  sofa. 

He  called  up  my  groom  ;  he  made  the  rascal  put  on  all  my 
clothes,  and,  giving  him  a  guinea  and  four  cigars,  bade  him 
lock  himself  into  the  little  pantry  and  smoke  them  witJwiit 
taking  the  clothes  off.  John  did  so,  and  was  very  ill  in  conse- 
quence, and  so  when  I  came  to  B House,  my  clothes  were 

redolent  of  tobacco,  and.  I  lost  lovely  Mary  M'Alister. 

I  am  godfather  to  one  of  Lady  Dawdley's  boys,  and  hers  is 
the  only  house  where  I  am  allowed  to  smoke  unmolested  ;  but 
I  have  never  been  able  to  admire  Dawdley,  a  sly,  sournois,  spirit- 
less, lily-livered  fellow,  that  took  his  name  ofiE  all  his  clubs  the 
year  he  married. 


DOROTHEA. 

Beyond  sparring  and  cricket,  I  do  not  recollect  I  learned 
anything  useful  at  Slaughter-House  School,  where  I  was  edu- 
cated (according  to  an  old  family  tradition,  which  sends  par- 
ticular generations  of  gentlemen  to  particular  schools  in  the 
kingdom  ;  and  such  is  the  force  of  habit,  that  though  I 
hate  the  place,  I  shall  send  my  own  son  thither  too,  should  I 
marry  any  day).  I  say  I  learned  little  that  was  useful  at 
Slaughter-House,  and  nothing  that  was  ornamental.  I  would 
as  soon  have  thought  of  learning  to  dance  as  of  learning  to 
climb  chimneys.  Up  to  the  age  of  seventeen,  as  I  have  shown, 
I  had  a  great  contempt  for  the  female  race,  and  when  age 
brought  with  it  warmer  and  juster  sentiments,  where  was  I  ? — I 
could  no  more  dance  nor  prattle  to  a  young  girl  than  a  young 
bear  could.  Ihaveseen  the  ugliest  little  low-bred  wretches 
carrying  off  young  and  lovely  creatures,  twirling  with  them  in 
waltzes,  whispering  between  their  glossy  curls  in  quadrilles, 
simpering  with  perfect  equanimity,  and  cutting  pus  in  that 
abominable  "  cavalier  seul,"  until  my  soul  grew  sick  with  fury. 
In  a  word,  I  determined  to  learn  to  dance. 

But  such  things  are  hard  to  be  acquired  late  in  life,  when 
the  bones  and  habits  of  a  man  are  formed.  Look  at  a  man  in 
a  hunting-field  who  has  not  been  taught  to  ride  as  a  boy.  All 
the  pluck  and  courage  in  the  world  will  not  make  the  man  of 
him  that  I  am,  or  as  any  man  who  has  had  the  advantages  of 
early  education  in  the  field. 

In  the  same  way  with  dancing.  Though  I  went  to  work  with 
immense  energy,  both  in  Brewer  Street,  Golden  Square  (with 
an  advertising  fellow),  and  afterwards  with  old  Coulon  at  Paris, 
I  never  was  able  to  be  easy  in  dancing  ;  and  though  little 
Coulon  instructed  me  in  a  smile,  it  was  a  cursed  forced  one, 
that  looked  like  the  grin  of  a  person  in  extreme  agony.  I 
once  caught  sight  of  it  in  a  glass,  and  have  hardly  ever  smiled 
since. 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSION'S.  559 

Most  young  men  about  London  have  gone  through  that 
strange  secret  ordeal  of  the  dancing-school.  I  am  given  to 
understand  that  young  snobs  from  attorneys'  offices,  banks, 
shops,  and  the  like,  make  not  the  least  mystery  of  their  pro- 
ceedings in  the  saltatory  line,  but  trip  gayly,  with  pumps  in 
band,  to  some  dancing-place  about  Soho,  waltz  and  quadrille  it 
with  Miss  Greengrocer  or  Miss  Butcher,  and  fancy  they  have 
had  rather  a  pleasant  evening.  There  is  one  house  in  Dover 
Street,  where,  behind  a  dirty  curtain,  such  figures  may  be  seen 
hopping  every  night,  to  a  perpetual  fiddling  ;  and  I  have  stood 
sometimes  wondering  in  the  street,  with  about  six  blackguard 
boys  wondering  too,  at  the  strange  contortions  of  the  figures 
jumi^ing  up  and  down  to  the  mysterious  squeaking  of  the  kit. 
Have  they  no  shame  ces gens  ?  are  such  degrading  initiations  to 
be  held  in  jDublic  ?  No,  the  snob  may,  but  the  man  of  refined 
mind  never  can  submit  to  show  himself  in  public  laboring  at 
the  apprenticeship  of  this  most  absurd  art.  It  is  owing,  per- 
haps, to  this  modesty,  and  the  fact  that  I  have  no  sisters  at 
home,  that  I  have  never  thoroughly  been  able  to  dance  ;  for 
though  I  always  arrive  at  the  end  of  a  quadrille  (and  thank 
heaven  for  it  too  !)  and  though,  1  believe,  I  make  no  mistake  in 
particular,  yet  I  solemnly  confess  I  have  never  been  able 
thoroughly  to  comprehend  the  mysteries  of  it,  or  what  I  have 
been  about  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  dance.  I 
always  look  at  the  lady  opposite,  and  do  as  she  does  :  if  she  did 
not  know  how  to  dance /ar  /lasard,  it  would  be  all  up.  But  if 
they  can't  do  anything  else,  women  can  dance  :  let  us  give  them 
that  praise  at  least. 

In  London,  then,  for  a  considerable  time,  I  used  to  get  up 
at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  pass  an  hour  alone  with 
Mr.  Wilkinson,  of  the  Theatres  Royal,  in  Golden  Square  ; — an 
hour  alone.  It  was  "  one,  two,  three  ;  one,  two,  three — now 
jump — right  foot  more  out,  Mr.  Smith  ;  and  if  you  eoidd  try  and 
look  a  little  more  cheerful  ;  your  partner,  sir,  would  like  you 
hall  the  better."  Wilkinson  called  me  Smith,  for  the  fact  is,  I 
did  not  tell  him  my  real  name,  nor  (thank  heaven  !)  does  he 
know  it  to  this  day. 

I  never  breathed  a  word  of  my  doings  to  any  soul  among 
my  friends  ;  once  a  pack  of  them  met  me  in  the  strange  neigh- 
borhood, when,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  I  muttered  something 
about  a  "  little  French  milliner,"  and  walked  off,  looking  as 
knowing  as  I  could. 

In  Paris,  two  Cambridge-men  and  myself,  who  happened  to 
be  staying  at  a  boarding-house  together,  agreed  to  go  to  Cou 


560  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

Ion,  a  little  creature  of  four  feet  high  with  a  pigtail.  His  room 
was  hung  round  with  glasses.  He  made  us  take  off  our  coats, 
and  dance  each  before  a  mirror.  Once  he  was  standing  before 
us  playing  on  his  kit— the  sight  of  the  little  master  and  the 
pupil  was  so  supremely  ridiculous,  that  I  burst  into  a  yell  of 
laughter,  which  so  offended  the  old  man  that  he  walked  away 
abruptly,  and  begged  me  not  to  repeat  my  visits.  Nor  did  I. 
I  was  just  getting  into  waltzing  then,  but  determined  to  drop 
Avaltzing,  and  content  myself  with  quadrilling  for  the  rest  of  my 
days. 

This  was  all  very  well  in  France  and  England  ;  but  in  Ger- 
many what  was  I  to  do  ?  What  did  Hercules  do  when  Om- 
phale  captivated  him  ?  What  did  Rinaldo  do  when  Armida 
fixed  upon  him  her  twinkling  eyes .''  Nay,  to  cut  all  historical 
instances  short,  by  going  at  once  to  the  earliest,  what  did  Adam 
do  when  Eve  tempted  him  ?  He  yielded  and  became  her  slave  ; 
and  so  I  do  heartily  trust  every  honest  man  Avill  yield  until  the 
end  of  the  world — he  has  no  heart  who  will  not.  Wlien  I  was 
in  Germany,  I  say,  I  began  to  learn  to  lualtz.  The  reader  from 
this  will  no  doubt  expect  that  some  new  love-adventures  befell 
me — nor  will  his  gentle  heart  be  disappointed.  Two  deep  and 
tremendous  incidents  occurred  which  shall  be  notified  on  the 
present  occasion. 

The  reader,  perhaps,  remembers  the  brief  appearance  of  his 

Highness   the   Duke  of  Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel   at   B 

House,  in  the  first  part  of  my  Memoirs,  at  that  unlucky  period 
of  my  life  when  the  Duke  was  led  to  remark  the  odor  about 
my  clothes,  which  lost  me  the  hand  of  Mary  M'Alister.  I  some- 
how found  myself  in  his  Highness's  territories,  of  which  anybody 
may  read  a  description  in  the  Almanack  dc  Golha.  His  High- 
ness's father,  as  is  well  known,  married  Emelia  Kunegunda 
Thomasina  Charleria  Emanuela  Louisa  Georgina,  Princess  of 
Saxe-Pumpernickel,  and  a  cousin  of  his  Plighness  the  Duke. 
Thus  the  two  principalities  were  united  under  one  happy  sov- 
ereign in  the  person  of  Philibert  Sigismund  Emanuel  Maria, 
the  reigning  Duke,  who  has  received  from  his  country  (on 
account  of  the  celebrated  pump  which  he  erected  in  the  market- 
place of  Kalbsbraten)  the  well-merited  appellation  of  the  Mag- 
nificent. The  allegory  which  the  statues  round  about  the  pump 
represent,  is  of  a  very  mysterious  and  complicated  sort.  Mi- 
nerva is  observed  leading  up  Ceres  to  a  river-god,  who  has  his 
^tr-ns  roiMid  the  neck  of  Pomona  ;  while  Mars  (in  a  full-bot- 
tomed wig)  is  driven  away  by  Peace,  under  whose  mantle  two 
lo^■ely  cliiklren,  representing  the  Duke's  two  provinces,  repose. 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  ggj 

The  celebrated  Speck  is,  as  need  scarcely  be  said,  the  author 
of  this  piece  ;  and  of  other  magnificent  edifices  in  the  Residenz, 
such  as  the  guard-room,  the  skittle-hall  {Grossherzoglich  Kalhs' 
braten  piimpcrnickdisch  Schkittelspielsaal)^  &c.,  and  the  superb 
sentry-boxes  before  the  Grand-Ducal  Palace.  He  is  Knight 
Grand  Cross  of  the  Ancient  Kartoffel  Order,  as,  indeed,  is 
almost  every  one  else  in  his  Highness's  dominions. 

The  town  of  Kalbsbraten  contains  a  population  of  two 
thousand  inhabitants,  and  a  palace  which  would  accommodate 
about  six  times  that  number.  The  principality  sends  three  and 
a  half  men  to  the  German  Confederation,  who  are  commanded 
by  a  General  (Excellency),  two  Major-Generals,  and  sixty-four 
officers  of  lower  grades  ;  all  noble,  all  knights  of  the  Order,  and 
almost  all  chamberlains  to  his  Highness  the  Grand  Duke.  An 
excellent  band  of  eighty  performers  is  the  admiration  of  the 
surrounding  country,  and  leads  the  Grand-Ducal  troops  to 
battle  in  time  of  war.  Only  three  of  the  contingent  of  soldiers 
returned  from  the  Battle  of  Waterloo,  where  they  won  much 
honor ;  the  remainder  was  cut  to  pieces  on  that  glorious  day. 

There  is  a  chamber  of  representatives  (which,  however, 
nothing  can  induce  to  sit),  home  and  foreign  ministers,  residents 
from  neighboring  courts,  law  presidents,  town  councils,  &c., 
all  the  adjuncts  of  a  big  or  little  government.  The  court  has 
its  chamberlains  and  marshals,  the  Grand  Duchess  her  noble 
ladies  in  waiting,  and  blushing  maids  of  honor.  Thou  wert 
one,  Dorothea !  Dost  remember  the  poor  young  Englander  ? 
We  parted  in  anger ;  but  I  think — I  think  thou  hast  not  for- 
gotten him. 

The  way  in  which  I  have  Dorothea  von  Speck  present  to 
my  mind  is  this  ;  not  as  I  first  saw  her  in  the  garden — for  her 
hair  was  in  bandeaux  then,  and  a  large  Leghorn  hat  with  a 
deep  ribbon  covered  half  her  fair  face, — not  in  a  morning-dress, 
which,  by  the  way,  was  none  of  the  newest  nor  the  best  made 
— but  as  I  saw  her  afterwards  at  a  ball  at  the  pleasant  splendid 
little  court,  where  she  moved  the  most  beautiful  of  the  beauties 
of  Kalbsbraten.  The  grand  saloon  of  the  palace  is  lighted — 
the  Grand  Duke  and  his  officers,  the  Duchess  and  her  ladies, 
have  passed  through.  I,  in  my  uniform  of  the  — th,  and  a 
number  of  young  fellows  (who  are  evidently  admiring  my  legs 
and  envying  my  distingue  appearance),  are  waiting  round  the 
entrance  door,  where  a  huge  Heyduke  is  standing,  and  announc- 
ing the  titles  of  the  guests  as  they  arrive. 

"  Herr  Oberhof-  und-  IUu-  inspektor  von  Speck  !  "  shouts 
the  Heyduke  j  and  the  little  Inspector  comes  in.     His  lady  is 


^62  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

on  his  arm — huge,  in  towering  plumes,  and  her  favorite  cos. 
tume  of  light-bkie.  Fair  women  always  dress  in  light-blue  oi 
light-green  ;  and  Frau  von  Speck  is  very  stout. 

But  who  comes  behind  her  ?  Lieber  Hinimel  ?  It  is  Doro- 
thea !  Did  earth,  among  all  the  flowers  which  have  sprung 
from  its  bosom,  produce  ever  one  more  beautiful  ?  She  was 
none  of  your  heavenly  beauties,  I  tell  you.  She  had  nothing 
ethereal  about  her.  No,  sir  ;  she  was  of  the  earth  earthy,  and 
must  have  weighed  ten  stone  four  or  five,  if  she  weighed  an 
ounce.  She  had  none  of  your  Chinese  feet,  nor  waspy,  un- 
healthy waists,  which  those  may  admire  who  will.  No  :  Dora's 
foot  was  a  good  stout  one  ;  you  could  see  her  ankle  (if  her  robe 
was  short  enough)  without  the  aid  of  a  microscope;  and  that 
envious  little,  sour,  skinny  Amalia  von  Mangelwtirzel  used  to 
hold  up  her  four  fingers  and  say  (the  two  girls  were  most  inti- 
mate friends,  of  course),  "  Dear  Dorothea's  vaist  is  so  much 
dicker  as  dis."     And  so  I  have  no  doubt  it  was. 

But   what   then  ?     Goethe   sings   in  one   of  his   divine  ep» 


"  Epicures  vaunting  their  taste,  entitle  me  vulgar  and  savage, 

Give  them  their  firussels-sprouts,  but  I  am  contented  with  cabbage." 

I  hate  your  little  women — that  is,  when  I  am  in  love  with  a 
tall  one  ;  and  who  would  not  have  loved  Dorothea .'' 

Fancy  her,  then,  if  you  please,  about  five  feet  four  inches 
high — fancy  her  in  the  family  color  of  light-blue,  a  little  scarf 
covering  the  most  brilliant  shoulders  in  the  world ;  and  a  pair 
of  gloves  clinging  close  round  an  arm  that  may,  perhaps,  be 
somewhat  too  large  now,  but  that  Juno  might  have  envied 
then.  After  the  fashion  of  young  ladies  on  the  continent,  sh*; 
wears  no  jewels  or  gimcracks  :  her  only  ornament  is  a  wreath 
of  vine-leaves  in  her  hair,  with  little  clusters  of  artificial  grapes. 
Down  on  her  shoulders  falls  the  brown  hair,  in  rich  liberal  clus- 
ters ;  all  that  health,  and  good-humor,  and  beauty  can  do  for 
her  face,  kind  nature  has  done  for  hers.  Her  eyes  are  frank, 
sparkling,  and  kind.  As  for  her  cheeks,  what  paint-box  or 
dictionary  contains  j^igments  or  words  to  describe  their  red  ? 
They  say  she  opens  her  mouth  and  smiles  always  to  show  the 
dimples  in  her  cheeks.  Psha  !  she  smiles  because  she  is  hap- 
py, and  kind,  and  good-humored,  and  not  because  her  teeth  are 
little  pearls. 

All  the  young  fellows  crowd  up  to  ask  her  to  dance,  and, 
taking  from  her  waist  a  little  mother-of-pearl  remembrancer, 
she  notes  them  down.     Old  Schnabel  for  the  polonaire  ;  Klin- 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  563 

genspohr,  first  waltz  ;  Haarbart,  second  waltz ;  Count  Horn* 
pieper  (the  Danish  envoy),  third  ;  and  so  on.  I  have  said 
why /could  not  ask  her  to  waltz,  and  I  turned  away  with  a 
pang,  and  played  ecarte'  with  Colonel  Trumpenpack  all  night. 

In  thus  introducing  this  lovely  creature  in  her  ball-costume, 
I  have  been  somewhat  premature,  and  had  best  go  back  to  the 
beginning  of  the  history  of  my  acquaintance  with  her. 

Dorothea,  then,  was  the  daughter  of  the  celebrated  Speck 
before  mentioned.  It  is  one  of  the  oldest  names  in  Germany, 
where  her  father's  and  mother's  houses,  those  of  Speck  and 
Eyer,  are  loved  wherever  they  are  known.  Unlike  his  warlike 
progenitor,  Lorenzo  von  Speck,  Dorothea's  father  had  early 
shown  himself  a  passionate  admirer  of  art ;  had  quitted  home 
to  study  architecture  in  Italy,  and  had  become  celebrated 
throughout  Europe,  and  been  appointed  Oberhofarchitect  and 
Kunst-  und-  Bau-inspektor  of  the  united  principalities.  They 
are  but  four  miles  wide,  and  his  genius  has  consequently  but 
little  room  to  play.  What  art  can  do,  however,  he  does.  The 
palace  is  frequently  whitewashed  under  his  eyes ;  the  theatre 
painted  occasionally ;  the  noble  public  buildings  erected,  of 
which  I  have  already  made  mention. 

I  had  come  to  Kalbsbraten,  scarce  knowing  whither  I  went ; 
and  having,  in  about  ten  minutes,  seen  the  curiosities  of  the 
place  (I  did  not  care  to  see  the  King's  palace,  for  chairs  and 
tables  have  no  great  charm  for  me),  I  had  ordered  horses  ;  and 
wanted  to  get  on  I  cared  not  whither,  when  Fate  threw  Doro- 
thea in  my  way.  I  was  yawning  back  to  the  hotel  through  the 
palace-garden,  a  valet-de-place  at  my  side,  when  I  saw  a  young 
lady  seated  under  a  tree  reading  a  novel,  her  mamma  on  the 
same  bench  (a  fat  woman  in  light-blue)  knitting  a  stocking,  and 
two  officers,  choked  in  their  stays,  with  various  orders  on  their 
spinach-colored  coats,  standing  by  in  first  attitudes  :  the  one 
was  caressing  the  fat-lady-in-blue's  little  dog ;  the  other  was 
twirling  his  own  mustache,  which  was  already  as  nearly  as  pos- 
sible curled  into  his  own  eye. 

I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  I  hate  to  see  men  evidently  inti- 
mate with  nice-looking  women,  and  on  good  terms  with  them- 
selves. There's  something  annoying  in  their  cursed  compla- 
cency— their  evident  sunshiny  happiness.  I've  no  woman  to 
make  sunshine  for  me ;  and  yet  my  heart  tells  me  that  not  one, 
but  several  such  suns,  would  do  good  to  my  system. 

"  Who  are  those  pert-looking  officers,"  says  I,  peevishly, 
to  the  guide,  "  who  are  talking  to  those  vulgar-looking  wo 
men  ?  " 


c64  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

"  The  big  one,  with  the  epaulets,  is  Major  von  Schnabel ; 
the  little  one,  with  the  pale  face,  is  Stiefel  von  Klingenspohr." 

"  And  the  big  blue  woman  ?  " 

"The  Grand-Ducal  Pumpernickelian-court-architectress  and 
Upper-Palace-and-building-inspectress  Von  Speck,  born  V. 
Eyer,"  replied  the  guide.  "  Your  well-born  honor  has  seen 
the  pump  in  the  market-place  ;  that  is  the  work  of  the  great 
Von  Speck." 

*'  And  yonder  young  person  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Court-architect's  daughter  ;  the  Friiulein  Dorothea." 
***** 

Dorothea  looked  up  from  her  novel  here,  and  turned  her 
face  towards  the  stranger  who  was  passing,  and  then  blushing 
turned  it  down  again.  Schnabel  looked  at  me  with  a  scowl, 
Klingenspohr  with  a  simper,  the  dog  with  a  yelp,  the  fat  lady  in 
blue  just  gave  one  glance,  and  seemed,  I  thought,  rather  well 
pleased.  *'  SilcuLC,  Lischen  !  "  said  she  to  the  dog.  "  Go  on, 
darling  Dorothea,"  she  added,  to  her  daughter,  who  continued 
her  novel. 

Her  voice  was  a  little  tremulous,  but  very  low  and  rich. 
For  some  reason  or  other,  on  getting  back  to  the  inn,  I  coun- 
termanded the  horses,  and  said  I  would  stay  for  the  nighi. 

I  not  only  stayed  that  night,  but  many,  many  afterwards  ; 
and  as  for  the  manner  in  which  I  became  acquainted  with  the 
Speck  family,  why  it  was  a  good  joke  against  me  at  the  time, 
and  I  did  not  like  then  to  have  it  known  ;  but  now  it  may  as 
well  come  out  at  once.  Speck,  as  everybody  knows,  lives  in 
the  market-place,  opposite  his  grand  work  of  art,  the  town 
pump,  or  fountain.  I  bought  a  large  sheet  of  paper,  and  hav- 
ing a  knack  at  drawing,  sat  down,  with  the  greatest  gravity, 
before  the  pump,  and  sketched  it  for  several  hours.  I  knew  it 
would  bring  out  old  Speck  to  see.  At  first  he  contented  him- 
self by  flattening  his  nose  against  the  window-glasses  of  his 
study,  and  looking  what  the  Englander  was  about.  Then  he 
put  on  his  gray  cap  with  the  huge  green  shade,  and  sauntered  to 
the  door  :  then  he  walked  round  me,  and  formed  one  of  a  band 
of  street-idlers  who  were  looking  on  :  then  at  last  he  could  re- 
strain himself  no  more,  but,  pulling  off  his  cap,  with  a  low  bow, 
began  to  discourse  upon  arts,  and  architecture  in  particular. 

"  It  is  curious,"  says  he,  "  that  you  have  taken  the  same 
view  of  which  a  print  has  been  engraved." 

"  That  is  extraordinary,"  says  I  (though  it  wasn't,  for  Ihad 
traced  my  drawing  at  a  window  off  the  very  print  in  question), 
I  added  that  I  was,  like  all  the  world,  immensely  struck  with 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  565 

the  beauty  of  the  edifice ;  heard  of  it  at  Rome,  where  it  was 
considered  to  be  superior  to  any  of  the  celebrated  fountains  of 
that  capital  of  the  fine  arts  ;  finally,  that  unless  perhaps  the 
celebrated  fountain  of  Aldgate  in  London  might  compare  with 
it,  Kalbsbraten  building,  except  in  that  case,  was  incomparable. 

This  speech  I  addressed  in  French,  of  which  the  worthy 
Hofarchitect  understood  somewhat,  and  continuing  to  reply  in 
German,  our  conversation  grew  pretty  close.  It  is  singular 
that  I  can  talk  to  a  man  and  pay  him  compliments  with  the 
utmost  gravity,  whereas,  to  a  woman,  I  at  once  lose  all  self- 
possession,  and  have  never  said  a  pretty  thing  in  my  life. 

My  operations  on  old  Sf>eck  were  so  conducted,  that  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  I  had  elicited  from  him  an  invitation  to  go 
over  the  town  with  him,  and  see  its  architectural  beauties.  So  we 
walked  through  the  Imge  half-furnished  chambers  of  the  palace, 
we  panted  up  the  copper  pinnacle  of  the  church-tower,  we  went 
to  see  the  Museum  and  Gymnasium,  and  coming  back  into  the 
market-place  again,  what  could  the  Hofarchitect  do  but  offer 
me  a  glass  of  wine  and  a  seat  in  his  iiouse  ?  He  introduced 
me  to  his  Gattinn,  his  Leocadia  (the  fat  woman  in  blue),  "as 
a  young  world-observer,  and  worthy  art-friend,  a  young  scion 
of  British  Adel,  who  had  come  to  refresh  himself  at  the  Urquel- 
len  of  his  race,  and  see  his  brethren  of  the  great  family  of  Her- 
mann." 

I  saw  instantly  that  the  old  fellow  was  of  a  romantic  turn, 
this  rodomontade  to  his  lady  :  nor  was  she  a  whit  less  so  ;  nor 
was  Dorothea  less  sentimental  than  her  mamma.  She  knew 
everything  regarding  the  literature  of  Albion,  as  she  was 
pleased  to  call  it ;  and  asked  me  news  of  all  the  famous  writers 
there.  I  told  her  that  Miss  Edgeworth  was  one  of  the  loveli- 
est young  beauties  at  our  court ;  I  described  to  her  Lad}'  Mor- 
gan, herself  as  beautiful  as  the  wild  Irish  girl  she  drew ;  I 
promised  to  give  her  a  signature  of  Mrs.  Hemans  (which  I 
wrote  for  her  that  ver^-  evening)  ;  and  described  a  fox-hunt,  at 
which  I  had  seen  Thomas  Moore  and  Samuel  Rogers,  Esquires; 
and  a  boxing-match,  in  which  the  athletic  author  of  "  Pelham  " 
was  pitched  against  the  hardy  mountain  bard,  Wordsworth. 
You  see  my  education  was  not  neglected,  for  though  I  have 
never  read  the  works  of  the  above-named  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
yet  I  knew  their  names  well  enough. 

Time  passed  away.  I,  perhaps,  was  never  so  brilliant  in 
conversation  as  when  excited  by  the  Asmanshauser  and  the 
brilliant  eyes  of  Dorothea  that  day.  She  and  her  parents  had 
dined  at  their  usual  heathen  hour;  but  I  was,  I  don't  care  to 


^66  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

own  it,  so  smitten,  that  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  did  not 
even  miss  the  meal,  and  talked  on  until  sLx:  o'clock,  when  tea 
was  served.  Madame  Speck  said  they  always  drank  it ;  and 
so  placing  a  teaspoonful  of  bohea  in  a  cauldron  of  water,  she 
placidly  handed  out  this  decoction,  which  we  took  with  cakes 
and  tartines-  I  leave  you  to  imagine  how  disgusted  Klingen- 
spohr  and  Schnabel  looked  when  they  stepped  in  as  usual  that 
evening  to  make  their  party  of  whist  with  the  Speck  family  ! 
Down  they  were  obliged  to  sit ;  and  the  lovely  Dorothea,  for 
that  nighty  declined  to  play  altogether,  and — sat  on  the  sofa 
by  me. 

What  we  talked  about,  who  shall  tell  ?  I  would  not,  for  my 
part,  break  the  secret  of  one  of  those  delicious  conversations, 
of  which  I  and  every  man  in  his  time  have  held  so  many. 
You  begin,  very  probably,  about  the  weather — 'tis  a  common 
subject,  but  what  sentiments  the  genius  of  Love  can  fling  into 
it  !  I  have  often,  for  my  part,  said  to  the  girl  of  my  heart  fo? 
the  time  being,  "•  It's  a  fine  day,"  or,  "  It's  a  rainy  morning  !  " 
in  a  way  that  has  brought  tears  to  her  eyes.  Something  beats 
in  your  heart,  and  twangle  I  a  corresponding  string  thrills  and 
echoes  in  hers.  You  offer  her  anything — her  knitting-needles, 
a  slice  of  bread-and-butter — what  causes  the  grateful  blush 
with  which  she  accepts  the  one  or  the  other?  Why,  she  sees 
your  heart  handed  over  to  her  upon  the  needles,  and  the 
bread-and-butter  is  to  her  a  sandwich  with  love  inside  it.  If 
you  say  to  your  grandmother,  "  Ma'am,  it's  a  fine  day,"  of 
what  not,  she  would  find  in  the  words  no  other  meaning  than 
their  outward  and  visible  one  ;  but  say  so  to  the  girl  you  love, 
and  she  understands  a  thousand  mystic  meanings  in  them. 
Thus,  in  a  word,  though  Dorothea  and  I  did  not,  probably,  on 
the  first  night  of  our  meeting,  talk  of  anything  more  than  the 
weather,  or  trumps,  or  some  subjects  which  to  such  listeners  as 
Schnabel  and  Klingenspohr  and  others  might  appear  quite 
ordinary,  yet  to  us  they  had  a  different  signification,  of  which 
Love  alone  held  the  key. 

Without  further  ado  then,  after  the  occurrences  of  that 
evening,  I  determined  on  staying  at  Kalbsbraten,  and  presenting 
my  card  the  next  day  to  the  Hof-Marshal,  requesting  to  have 
the  honor  of  being  presented  to  his  Highness  the  Prince,  at 
one  of  whose  court-balls  my  Dorothea  appeared  as  I  have 
described  her. 

It  was  summer  when  I  first  arrived  at  Kalbsbraten.  The 
little  court  was  removed  to  Siegmundslust,  his  Highness's 
countiy-seat :  no  balls  were  taking  place,  and,  in  consequence^ 


FITZ-BOODLE  'S  COjVFESSWNS.  567 

\  held  my  own  with  Dorothea  pretty  well.  I  treated  her  ad- 
mirer, Lieutenant  Klingenspohr,  with  perfect  scorn,  had  a 
manifest  advantage  over  Major  Schnabel,  and  used  somehow 
to  meet  the  fair  one  every  day,  walking  in  company  with  her 
mamma  in  the  palace  garden,  or  sitting  under  the  acacias,  with 
Belotte  in  her  mother's  lap,  and  the  favorite  romance  beside 
her.  Dear,  dear  Dorothea  !  what  a  number  of  novels  she  must 
have  read  in  her  time  !  She  confessed  to  me  that  she  had 
been  in  love  with  Uncas,  with  Saint  Preux,  with  Ivanhoe,  and 
with  hosts  of  German  heroes  of  romance;  and  when  I  asked 
her  if  she,  whose  heart  was  so  tender  towards  imaginary 
youths,  had  never  had  a  preference  for  any  one  of  her  living 
adorers,  she  only  looked,  and  blushed,  and  sighed,  and  said 
nothing. 

You  see  I  had  got  on  as  well  as  man  could  do,  until  the 
confounded  court  season  and  the  balls  began,  and  then — why, 
then  came  my  usual  luck. 

Waltzing  is  a  part  of  a  German  girl's  life.  With  the  best 
will  in  the  world — which,  I  doubt  not,  she  entertains  for  me, 
for  I  never  put  the  matter  of  marriage  directly  to  her — Doro- 
thea could  not  go  to  balls  and  not  waltz.  It  was  madness  to 
me  to  see  her  whirling  round  the  room  with  othcers,  attaches, 
prim  little  chamberlains  with  gold  keys  and  embroidered  coats, 
her  hair  floating  in  the  wind,  her  hand  reposing  upon  the 
abominable  little  dancer's  epaulet,  her  good-humored  face 
lighted  up  with  still  greater  satisfaction.  I  saw  that  I  must 
learn  to  waltz  too,  and  took  my  measures  accordingly. 

The  leader  of  the  ballet  at  the  Kalbsbraten  theatre  in  my 
time  was  Springbock,  from  Vienna.  He  had  been  a  regular 
Zephyr  once,  'twas  said,  in  his  younger  days  ;  and  though  he  is 
now  fifteen  stone  weight,  I  can,  helas !  recommend  him  con- 
scientiously as  a  master ;  and  I  determined  to  take  some  lessons 
from  him  in  the  art  which  I  had  neglected  so  foolishly  in  early 
life. 

It  may  be  said,  without  vanity,  that  I  was  an  apt  pupil,  and 
in  the  course  of  half  a  dozen  lessons  I  had  arrived  at  very  con- 
siderable agility  in  the  waltzing  line,  and  could  twirl  round  the 
room  with  him  at  such  a  pace  as  made  the  old  gentleman  pant 
again,  and  hardly  left  him  breath  enough  to  puff  out  a  compli- 
ment to  his  pupil.  I  may  say,  that  in  a  single  week  I  became 
an  expert  waltzer  ;  but  as  I  wished,  when  I  came  out  publicly 
in  that  character,  to  be  quite  sure  of  myself,  and  as  I  had 
hitherto  practised  not  with  a  lady,  but  with  a  very  fat  old  man, 
it  was  agreed  that  he  should  bring  a  lady  of  his  acquaintanc® 


568  THE  FirZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

to  perfect  me,  and  accordingly,  at  my  eighth  lesson,  Madamo 
Springbock  herself  came  to  the  dancing-room,  and  the  old 
Zephyr  performed  on  the  violin. 

If  any  man  ventures  the  least  sneer  with  regard  to  this  lady, 
or  dares  to  insinuate  anything  disrespectful  to  her  or  myself, 
I  say  at  once  that  he  is  an  impudent  calumniator.  Madame 
Springbock  is  old  enough  to  be  my  grandmother,  and  as  ugly  a 
woman  as  I  ever  saw  ;  but,  though  old,  she  vidiSpassionnee pour  la 
danse,  and  not  having  (on  account,  doubtless,  of  her  age  and  un- 
prepossessing appearance)  many  opportunities  for  indulging  in 
her  favorite  pastime,  made  up  for  lost  time  by  immense  activity 
whenever  she  could  get  a  partner.  In  vain,  at  the  end  of  the 
hour,  would  Springbock  exclaim,  "  Amalia,  my  soul's  blessing, 
the  time  is  up  !  "  "  Play  on,  dear  Alphonso  !  "  would  the  old 
lady  exclaim,  whisking  me  round  :  and  though  I  had  not  the 
least  pleasure  in  such  a  homely  partner,  yet  for  the  sake  of 
perfecting  myself,  I  waltzed  and  waltzed  with  her,  until  we 
were  both  half  dead  with  fatigue. 

At  the  end  of  three  weeks  I  could  waltz  as  well  as  any  man 
in  Germany. 

At  the  end  of  four  weeks  there  was  a  grand  ball  at  court  in 
honor  of  H.  H.  the  Prince  of  Dummerland  and  his  Princess, 
and  thoi  I  determined  I  would  come  out  in  public,  I  dressed 
myself  with  unusual  care  and  splendor.  My  hair  was  curled 
and  my  mustache  dyed  to  a  nicety  ;  and  of  the  four  hundred 
gentlemen  present,  if  the  girls  of  Kalbsbraten  did  select  one 
who  wore  an  English  hussar  uniform,  why  should  I  disguise 
the  fact }  In  spite  of  my  silence,  the  news  had  somehow  got 
abroad,  as  news  will  in  such  small  towns,  —  Herr  von  Fitz- 
Boodle  was  coming  out  in  a  waltz  that  evening.  His  Highness 
the  Duke  even  made  an  allusion  to  the  circumstance.  When 
on  this  eventful  night,  I  went,  as  usual,  and  made  him  my  bow 
in  the  presentation,  "  Vous,  monsieur,"  said  he — "  vous  qui 
etes  si  jeune,  devez  aimer  la  danse."  I  blushed  as  red  as  my 
trousers,  and  bowing,  went  away. 

I  stepped  up  to  Dorothea.  Heavens  !  how  beautiful  she 
looked  !  and  how  archly  she  smiled  as,  with  a  thumping  heart, 
I  asked  her  hand  for  a  waltz  I  She  took  out  her  little  mother- 
of-pearl  dancing-book,  she  wrote  down  my  name  with  her  pen- 
cil :  we  were  engaged  for  the  fourth  waltz,  and  till  then  I  left 
her  to  other  partners. 

Who  says  that  his  first  waltz  is  not  a  nervous  moment  ?  I 
vow  I  was  more  excited  than  by  any  duel  I  ever  fought.  I 
would  not  dance  any  contre-danse  or  galop.      I  repeatedly 


FTTZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  r6tt 

went  to  the  buffet  and  got  glasses  of  punch  (dear  simple  Ger- 
many !  'tis  with  rum-punch  and  egg-flip  thy  children  strengthen 
themselves  for  the  dance  !).  I  went  into  the  ball-room  and 
looked — the  couples  bounded  before  me,  the  music  clashed 
and  rung  in  my  ears — all  was  fiery,  feverish,  indistinct.  The 
gleaming  white  columns,  the  polished  oaken  floors  in  which 
the  innumerable  tapers  were  reflected — altogether  swam  before 
my  eyes,  and  I  was  in  a  pitch  of  madness  almost  when  the 
fourth  waltz  at  length  came.  "  Will  you  dance  with  your  sword 
on  I  "  said  the  sweetest  voice  in  the  world.  I  blushed,  and 
stammered,  and  trembled,  as  I  laid  down  that  weapon  and  my 
cap,  and  hark  !  the  music  began  ! 

Oh,  how  my  hand  trembled  as  I  placed  it  round  the  waist 
of  Dorothea  !  With  my  left  hand  I  took  her  right — did  she 
squeeze  it  ?  I  think  she  did — to  this  day  I  think  she  did. 
Away  we  went !  we  tripped  over  the  polished  oak  floor  like  two 
young  fairies.  "  Courage,  monsieur,"  said  she,  with  her  sweet 
smile.  Then  it  was  "  Tres  bien,  monsieur."  Then  I  heard 
the  voices  humming  and  buzzing  about.  "  II  danse  bien, 
I'Anglais."  "  Ma  foi,  oui,"  says  another.  On  we  went, 
twirling  and  twisting,  and  turning  and  whirling ;  couple  after 
couple  dropped  panting  off.  Little  Klingenspohr  himself  was 
obliged  to  give  in.  All  eyes  were  upon  us — we  were  going 
round  alone.     Dorothea  was  almost  exhausted,  when 

***** 

I  have  been  sitting  for  two  hours  since  I  marked  the  aste- 
risks, thinking — thinking.  I  have  committed  crimes  in  my  life 
— who  hasn't  ?  But  talk  of  remorse,  what  remorse  is  there  like 
l/ial  which  rushes  up  in  a  flood  to  my  brain  sometimes  when  I 
am  alone,  and  causes  me  to  blush  when  I'm   abed  in  the  dark  ? 

I  fell,  sir,  on  that  infernal  slippery  floor.  Down  we  came 
like  shot ;  we  rolled  over  and  over  in  the  midst  of  the  ball-room, 
the  music  going  ten  miles  an  hour,  800  pairs  of  eyes  fixed  upon 
us,  a  cursed  shriek  of  laughter  bursting  out  from  all  sides. 
Heavens  !  how  clear  I  heard  it,  as  we  went  on  rolling  and  roll- 
ing !  "  My  child  !  my  Dorothea  !  "  shrieked  out  Madame  Speck, 
rushing  forward,  and  as  soon  as  she  had  breath  to  do  so, 
Dorothea  of  course  screamed  too  ;  then  she  fainted,  then  she 
was  disentangled  from  out  my  spurs,  and  borne  off  by  a  bevy 
of  tittering  women.  "  Clumsy  brute  !  "  said  Madame  Speck, 
turning  her  fat  back  upon  me.  I  remained  upon  my  seanl, 
wild,  ghastly,  looking  about.  It  was  all  up  with  me — I  knew  it 
was.     I  wished  I  could  have  died  there,  and  I  wish  so  still. 

Klingenspohr  married  her,  that  is  the  long  and  short ;  but 


57° 


THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 


before  that  event  I  placed  a  sabre-cut  across  the  young  scoun* 
drel's  nose,  which  destroyed  his  beauty  forever. 

O  Dorothea !  you  can't  forgive  me — you  oughtn't  to  forgive 
me  ;  but  I  love  you  madly  still. 

My  next  flame  was  Ottilia  :  but  let  us  keep  her  for  another 
number  ;  mv  feelings  overpower  me  at  Dresent 


OTTILIA. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE  ALBUM — THE  MEDITERRANEAN  HEATH. 

Travelling  some  little  time  back  in  a  wild  part  of  Conne* 
mara,  where  I  had  been  for  fishing  and  seal-shooting,  I  had  the 
good  luck  to  get  admission  to  the  chateau  of  a  hospitable  Irish 
gentleman,  and  to  procure  some  news  of  my  once  dear  Ottilia. 

Yes,  of  no  other  than  Ottilia  v.  Schlippenschlopp,  the  Muse 
of  Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel,  the  friendly  little  town  far  away 
in  Sachsenland, — where  old  Speck  built  the  town  pump,  where 
Klingenspohr  was  slashed  across  the   nose, — where  Dorothea 

rolled  over  and  over  in  that  horrible  .waltz  with  Fitz-Boo 

Psha  ! — away  with  the  recollection  :  but  wasn't  it  strange  to  get 
news  of  Ottilia  in  the  wildest  corner  of  Ireland,  where  I  never 
should  have  thought  to  hear  her  gentle  name  ?  Walking  on 
that  very  Urrisbeg  Mountain  under  whose  shadow  I  heard 
Ottilia's  name,  Mackay,  the  learned  author  of  the  "  Flora  Pat- 
landica,"  discovered  the  Mediterranean  heath, — such  a  flower 
as  I  have  often  plucked  on  the  sides  of  Vesuvius,  and  as  Pros- 
erpine, no  doubt,  amused  herself  in  gathering  as  she  strayed 
in  the  fields  of  P^nna.  Here  it  is — the  self-same  flower,  peering 
out  at  the  Atlantic  from  Roundstone  Bay  ;  here,  too,  in  this 
wild  lonely  place,  nestles  the  fragrant  memory  of  my  Ottilia  ! 

In  a  word,  after  a  day  on  Ballylynch  Lake  (where,  with  a 
brown  fly  and  a  single  hair,  I  killed  fourteen  salmon,  the  smallest 
twenty-nine  pounds  weight,  the  largest  somewhere  about  five 
stone  ten),  my  young  friend  Blake  Bodkin  Lynch  Browne  (a  fine 
lad  who  has  made  his  continental  tour)  and  I  adiourned,  after 
dinner,  to  the  young  gentleman's  private  room,  for  the  purpose 
of  smoking  a  certain  cigar ;  which  is  never  more  pleasant  than 

37  ^=70 


572  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

after  a  hard  clay's  sport,  or  a  day  spent  in-doors,  or  after  a  good 
dinner,  or  a  bad  one,  or  at  night  when  you  are  tired,  or  in  the 
morning  when  you  are  fresh,  or  of  a  cold  winter's  day,  or  of  a 
scorching  summer's  afternoon,  or  at  any  other  moment  you 
choose  to  fix  upon. 

What  should  I  see  in  Blake's  room  but  a  rack  of  pipes,  such 
as  are  to  be  found  in  almost  all  the  bachelors'  rooms  in  Ger- 
many, and  amongst  them  was  a  porcelain  pipe-head  bearing  the 
image  of  the  Kalbsbraten  pump!  There  it  was:  the  old  spout, 
the  old  familiar  allegory  of  Mars,  Bacchus,  Apollo  virorum,  and 
the  rest,  that  I  had  so  often  looked  at  from  Hofarchitect  Speck's 
window,  as  I  sat  there  by  the  side  of  Dorothea.  The  old  gentle- 
man had  given  me  one  of  these  very  pipes;  for  he  had  hundreds 
of  them  painted,  wherewith  he  used  to  gratify  almost  every 
stranger  who  came  into  his  native  town. 

Any  old  place  with  which  I  have  once  been  familiar  (as,  per- 
haps, I  have  before  stated  in  these  "  Confessions  " — but  never 
mind  that)  is  in  some  sort  dear  to  me  :  and  were  I  Lord  Shoot- 
ingcastle  or  Colonel  Popland,  I  think  after  a  residence  of  six 
months  there  I  should  love  the  Fleet  Prison.  As  I  saw  the  old 
familiar  pipe,  I  took  it  down,  and  crammed  it  with  Cavendish 
tobacco,  and  lay  down  on  a  sofa,  and  puffed  away  for  an  hour 
wellnigh,  thinking  of  old,  old  times. 

"  You're  very  entertaining  to-night,  Fitz,"  says  young  Blake, 
who  had  made  several  tumblers  of  punch  for  me,  which  I  had 
gulped  down  without  saying  a  word.  "  Don't  ye  think  ye'd  be 
more  easy  in  bed  than  snorting  and  sighing  there  on  my  sofa, 
and  groaning  fit  to  make  me  go  hang  myself.''  " 

"  I  am  thinking,  Blake,"  says  I,  "  about  Pumpernickel,  where 
old  Speck  gave  you  this  pipe." 

"  'Deed  he  did,"  replies  the  young  man  ;  "  and  did  ye  know 
the  old  ILir'n  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  said  I.  "  My  friend,  I  have  been  by  the  banks  of 
the  Bendemeer.  Tell  me,  are  the  nightingales  still  singing 
there,  and  do  the  roses  still  bloom  ? " 

"  The  hwhat  ?  "  cries  Blake.  "  What  the  divvle,  Fit-z,  are 
you  growling  about  ?  Bendemeer  Lake's  in  Westmoreland,  as  I 
preshume  ;  and  as  for  roses  and  nightingales,  I  give  ye  my  word 
it's  Greek  ye're  talking  to  me."  And  Greek  it  very  possibly 
was,  for  my  young  friend,  though  as  good  across  country  as  any 
man  in  his  county,  has  not  the  fine  feeling  and  tender  percep- 
tion of  beauty  which  may  be  found  elsewhere,  dear  madam. 

"  Tell  me  about  Speck,  Blake,  and  Kalbsbraten,  and 
Dorothea,  and  Klingenspohr  her  husband."' 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  ^yj 

"  He  with  the  cut  across  the  nose,  is  it  ?  "  cries  Blake.  "  I 
know  him  well,  and  his  old  wife." 

'*  His  old  what,  sir  ! "  cries  Fitz-Boodle,  jumping  up  from  his 
seat.  **  Klingenspohr's  wife  old  ! — Is  he  married  again  ? — Is 
Dorothea,  then,  d-d-dead  ?  " 

"  Dead  ! — no  more  dead  than  you  are,  only  I  take  her  to  be 
five-and-thirty.  And  when  a  woman  has  had  nine  children,  you 
know,  she  looks  none  the  younger  ;  and  I  can  tell  ye,  that  when 
she  trod  on  my  corruns  at  a  ball  at  the  Grand  Juke's,  I  felt 
something  heavier  than  a  feather  on  my  foot." 

"  Madame  de  Klingenspohr,  then,"  replied  I,  hesitating 
somewhat,  "has  grown  rather — rather  st-st-out  ?  "  I  could 
hardly  get  out  the  out,  and  trembled  I  don't  know  why  as  I 
asked  the  question. 

"  Stout,  begad  ! — she  weighs  fourteen  stone,  saddle  and 
bridle.  That's  right,  down  goes  my  pipe  ;  flop  !  crash  falls  the 
tumbler  into  the  fender  !  Break  away,  my  boy,  and  remember, 
whoever  breaks  a  glass  here  pays  a  dozen." 

The  fact  was,  that  the  announcement  of  Dorothea's  changed 
condition  caused  no  small  disturbance  within  me,  and  I 
expressed  it  in  the  abrupt  manner  mentioned  by  young  Blake. 

Roused  thus  from  my  reverie,  I  questioned  the  young  fellow 
about  his  residence  at  Kalbsbraten,  which  has  been  always  since 
the  war  a  favorite  place  for  our  young  gentry,  and  heard  with 
some  satisfaction  that  PotzdorfT  was  married  to  the  Behrenstein, 
Haarbart  had  left  the  dragoons,  the  Crown  Prince  had  broken 

with  the ,  but  mum  !  of  what  interest  are  all  these  details 

to  the    reader,  who  has    never  been    at  friendly  little  Kalbs- 
braten ? 

Presently  Lynch  reaches  me  down  one  of  the  three  books 
that  formed  his  library  (the  "  Racing  Calendar  "  and  a  book  of 
fishing-f^ies  making  up  the  remainder  of  the  set),  "  And  there's 
my  album,"  says  he.  "You'll  find  plenty  of  hands  in  it  that 
you'll  recognize,  as  you  are  an  old  Pumpernickelaner."  And 
so  I  did,  in  truth  :  it  was  a  little  book  after  the  fashion  of  Ger- 
man albums,  in  which  good  simple  little  ledger  every  friend  or 
acquaintance  of  the  owner  inscribes  a  poem  or  stanza  from  some 
favorite  poet  or  philosopher  with  the  transcriber's  own  name, 
as  thus : — 

/ 

"  To  the  true  house-friend,  and  beloved  Irelaudish  youth. 

"  '  Sera  minqnaiH  est  ad  Bonos  mores  via* 

Wackerbart,  Professor  nt  iVo 
Grand-Ducal  Kalbsbiaten-Pumpernickelisch  C;'mnaKium.* 


574  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

Another  writes, — 

"  '  Meander  of!  roses  and /or get  tne  not^^ 

Amalia  v.  Nachtmutzk. 
Geb  v.  Schlafrock," 

with  a  flourish,  and  the  picture  mayhap  of  a  rose.  Let  the 
reader  imagine  some  hundreds  of  these  interesting  inscriptions, 
and  lie  will  have  an  idea  of  the  book. 

Turning  over  the  leaves  I  came  presently  on  Dorotliea's 
hand.  There  it  was,  the  little  neat,  pretty  handwriting,  the 
dear  old  up-and-down-strokes  that  I  had  not  looked  at  for 
many  a  long  year, — the  Mediterranean  heath,  which  grew  on 
the  sunniest  banks  of  Fitz- Boodle's  existence,  and  here  found, 
dear,  dear  little  sprig!  in  rude  Galwagian  bog-lands. 

"  Look  at  the  other  side  of  the  page,"  says  Lynch,  rather 
sarcastically  (for  I  don't  care  to  confess  that  I  kissed  the  name 
of  "  Dorothea  v.  Klingenspohr,  born  v.  Speck  "  written  under 
an  extremely  feeble  jDassage  of  verse.)  "  Look  at  the  other 
side  of  the  paper  !  " 

I  did,  and  what  do  you  think  I  saw  ? 

I  saw  the  writing  of  five  of  the  little  Klingenspohrs,  who 
have  all  sprung  up  since  my  time. 

*  *  *  *  * 

"  Ha !  ha !  haw  !  "  screamed  the  impertinent  young  Irish- 
man, and  the  story  was  all  over  Connemara  and  Joyce's  Coun- 
try in  a  day  after. 


CHAPTER   IL 

OTTILIA   IN    PARTICULAR. 


Some  kind  critic  who  peruses  these  writings  will,  doubtless, 
have  the  goodness  to  point  out  that  the  simile  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean heath  is  applied  to  two  personages  in  this  chajDter — to 
Ottilia  and  Dorothea,  and  say,  Psha !  the  fellow  is  but  a  poor 
unimaginative  creature  not  to  be  able  to  find  a  simile  apiece  at 
least  for  the  girls  \  how  much  better  would  7uc  have  done  the 
business ! 

Well,  it  is  a  very  pretty  simile.  The  girls  were  rivals,  were 
beautiful,  I  loved  them  both. — which  should  have  the  sprig  of 
heath  .?     Mr.  Cruikshank  (who  has  taken  to  serious  painting) 


FITZ-BOODLE  'S  CONFESSIONS. 


S7S 


is  getting  ready  for  the  exhibition  a  fine  piece,  represcnling 
Fitz-Boodle  on  the  Urrisbeg  Mountain,  county  Galwa}',  Ireland, 
with  a  sprig  of  heath  in  his  hand,  hesitating,  like  Paris,  on 
which  of  the  beauties  he  should  bestow  it.  In  the  background 
is  a  certain  animal  between  two  bundles  of  hay ;  but  that  I 
take  to  represent  the  critic,  puzzled  to  which  of  my  young 
beauties  to  assign  the  choice. 

If  Dorothea  had  been  as  rich  as  Miss  Coutts,  and  had 
come  to  me  the  next  day  after  the  accident  at  the  ball  and 
said,  "  George,  will  you  marry  me  ?  "  it  must  not  be  supposed  I 
would  have  done  any  such  thing.  77?a/ dream  had  vanished 
forever  :  rage  and  pride  took  the  place  of  love  ;  and  the  only 
chance  I  had  of  recovering  from  my  dreadful  discomfiture  was 
by  bearing  it  bravely,  and  trying,  if  possible,  to  awaken  a  little 
compassion  in  my  favor.  I  limped  home  (arranging  my  scheme 
with  great  presence  of  mind  as  I  actually  sat  spinning  there 
on  the  ground) — I  limped  home,  sent  for  Pflastersticken,  tlie 
court-surgeon,  and  addressed  him  to  the  following  effect ; 
''  Pflastersticken,"  says  I,  "there  has  been  an  accident  at  court 
of  which  you  will  hear.  You  will  send  in  leeches,  pills,  and 
the  deuce  knows  what,  and  you  will  say  that  I  have  dislocated 
my  leg:  for  some  days  you  will  state  that  I  am  in  considerable 
danger.  You  are  a  good  fellow  and  a  man  of  courage  I  know, 
for  which  very  reason  you  can  appreciate  those  qualities  in 
another ;  so  mind,  if  you  breathe  a  word  of  my  secret,  either 
you  or  I  must  lose  a  life." 

Away  went  the  surgeon,  and  the  next  day  all  Kalbsbrateu 
knew  that  I  was  on  the  point  of  death  :  I  had  been  delirious 
all  night,  had  had  eighty  leeches,  besides  I  don"'t  know  how 
much  medicine  ;  but  the  Kalbsbrateners  knew  to  a  scruple. 
Whenever  anybody  was  ill,  this  little  kind  society  knew  what 
medicines  were  prescribed.  Everj'body  in  the  town  knew  what 
everybody  had  for  dinner.  If  Madame  Rumpel  had  her  satin 
dyed  ever  so  quietlv,  the  whole  society  was  on  the  {jjiItIvc ;  if 
Coimtess  Pultuski  sent  to  Berlin  for  a  new  set  of  teeth,  not  a 
person  in  Kalbsbraten  but  what  was  ready  to-  compliment  her 
as  she  put  them  on  ;  if  Potzdorff  paid  his  tailor's  bill,  or  Muf- 
finstein  bought  a  piece  of  black  wax  for  his  mustaches,  it  was 
the  talk  of  the  little  city.  And  so,  of  course,  was  my  accident. 
In  their  sorrow  for  my  misfortune,  Dorothea's  was  quite  for- 
gotten, and  those  eighty  leeches  saved  me.  I  became  inter- 
esting ;  I  had  cards  left  at  my  door  ;  and  I  kept  my  room  for 
a  fortnight,  during  which  time  I  read  every  one  of  M.  Kotze- 
bue's  plays. 


576  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

At  the  end  of  that  period  I  was  convalescent,  though  still  a 
little  lame.  I  called  at  old  Speck's  house  and  apologized  for 
ray  clumsiness,  with  the  most  admirable  coolness  ;  I  appeared 
at  court,  and  stated  calmly  that  I  did  not  intend  to  dance  any 
more  ;  and  when  Klingensphor  grinned,  I  told  that  young  gen- 
tlemen such  a  piece  of  my  mind  as  led  to  his  wearing  a  large 
sticking-plaster  patch  on  his  nose  :  which  was  split  as  neatly 
down  the  middle  as  you  would  split  an  orange  at  dessert.  In 
a  word,  what  man  could  do  to  repair  my  defeat,  I  did. 

There  is  but  one  thing  now  of  which  I  am  ashamed — of 
those  killing  epigrams  which  I  wrote  {mon  Dieie  f  must  I  own 
it  ? — but  even  the  fury  of  my  anger  proves  the  extent  of  my 
love  !)  against  the  Speck  family.  They  were  handed  about  in 
confidence  at  court,  and  made  a  frightful  sensation : 

"  Is  it  postible  f 

**  Tliere  happened  at  Schloss  P-mp— rn-ckel, 

A  strange  mishap  our  sides  to  tickle. 

And  set  the  people  in  a  roar  ; — 
A  strange  caprice  of  Fortune  fickle : 
I  never  thought  at  Pumpernickel 

To  see  a  SPECac  upmi  ihejlaov  !  " 

**  Z,a  Perfide  Al&ion  ;  or,  a  Caniion  to  Waliiers^ 

"  '  Come  to  the  dance,'  the  Briton  said. 
And  forward  D-r-th-a  led. 

Fair,  fresh,  and  three-and-t\venty  ! 
Ah,  girls,  beware  of  Britons  red! 
What  wonder  that  it  turtle d  her  headi 

Sat  vkrbum  sapienti." 

"  Reasons  for  not  Marrying. 

♦'  'The lovely  Miss  S. 
Will  sarely  say  "  yes," 
You've  only  to  ask  and  try  ;' 
'That  subject  we'll  quit,' 
Says  Georgy  the  wit, 
''I've  a  tttiick  letter  Spec  in  my  eye  !  " 

Ihis  last  epigram  especially  was  voted  so  killing  that  it  flew 
likii  wildfire  ;  and  I  know  for  a  fact  that  our  Charge-d'Affaires 
at  Kalbsbraten  sent  a  courier  express  with  it  to  the  Foreign 
Office  in  England,  whence,  through  our  amiable  Foreign  Secre- 
tary, Lord  P-lm-rston,  it  made  its  way  into  every  fashionable 
circle  :  nay,  I  have  reason  to  believe  caused  a  smile  on  the  cheek 
of  R-y-Ity  itself.  Now  that  Time  has  taken  away  the  sting  of 
these  epigrams,  there  can  be  no  harm  in  giving  them  ;  and 
'twas  well  enough  to  endeavor  to  hide  under  the  lash  of  wit  the 
bitter  pangs  of  humiliation  :  but  my  heart  bleeds  now  to  think 
that  T  should  have  ever  brought  a  tear  on  the  gentle  cheek  of 
Dorothea. 


F/TZ-BOODLE'S  COATFESSIOiVS.  ryj 

Not  content  with  this — with  humiliating  her  by  satire,  and 
with  wounding  her  accepted  lover  across  the  nose — I  deter- 
mined to  carry  my  revenge  still  farther,  and  to  fall  in  love  with 
somebody  else.     This  person  was  Ottilia  v.  Schlippenschlopp. 

Otho  Sigismund  Freyherr  von  Schlippenschlopp,  Knight 
Grand  Cross  of  the  Ducal  Order  of  the  Two-Necked  Swan  of 
Pumpernickel,  of  the  Porc-et-Siflet  of  Kalbsbraten,  Commander 
of  the  George  and  Blue-Boar  of  Dummerland,  Excellency,  and 
High  Chancellor  of  the  United  Duchies,  lived  in  the  second 
floor  of  a  house  in  the  Schwapsgasse  ;  where,  with  his  private 
income  and  his  revenues  as  Chancellor,  amounting  together  to 
300/.  per  annum,  he  maintained  such  a  state  as  very  few  other 
officers  of  the  Grand  Ducal  Crown  could  exhibit.  The  Baron 
is  married  to  Maria  Antoinetta,  a  Countess  of  the  house  of 
Kartoffelstadt,  branches  of  which  have  taken  root  all  over  Ger- 
many. He  has  no  sons,  and  but  one  daughter,  the  Fraulein 
Ottilia. 

The  Chancellor  is  a  worthy  old  gentleman,  too  fat  and 
wheezy  to  preside  at  the  Privy  Council,  fond  of  his  pipe,  his 
ease,  and  his  rubber.  His  lady  is  a  very  tall  and  pale  Roman- 
nosed  Countess,  who  looks  as  gentle  as  Mrs.  Robert  Roy, 
where,  in  the  novel,  she  is  for  putting  Baillie  Nicol  Jarvie  into 
the  lake,  and  who  keeps  the  honest  Chancellor  in  the  greatest 
order.  The  Fraulein  Ottilia  had  not  arived  at  Kalbsbraten 
when  the  little  afifair  between  me  and  Dorothea  was  going  on  ; 
or  rather  had  only  just  come  in  for  the  conclusion  of  it,  being 
presented  for  the  first  time  that  year  at  the  ball  where  I — 
where  I  met  with  my  accident. 

At  the  time  when  the  Countess  was  young,  it  was  not  the 
fashion  in  her  country  to  educate  the  young  ladies  so  highly  as 
since  they  have  been  educated  ;  and  provided  they  could' waltz, 
sew,  and  make  pudding,  they  were  thought  to  bedecently  bred  ; 
being  seldom  called  upon  for  algebra  or  Sanscrit  in  the  dis- 
charge of  the  honest  duties  of  their  lives.  But  Fraulein  Ot- 
tilia was  of  the  modern  school  in  this  respect,  and  came  back 
from  \\Q.x pension  at  Strasburg  speaking  all  the  languages,  dab- 
bling in  all  the  sciences;  an  historian,  a  poet, — a  blue  of  the 
ultramarinest  sort,  in  a  word.  What  a  difference  there  was, 
for  instance,  between  poor,  simple  Dorothea's  love  of  novel- 
reading  and  the  profound  encyclopaedic  learning  of  Ottilia! 

Before  the  latter  arrived  from  Strasburg  (where  she  had 
been  under  the  careof  her  aunt  the  canoness.  Countess  Ottilia 
of  Kartoffelstadt,  to  whom  I  here  beg  to  offer  my  humblest 
respects),   Dorothea  had  passed  for   a  bd  esprit  in  the  little 


578 


THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 


court  circle,  and  her  little  simple  stock  of  accomplishments 
had  amused  us  all  very  well.  She  used  to  sing  "  Herz,  mein 
Herz  "  and  "  T'en  souviens-tu,"  in  a  decent  manner  {once.,  be- 
fore heaven,  I  thought  her  singing  better  than  Grisi's),  and 
then  she  had  a  little  album  in  which  she  drew  flowers,  and  used 
to  embroider  slippers  wonderfully,  and  M'as  very  merry  at  a 
game  of  loto  or  forfeits,  and  had  a  hundred  small  agremais  de 
socicte  \s\\\c\\  rendered  her  an  acceptable  member  of  it. 

But  when  Ottilia  arrived,  poor  Dolly's  reputation  was 
crushed  in  a  month.  The  former  wrote  poems  both  in  French 
and  German  ;  she  painted  landscapes  and  portraits  in  real  oil; 
and  she  twanged  off  a  rattling  piece  of  Listz  or  Kalkbrenner 
\y\  such  a  brilliant  way,  that  Dora  scarcely  dared  to  touch  the 
iiNstrument  after  her,  or  venture,  after  Ottilia  had  trilled  and 
gurgled  through  "  Una  voce,"  or  "  Di  piacer  "  (Rossini  was 
in  fashion  then),  to  lift  up  her  little  modest  pipe  in  a  ballad. 
What  was  the  use  of  the  poor  thing  going  to  sit  in  the  park 
where  so  many  of  the  young  officers  used  ever  to  gather  round 
her  ?  Whirr !  Ottilia  went  by  galloping  on  a  chestnut  mare 
with  a  groom  after  her,  and  presently  all  the  young  fellows  who 
could  buy  or  hire  horseflesh  were  prancing  in  her  train. 

When  they  met,  Ottilia  would  bounce  towards  her  soul's 
darling,  and  put  her  hands  round  her  waist,  and  call  her  by  a 
thousand  affectionate  names,  and  then  talk  of  her  as  only  ladies 
or  authors  can  talk  of  one  another.  How  tenderly  she  would 
hint  at  Dora's  little  imperfections  of  education ! — how  cleverly 
she  would  insinuate  that  the  poor  girl  had  no  wit !  and,  thank 
God,  no  more  she  had.  The  fact  is,  that  do  what  I  will  I  see 
I'm  in  love  with  her  still,  and  would  be  if  she  had  fifty  chil- 
dren ;  but  my  passion  blinded  me  then,  and  every  arrow  that 
fiery  Ottilia  discharged  I  marked  with  savage  joy.  Dolly, 
thank  heaven,  didn't  mind  the  wit  much  \  she  was  too  simple 
for  that.  But  still  the  recurrence  of  it  would  leave  in  her 
heart  a  vague,  indefinite  feeling  of  pain,  and  somehow  she 
began  to  understand  that  her  empire  was  passing  away,  and 
that  her  dear  friend  hated  her  like  poison  ;  and  so  she  married 
Klingenspohr.  I  have  written  myself  almost  into  a  reconcilia- 
tion with  the  silly  fellow  ;  for  the  truth  is,  he  has  been  a  good, 
honest  husband  to  her,  and  she  has  children,  and  makes  pud- 
dings, and  is  happy. 

Ottilia  was  pale  and  delicate.  She  wore  her  glistening 
black  hair  in  bands,  and  dressed  in  vapory  white  muslin.  She 
sang  her  own  words  to  her  harp,  and  they  commonly  insinu- 
ated that  she  was  alone  in  the  world, — that  she  suffered  some 


FITZ-BOODLE  'S  CONFESSIONS. 


579 


inexpressible  and  mysterious  heart-pangs,  the  lot  of  all  fine: 
geniuses, — that  though  she  lived  and  moved  in  the  world  she 
was  not  of  it, — that  she  was  of  a  consumptive  tendency  and 
might  look  for  a  premature  interment.  She  even  had  fixed  on  the 
spot  where  she  should  lie  :  the  violets  grew  there,  she  said,  the 
river  went  moaning  by  ;  the  gray  willow  whispered  sadly  over 
her  head,  and  her  heart  pined  to  be  at  rest.  "Mother,"  she 
would  say,  turning  to  her  parent,  "  promise  me — promise  me  to 
lay  me  in  that  spot  when  the  parting  hour  has  come  !  "  At 
which  Madame  de  Schlippenschlopp  would  shriek,  and  grasp 
her  in  her  arms  ;  and  at  which,  I  confess,  I  would  myself  blub' 
ber  like  a  child.  She  had  six  darling  friends  at  school,  and 
every  courier  from  Kalbsbraten  carried  off  whole  reams  of  her 
letter-paper. 

In  Kalbsbraten,  as  in  every  other  German  town,  there  are 
a  vast  number  of  literary  characters,  of  whom  our  young  friend 
quickly  became  the  chief.  They  set  up  a  literary  journal,  which 
appeared  once  a  week,  upon  light-blue  or  primrose  paper,  and 
which,  in  compliment  to  the  lovely  Ottilia's  maternal  name, 
was  called  the  Kartoffehikranz.  Here  are  a  couple  of  her 
ballads  extracted  from  the  Kranz,  and  by  far  the  most  cheerful 
specimen  of  her  style.  For  in  her  songs  she  never  would  will- 
ingly let  off  the  heroines  without  a  suicide  or  a  consumption. 
She  never  would  hear  of  such  a  thing  as  a  happy  marriage, 
and  had  an  appetite  for  grief  quite  amazing  in  so  young  a  per- 
son. As  for  her  dying  and  desiring  to  be  buried  under  the 
willow-tree,  of  which  the  first  ballad  is  the  subject,  though  I 
believed  the  story  then,  I  have  at  present  some  doubts  about 
it.  For,  since  the  publication  of  my  Memoirs,  I  have  been 
thrown  much  into  the  society  of  literarj^  persons  (who  admire 
my  style  hugely),  and  egad  !  though  some  of  them  are  dismal 
enough  in  their  works,  I  find  them  in  their  persons  the  least 
sentimental  class  that  ever  a  gentleman  fell  in  vvith. 

"THE  WILLOW-TREE. 


"  Know  ye  the  wiilow-tree 

Whose  gray  leaves  quiver, 
Whispering  gloomily 

To  yon  pale  river? 
Lady,  at  even-tide 

Wander  not  near  it : 
They  say  its  branches  hide 

A  sad,  lost  spirit ! 

"  Once  to  the  willow-tree 
A  maid  came  fearful, 
Vale  seemed  her  clieek  to  be, 
Her  blue  eye  tearful ; 


Soon  as  she  saw  the  tree, 
Her  step  moved  tleeter. 

No  one  was  there — ah  me  1 
No  one  to  meet  her! 

Quick  beat  her  heart  to  hear 

The  far  bell's  chime 
Toll  from  the  chapel-tower 

The  trysting  time  ; 
But  the  red  sun  went  down 

In  golden  flame, 
And  though  she  looked  round, 

Yet  no  one  came  ! 


58o 


THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 


"  Presently  came  the  night, 

Sadly  to  greet  her, — 
Moon  in  lier  silver  light, 

Stars  in  their  glitter. 
"  Then  sank  the  moon  away 

Under  the  billow, 
Still  wept  the  maid  alone — 

There  by  the  willow ! 

"  Through  the  long  darkness, 

By  the  stream  rolling, 
Hour  after  hour  went  on 

Tolling  and  tolling. 
Long  was  the  darkness. 

Lonely  and  stilly  ; 
Shrill  came  the  night  wind, 

Piercing  and  chilly. 


"  Shrill  blew  the  morning  breeze, 

Biting  and  cold, 
Bleak  peers  tlio  gray  dawn 

Over  the  wold. 
Bleak  over  moor  and  stream 

Looks  the  gray  dawn, 
Gray,  with  dishevelled  hair. 

Still  stands  the  willow  there — 

The  maid  is  gone! 

"  Dontine,  Do-inine  I 
Sing-  we  a  lUany, — 
Sinf^  for  poor  viaideii-hearis  broken  and 
nvesiry ; 
Do»!i>/e,  DotKine  ! 
Sing'  we  a  litany, 
IVail  we  and  weep  we  a  wild  Miserere  I " 


One  of  the  chief  beauties  of  this  balLacl  (for  the  translation  of 
which  I  received  some  well-merited  compliments)  is  the  delicate 
way  in  which  the  suicide  of  the  poor  young  woman  under  the 
willow-tree  is  hinted  at ;  for  that  she  threw  herself  into  the 
water  and  became  one  among  the  lilies  of  the  stream,  is  as 
clear  as  a  pikestaff.  Her  suicide  is  committed  some  time  in 
the  darkness,  when  the  slow  hours  move  on  tolling  and  tolling, 
and  is  hinted  at  darkly  as  befits  the  time  and  the  deed. 

But  that  unromantic  brute,  Van  Cutsem,  the  Dutch  Chargd- 
d' Affaires,  sent  to  the  Kartoffelnkranz  of  the  week  after  a  con- 
clusion of  the  ballad,  which  shows  what  a  poor  creature  he 
must  be.  His  pretext  for  writing  it  was,  he  said,  because  lie 
could  not  bear  such  melancholy  endings  to  poems  and  young 
women,  and  therefore  he  submitted  the  following  lines  : — 


"  Long  by  the  willow-trees 
Vainly  they  sought  her. 

Wild  rang  the  mother's  screams 
O'er  the  gray  water  : 

'  Where  is  my  lovely  one  ? 
Where  is  my  daughter? 


'  Rouse  thee.  Sir  Constable — 
Kouse  thee  and  look  ; 

Fisherman,  bring  your  net, 
Boatman,  your  hook. 

Beat  in  the  lily-beds. 
Dive  in  the  brook !  ' 


"  Vainly  the  constable 

Shouted  and  called  her  ; 

Vainly  the  fisherman 
Beat  the  green  alder  ; 

Vainly  he  flung  the  net, 
Never  it  hauled  her  i 


Mother,  beside  the  fire 
Sat,  her  nightcap  in  J 

Father,  in  easy-chair. 
Gloomily  napping  ; 

When  at  the  window-sill 
Came  a  light  tapping  1 


"  And  a  pale  countenance 

Looked  through  the  casemetlt. 
Loud  beat  the  mother's  heart, 

Sick  with  amazement  ; 
And  at  the  vision,  which 

Came  to  surprise  her. 
Shrieked  m  an  agony — 

'  Lor'!  it's  Elizarl ' 


Yes,  'twas  Elizabeth — 

Yes,  'twas  their  girl  ; 
Pale  was  her  cheek,  and  her 

Hair  out  of  curl. 
'  Mother  1  '   che  loving  one, 

Blushing,  exclaimed, 
'  Let  not  your  innocent 

Lizzy  be  blamed. 


FITZ-BOODLE^S  CONFESSIONS. 


S3i 


'Yesterday,  going  to  aunt 

Jor.es''s  to  tea. 
Mother,  -dear  motlier,  1 

Forget  tlie  do  or- key  ! 
And  as  the  night  was  cold. 

And  the  way  steep, 
Mrs.  Jones  kept  me  to 

Breakfast  and  sleep. 


'  Whether  her  Pa  and  Ma 
Fully  believed  her. 
That  we  shall  iiev«r  know. 
Stem  they  received  her  ; 


And  for  the  work  of  tlaat 
Cruel,  though  short,  night. 

Sent  her  to  bed  without 
Tea  fur  a  f ortnighu 


ff'ey  diddle  diddleiy^ 

Cat  and  the  Fiddleiy, 
Maidens  of  E)igland  take  taulion  if 
sJteJ 
Let  Jove  ^}id  suicide 
Never  tempt youaside-. 
And  ahoays   remember  io  tah:  {ki 
door-key  i  " 


Some  people  laughed  at  this  parody,  and  ■even  preferred  it 
to  the  original ;  but  for  rayself  I  have  no  patience  with  the  in- 
dividual who  can  turn  the  finest  sentiments  of  our  nature  into 
ridicule,  and  rnake  everything  sacred  a  subject  of  scorn.  The 
next  ballad  is  less  gloomy  than  that  of  the  willow-tree,  and 
in  it  the  lovely  writer  expresses  her  longing  for  what  has 
charmed  us  all,  and  as  it  were,  squeezes  the  whole  spirit  of  the 
fairy  tale  into  a  few  stanzas  : — 

^' FAIRY  DAYS. 


"  Beside  the  old  'hall-fire — upon  my  nurse's  knee. 
Of  happy  fairy  days — what  tales  were  told  to  me!  _ 
I  thought  tiie  world  was  once — all  peopled  with  princesses. 
And  mV  heart  would  beat  to  hear— their  loves  and  their  distresses  ; 
And  many  a  quiet  night, — in  slumber  sweet  and  deep. 
The  pretty  fairy  people — would  visit  me  in  sleep, 

"  I  saw  thens  in  my  dreams — come  flying  east  and  west. 
With  wondrous  fairy  gifts — the  new  born  babe  they  bless'd  ; 
One  has  brought  a  jewel — and  one  a  crown  of  gold. 
And  one  has  brought  a  curse — but  she  is  wrinkled  and  old. 
The  gentle  queen  turns  pale — to  hear  those  words  of  sin. 
But  the  king  he  only  laughs— and  bids  the  dance  begin. 

"  The  babe  has  grown  to  be — the  fairest  of  the  land 
And  rides  the  forest  green — a  liawk  upon  her  hand. 
An  ambling  palfrey  white — a  goldjn  robe  and  crown  ; 
I've  seen  her  in  my  dreams — ridnig  up  and  down  ; 
And  heard  the  ogre  laugh — as  shclell  into  his  snare, 
At  the  little  tender  creature — who  wept  and  tore  her  hairl 

•'  But  ever  when  it  seemed — her  need  was  at  the  sorest 
A  prince  in  shining  mail — comes  prancing  through  the  forest. 
A  waving  ostrich-plume — a  buckler  burnished  bright  ; 
I've  seen  him  in  my  dreams— good  sooth!  a  gallant  knight. 
His  lips  are  coral  red — beneath  a  dark  mustache  ; 
See  how  he  waves  his  hand — and  how  his  blue  eyes  flash! 

"  '  Come  forth,  thou  Paynim  knight !  '—he  shouts  in  accents  clear 
The  giant  and  the  maid — both  tremble  his  voice  lo  hear. 
Saint  Mary  guard  him  well ! — he  draws  his  falchion  keen, 
The  giant  and  the  knight — are  fighting  on  the  green. 
I  see  them  in  my  dreams — his  blade  gives  stroke  on  stroke, 
The  giant  pants  and  reels — and  tumbles  like  an  oak ! 


582  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS, 

"  With  what  a  blushing  grace — he  falls  npon  his  knee 
And  takes  the  lady's  hand — and  whisjiers,  *  You  are  free  t ' 
Ah  !  liappy  childish  tales — of  knight  and  faerie  .' 
I  waken  from  my  dreams — but  there's  ne'er  a  knight  for  me  ; 
I  waken  from  my  dreams — and  wish  that  1  could  be 
A  child  by  the  old  hall-fire — upou  my  nurse's  knee." 

Indeed,  Ottilia  looked  like  a  fairy  herself  :  pale,  small,  slim, 
and  airy.  You  could  not  see  her  face,  as  it  were,  for  her  eyes, 
which  were  so  wild,  and  so  tender,  and  shone  so  that  they 
would  have  dazzled  an  eagle,  much  more  a  poor  goose  of  a 
Fitz-Boodle.  In  the  theatre,  when  she  sat  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  house,  those  big  eyes  used  to  pursue  me  as  I  sat  pretend- 
ing to  listen  to  the  "  Zauberflote,"  or  to  "  Don  Carlos,"  or 
"  Egraont,"  and  at  the  tender  passages,  especially,  they  would 
have  such  a  winning,  weeping,  imploring  look  with  them  as 
flesh  and  blood  could  not  bear. 

Shall  I  tell  how  I  became  a  poet  for  the  dear  girl's  sake  ? 
Tis  surely  unnecessary  after  the  reader  has  perused  the  above 
versions  of  her  poems.  Shall  I  tell  what  wild  follies  I  com- 
mitted in  prose  as  well  as  in  verse  ?  how  I  used  to  watch  under 
her  window  of  icy  evenings,  and  with  chilblainy  fingers  sing 
serenades  to  her  on  the  guitar  ?  Shall  I  tell  how,  in  a  sledging- 
party,  I  had  the  happiness  to  drive  her,  and  of  the  delightful 
privilege  which  is,  on  these  occasions,  accorded  to  the  driver  ? 

Any  reader  who  has  spent  a  winter  in  Germany  perhaps 
knows  it.  A  large  party  of  a  score  or  more  of  sledges  is 
formed.  Away  they  go  to  some  pleasure-house  that  has  been 
previously  fixed  upon,  where  a  ball  and  collation  are  prepared, 
and  where  each  man,  as  his  partner  descends,  has  the  delicious 
privilege  of  saluting  her.  O  heavens  and  earth  1  I  may  grow  to 
be  a  thousand  years  old,  but  I  can  never  forget  the  rapture  of 
that  salute. 

"The  keen  air  has  given  me  an  appetite,"  said  the  dear 
angel,  as  we  entered  the  supper-room  ;  and  to  say  the  truth, 
fairy  as  she  was,  she  made  a  remarkably  good  meal — consuming 
a  couple  of  basins  of  white  soup,  several  kinds  of  German 
sausages,  some  Westphalia  ham,  some  white  puddings,  an 
anchovy-salad  made  with  cornichons  and  onions,  sweets  in- 
numerable, and  a  considerable  quantity  of  old  Steinvvein  and 
rum-punch  afterwards.  Then  she  got  up  and  danced  as  brisk 
as  a  fairy ;  in  which  operation  I  of  course  did  not  follow  her, 
but  had  the  honor,  at  the  close  of  the  evening's  amusement,  once 
more  to  have  her  by  my  side  in  the  sledge,  as  we  swept  in  the 
moonlight  over  the  snow. 

Kalbsbraten  is  a  very  hospitable  place  as  far  as  tea-parties 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  583 

are  concerned,  but  I  never  was  in  one  where  dinners  were  so 
scarce.  At  the  palace  they  occurred  twice  or  thrice  in  a  month  ; 
but  on  these  occasions  spinsters  were  not  invited,  and  I  seldom 
had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  my  Ottilia  except  at  evening- 
parties. 

Nor  are  these,  if  the  trutli  must  be  told,  very  much  to  my 
taste.  Dancing  I  have  forsworn,  whist  is  too  severe  a  study 
for  me,  and  I  do  not  like  to  play  e'carte'  with  old  ladies,  who  are 
sure  to  cheat  you  in  the  course  of  an  evening's  play. 

But  to  have  an  occasional  glance  at  Ottilia  was  enough  ; 
and  many  and  many  a  napoleon  did  I  lose  to  her  mamma, 
Madame  de  Schlippenschlopp,  for  the  blest  privilege  of  looking 
at  her  daughter.  Many  is  the  tea-party  I  went  to,  shivering 
into  cold  clothes  after  dinner  (which  is  my  abomination)  in 
order  to  have  one  little  look  at  the  lady  of  my  soul. 

At  these  parties  there  were  generally  refreshments  of  a 
nature  more  substantial  than  mere  tea — punch,  both  milk  and 
rum,  hot  wine,  consofnme,  and  a  peculiar  and  exceedingly  dis- 
agreeable sandwich  made  of  a  mixture  of  cold  white  puddings 
and  garlic,  of  which  I  have  forgotten  the  name,  and  always 
detested  the  savor. 

Gradually  a  conviction  came  upon  me  that  Ottilia  ak  a  great 
deal. 

I  do  not  dislike  to  see  a  woman  eat  comfortably.  I  even 
think  that  an  agreeable  woman  ought  to  ho.  friaude,  and  should 
love  certain  little  dishes  and  knicknacks.  I  know  that  though 
at  dinner  they  commonly  take  nothing,  they  have  had  roast- 
mutton  with  the  children  at  two,  and  laugh  at  their  pretensions 
to  starvation. 

No  !  a  woman  who  eats  a  grain  of  rice,  like  Amina  in  the 
"Arabian  Nights,"  is  absurd  and  unnatural;  but  there  is  a 
modus  ill  rebus :  there  is  no  reason  why  she  should  be  a  ghoul, 
a  monster,  an  ogress,  a  horrid  gormandizeress — faugh  ! 

It  was,  then,  with  a  rage  amounting  almost  to  agony,  that  I 
found  Ottilia  ate  too  much  at  every  meal.  She  was  always 
eating,  and  always  eating  too  much.  If  I  went  there  in  the 
morning,  there  was  the  horrid  familiar  odor  of  those  oniony 
sandwiches  ;  if  in  the  afternoon,  dinner  had  been  just  removed, 
and  I  was  choked  by  reeking  reminiscences  of  roast-meat. 
Tea  we  have  spoken  of.  She  gobbled  up  more  cakes  than  any 
six  people  present ;  then  came  the  supper  and  the  sandwiches 
again,  and  the  egg-flip  and  the  horrible  rum-punch. 

She  was  as  thin  as  ever — paler  if  possible  than  ever : — but^ 
by  heavens  !  her  nose  began  to  grow  red ! 


584  "^^^^  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

Mon  Dieu  !  how  I  used  to  watch  and  watch  it !  Some  days 
it  was  purple,  some  days  had  more  of  the  vermilion — I  could 
take  an  affidavit  that  after  a  heavy  night's  supper  it  was  more 
swollen,  more  red  than  before. 

I  recollect  one  night  when  we  were  playing  a  round  game  (I 
had  been  looking  at  her  nose  very  eagerly  and  sadly  for  some 
time),  she  of  herself  brought  up  the  conversation  about  eating, 
and  confessed  that  she  had  five  meals  a  day. 

"  That  accounts  for  it !  "  says  I,  flinging  down  the  cards,  and 
sioringing  up  and  rushing  like  a  madman  out  of  the  room.  I 
rushed  away  into  the  night,  and  wrestled  with  my  passion. 
"  What !  Mary,"  said  I,  "  a  woman  who  eats  meat  twenty-one 
times  in  a  week,  besides  breakfast  and  tea  ?  Mary  a  sarcopha- 
gus, a  cannibal,  a  butcher's  shop  1 — Away !  "  I  strove  and 
strove.  I  drank,  I  groaned,  I  wrestled  and  fought  with  my 
love — but  it  overcame  me  :  one  look  of  those  eyes  brought  me 
to  her  feet  again.  I  yielded  myself  up  like  a  slave  ;  I  fawned 
and  whined  for  her  \  I  thought  her  nose  was  not  so  very  red. 

Things  came  to  this  pitch  that  I  sounded  his  Highness's 
Minister  to  know  whether  he  would  give  me  service  in  the 
Duchy  ;  I  thought  of  purchasing  an  estate  there.  I  was  given 
to  understand  that  I  should  get  a  chamberlain's  key  and  some 
post  of  honor  did  I  choose  to  remain,  and  I  even  wrote  home 
to  my  brother  Tom  in  England,  hinting  a  change  in  my 
condition. 

At  this  juncture  the  town  of  Hamburg  sent  his  Highness 
the  Grand  Duke  {a  propos  of  a  commercial  union  which  was 
pending  between  the  two  States)  a  singular  present :  no  less 
than  a  certain  number  of  barrels  of  oysters,  which  are  con- 
sidered extreme  luxuries  in  Germany,  especially  in  the  inland 
parts  of  the  country,  where  they  are  almost  unknown. 

In  honor  of  the  oysters  and  the  new  commercial  treaty 
(which  arrived  in  fourgons  despatched  for  the  purpose),  his 
Highness  announced  a  grand  supper  and  ball,  and  invited  all 
the  quality  of  all  the  principalities  round  about.  It  was  a 
splendid  affair :  the  grand  saloon  brilliant  with  hundreds  of 
uniforms  and  brilliant  toilettes — not  the  least  beautiful  among 
them,  I  need  not  say,  was  Ottilia. 

At  midnight  the  supper-rooms  were  thrown  open,  and  we 
formed  into  little  parties  of  six,  each  having  a  table,  nobly 
served  with  jDlate,  a  lackey  in  attendance,  and  a  gratifying  ice- 
pail  or  two  of  champagne  to  egayer  the  supper.  It  was  no 
small  cost  to  serve  five  hundred  people  on  silver,  and  the  re- 
past was  certainly  a  princely  and  magnificent  one. 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  CONFESSIONS.  585 

I  had,  of  course,  arranged  with  Mademoiselle  de  Schlippen* 
schlopp.  Captains  Frumpel  and  Fridelberger  of  the  Duke's 
Guard,  Mesdames  de  Butterbrod  and  Bopp,  formed  our  Uttle 
party. 

The  first  course,  of  course,  consisted  of  the  oysters.  OttiUa's 
eyes  gleamed  with  double  brilliancy  as  the  lackey  opened  them. 
There  were  nine  apiece  for  us  —  how  well  I  recollect  the 
number  ! 

I  never  was  much  of  an  oyster-eater,  nor  can  I  relish  them 
m  natnralibus  as  some  do,  but  require  a  quantity  of  sauces, 
lemons,  cayenne  peppers,  bread  and  butter,  and  so  forth, 'to 
render  them  palatable. 

By  the  time  I  had  made  my  preparations,  Ottilia,  the  Cap- 
tains, and  the  two  ladies,  had  wellnigh  finished  theirs.  In- 
deed Ottilia  had  gobbled  up  all  hers,  and  there  were  only  my 
nine  left  m  the  dish. 

I  took  one — it  was  bad.  The  scent  of  it  was  enough, — they 
were  all  bad.     Ottilia  had  eaten  nine  bad  oysters. 

I  put  down  the  horrid  shell.  Her  eyes  glistened  more  and 
more  ;  she  could  not  take  them  off  the  tray. 

"  Dear  Herr  George,"  she  said,  "  zvill  you  give  me  your 
oysters  ? 


# 

# 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

# 

She   had 

Robinson  ! 

* 

them 

all 
* 

down — before- 

-I 

* 

could 

say— 

* 

-Jack— 

I  left  Kalbsbraten 

that 

night. 

and  hav 

e  never  bee 

n  there 

since. 

FITZ-BOODLE'S    PROFESSIONS. 


BEING  APPEALS  TO  THE  UNEMPLOYED  YOUNGER  SONS  OP 
THE   NOBILITY. 


FIRST  PROFESSION. 


The  fair  and  honest  proposition  in  which  I  offered  to  com- 
municate privately  with  parents  and  guardians,  relative  to  two 
new  and  lucrative  professions  which  I  had  discovered,  has,  I 
find  from  the  publisher,  elicited  not  one  single  inquiry  from 
those  personages,  who  I  can't  but  think  are  very  little  careful 
of  their  children's  welfare  to  allow  such  a  chance  to  be  thrown 
away.  It  is  not  for  myself  I  speak,  as  my  conscience  proudly 
tells  me  ;  for  though  I  actually  gave  up  Ascot  in  order  to  be  in 
the  way  should  any  father  of  a  family  be  inclined  to  treat  with 
me  regarding  my  discoveries,  yet  I  am  grieved,  not  on  my  own 
account,  but  on  theirs,  and  for  the  wretched  penny-wise  policy 
that  has  held  them  back. 

That  they  must  feel  an  interest  in  my  announcement  is  un- 
questionable. Look  at  the  way  in  which  the  public  prints  of 
all  parties  have  noticed  my  appearance  in  the  character  of  a 
literary  man  !  Putting  aside  my  personal  narrative,  look  at  the 
•offer  I  made  to  the  nation, — a  choice  of  no  less  than  two  new 
professions  !  Suppose  I  had  invented  as  many  new  kinds  of 
butcher's-meat ;  does  any  one  pretend  that  the  world,  tired  as  it 
is  of  the  perpetual  recurrence  of  beef,  mutton,  veal,  cold  beef, 
cold  veal,  cold  mutton,  hashed  ditto,  would  not  have  jumj^ed 
eagerly  at  the  delightful  intelligence  that  their  old,  stale,  stupid 
meals  were  about  to  be  varied  at  last  ? 

Of  course  people  would  have  come  forward.     I  should  have 
had  deputations  from  Mr.  Gibletts  and  the  fashionable  butch 
(5S6) 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  PROFESSIONS.  587 

ers  of  this  world  ;  petitions  would  have  poured  in  from  White- 
chapel  salesmen  ;  the  speculators  panting  to  know  the  dis- 
covery ;  the  cautious  with  stock  in  hand  eager  to  bribe  me  to 
silence  and  prevent  the  certain  depreciation  of  the  goods  which 
they  already  possessed.  I  should  have  dealt  with  them,  not 
greedily  or  rapaciously,  but  on  honest  principles  of  fair  barter. 
"  Gentlemen,"  I  should  have  said,  or  rather,  "Gents  " — which 
affectionate  diminutive  is,  I  am  given  to  understand,  at  present 
much  in  use  among  commercial  persons — "  Gents,  my  re- 
searches, my  genius,  or  my  good  fortune,  have  brought  me  to 
the  valuable  discovery  about  which  you  are  come  to  treat. 
Will  you  purchase  it  outright,  or  will  you  give  the  discov- 
erer an  honest  share  of  the  profits  resulting  from  your  specu- 
lation ?  My  position  in  the  world  puts  me  out  of  the  power  of 
executing  the  vast  plan  I  have  formed,  but  'twill  be  a  certain 
fortune  to  him  who  engages  in  it ;  and  why  should  not  I,  too, 
participate  in  that  fortune  ?  " 

Such  would  have  been  my  manner  of  dealing  with  the  world, 
too,  with  regard  to  my  discovery  of  the  new  professions.  Does 
not  the  world  want  new  professions  ?  Are  there  not  thousands 
of  well-educated  men  panting,  struggling,  pushing,  starving,  in 
the  old  ones  ?  Grim  tenants  of  chambers  looking  oui  for  at- 
torneys who  never  come  ? — wretched  physicians  practising  the 
stale  joke  of  being  called  out  of  church  until  people  no  longer 
think  fit  even  to  laugh  or  to  pity  ?  Are  there  not  hoary-headed 
midshipmen,  antique  ensigns  growing  mouldy  upon  fifty  years' 
half-pay  ?  Nay,  are  there  not  men  who  would  pay  anything  to 
be  employed  rather  than  remain  idle  ?  But  such  is  the  glut  of 
professionals,  the  horrible  cutthroat  competition  among  them, 
that  there  is  no  chance  for  one  in  a  thousand,  be  he  ever  so 
willing,  or  brave,  or  clever :  in  the  great  ocean  of  life  he  makes 
a  few  strokes,  and  puffs,  and  sputters,  and  sinks,  and  the  in- 
numerable waves  overwhelm  him  and  he  is  heard  of  no  more. 

Walking  to  my  banker's  t'other  day — and  I  pledge  my 
sacred  honor  this  story  is  true — I  met  a  young  fellow  whom  I 
had  known  attache  to  an  embassy  abroad,  a  young  man  of  toler- 
able parts,  unwearied  patience,  with  some  fortune  too,  and, 
moreover,  allied  to  a  noble  Whig  family,  whose  interest  had 
procured  him  his  appointment  to  the  legation  at  Krahwinkel, 
Jivhere  I  knew  him.  He  remained  for  ten  years  a  diplomatic 
character  •  he  was  the  workingman  of  the  legation  :  he  sent 
over  the  most  diffuse  translations  of  the  German  papers  for  the 
use  of  the  Foreign  Secretary :  he  signed  passports  with  most 
astonishing  ardor ;  he  exiled  himself  for  ten   long  years  in  a 

38 


588  THE  FirZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

wretched  German  town,  dancing  attendance  at  court-balls  and 
paying  no  end  of  money  for  uniforms.  And  for  what  ?  At  the 
end  of  the  ten  years — during  which  period  of  labor  he  nevei 
received  a  single  shilling  from  the  Government  which  employed 
him  (rascally  spendthrift  of  a  Government,  vaf), — he  was 
offered  the  paid  attacheship  to  the  court  of  H.  M,  the  King  of 
the  Mosquito  Islands,  and  refused  that  appointment  a  week 
before  the  Whig  Ministry  retired.  Then  he  knew  that  there 
was  no  further  chance  for  him,  and  incontinently  quitted  the 
diplomatic  service  forever,  and  I  have  no  doubt  will  sell  his 
uniform  a  bargain.  The  Government  had  hi})i  a  bargain  cer- 
tainly ;  nor  is  he  by  any  means  the  first  person  who  has  been 
sold  at  that  price. 

Well,  my  worthy  friend  met  me  in  the  street  and  informed 
me  of  these  facts  with  a  smiling  countenance, — which  I  thought 
a  masterpiece  of  diplomacy.  Fortune  had  been  belaboring 
and  kicking  him  for  ten  whole  years,  and  here  he  was  grinning 
in  my  face  :  could  Monsieur  de  Talleyrand  have  acted  better .? 
"  I  have  given  up  diplomacy,"  said  Protocol,  quite  simply  and 
good-humoredly,  "  for  between  you  and  me,  my  good  fellow,  it's 
a  very  slow  profession  ;  sure  perhaps,  but  slow.  But  though  I 
gained  no  actual  pecuniary  remuneration  in  the  service,  I  have 
learned  all  the  languages  in  Europe,  which  will  be  invaluable 
to  me  in  my  new  profession — the  mercantile  one — in  which 
directly  I  looked  out  for  a  post  I  found  one." 

"  What !  and  a  good  pay  ?  "  said  I. 

"Why,  no;  that's  absurd,  you  know.  No  young  men, 
strangers  to  business,  are  paid  much  to  speak  of.  Besides,  I 
don't  look  to  a  paltry  clerk's  pay.  Some  day,  when  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  business  (I  shall  learn  it  in  about  seven 
years),  I  shall  go  into  a  good  house  with  my  capital  and  become 
junior  partner." 

"  And  meanwhile  .''  " 

"  Meanwhile  I  conduct  the  foreign  correspondence  of  the 
eminent  house  of  Jam,  Ram,  and  Johnson  ;  and  very  heavy  it 
is,  I  can  tell  you.  From  nine  till  six  every  day,  except  foreign 
post  days,  and  then  from  nine  till  eleven.  Dirty  dark  court  to 
sit  in  ;  snobs  to  talk  to, — great  change,  as  you  may  fancy." 

"And  you  do  all  this  for  nothing?" 

"  I  do  it  to  learn  the  business."  And  so  saying  Protocol 
gave  me  a  knowing  nod  and  went  his  way. 

Good  heavens  i  I  thought,  and  is  this  a  true  story  ?  Are 
there  hundreds  of  young  men  in  a  similar  situation  at  the 
present  day,  giving  away  the  best  years  of  their  youth  for  the 


FITZ-BOODLE  'S  PROFESSIONS.  589 

sake  of  a  mere  windy  hope  of  something  in  old  age,  and  dying 
before  they  come  to  the  goal  ?  In  seven  years  he  hopes  to  have 
a  business,  and  then  to  have  the  pleasure  of  risking  his  money  ? 
He  will  be  admitted  into  some  great  house  as  a  particular 
favor,  and  three  months  after  the  house  will  fail.  Has  it  not 
happened  to  a  thousand  of  our  acquaintance  ?  I  thought  I 
would  run  after  him  and  tell  him  about  the  new  professions 
that  I  have  invented. 

"  Oh  !  ay  !  those  you  wrote  about  in  Fraser's  Magazine. 
Egad !  George,  Necessity  makes  strange  fellows  of  us  all. 
Who  would  ever  have  thought  of  you  speliing,  much  more 
writing  .^ " 

"  Never  mind  that.  Will  you,  if  I  tell  you  of  a  new  profes- 
sion that,  with  a  little  cleverness  and  instruction  from  me,  you 
may  bring  to  a  most  successful  end — will  you,  I  say,  make  me 
a  fair  return  ?  " 

"  My  dear  creature,"  replied  young  Protocol,  "what  non- 
sense you  talk  !  I  saw  that  very  humbug  in  the  Magazine. 
You  say  you  have  made  a  great  discovery — very  good  ;  you 
puff  your  discovery — very  right ;  you  ask  money  for  it — nothing 
can  be  more  reasonable  ;  and  then  you  say  that  you  intend  to 
make  your  discovery  public  in  the  next  number  of  the  Magazine. 
Do  you  think  I  will  be  such  a  fool  as  to  give  you  money  for  a 
thing  which  I  can  have  next  month  for  nothing  ?  Good-by, 
George  my  boy  ;  the  Jiexi  discovery  you  make  I'll  tell  you  how 
to  get  a  better  price  for  it."  And  with  this  the  fellow  walked 
off,  looking  supremely  knowing  and  clever. 

This  tale  of  the  person  I  have  called  Protocol  is  not  told 
without  a  purpose,  you  may  be  sure.  In  the  first  place,  it 
shows  what  are  the  reasons  that  nobody  has  made  application 
to  me  concerning  the  new  professions,  namely,  because  I  have 
passed  my  word  to  make  them  known  in  this  Magazine,  which 
persons  may  have  for  the  purchasing,  stealing,  borrowing,  or 
hiring,  and,  therefore,  they  will  never  think  of  applying  per- 
sonally to  me.  And,  secondly,  his  story  proves  also  my  asser- 
tion, viz. :  that  all  professions  are  most  cruelly  crowded  at 
present,  and  that  men  will  make  the  most  absurd  outlay  and 
sacrifices  for  the  smallest  chance  of  success  at  some  future 
period.  Well,  then,  I  will  be  a  benefactor  to  my  race,  if  I 
cannot  be  to  one  single  member  of  it,  whom  I  love  better  than 
most  men.  What  I  have  discovered  I  will  make  known  ;  there 
shall  be  no  shilly-shallying  work  here,  no  circumlocution,  no 
bottle-conjuring  business.  But  oh !  I  wish  for  all  our  sakes 
that  I  had  an  opportunity  to  impart  the  secret  to  one  or  two 


59° 


THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 


persons  only  ;  for,  after  all,  but  one  or  two  can  live  in  the 
manner  I  would  suggest.  And  when  the  discovery  is  made 
known,  I  am  sure  ten  thousand  will  try.  The  rascals !  I 
can  see  their  brass-plates  gleaming  over  scores  of  doors.  Com- 
petition will  ruin  my  professions,  as  it  has  all  others. 

It  must  be  premised  that  the  two  professions  are  intended 
for  gentlemen,  and  gentlemen  only — men  of'birth  and  education. 
No  others  could  support  the  parts  which  they  will  be  called 
upon  to  play. 

And,  likewise,  it  must  be  honestly  confessed  that  these 
professions  have,  to  a  certain  degree,  been  exercised  before. 
Do  not  cry  out  at  this  and  say  it  is  no  discovery  !  I  say  it  is 
a  discovery.  It  is  a  discovery  if  I  show  you — a  gentleman — a 
profession  which  you  may  exercise  without  derogation,  or  loss 
of  standing,  with  certain  profit,  nay,  possibly  with  honor,  and 
of  which,  until  the  reading  of  the  present  page,  you  never 
thought  but  as  of  a  calling  beneath  your  rank  and  quite  below 
your  reach.  Sir,  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  I  create  a  profession, 
I  cannot  create  gold  ;  but  if,  when  discovered,  I  find  the  means 
of  putting  it  in  your  pocket,  do  I  or  do  I  not  deserve  credit  ? 

I  see  you  sneer  contemptuously  when  I  mention  to  you  the 
word  Auctioneer.  "  Is  this  all,"  you  say,  "  that  this  fellow 
brags  and  prates  about  ?  An  auctioneer,  forsooth !  he  might 
as  well  have  '  invented  '  chimney-sweeping  ?  " 

No  such  thing.  A  little  boy  of  seven,  be  he  ever  so  low  of 
birth,  can  do  this  as  well  as  you.  Do  you  suppose  that  little 
stolen  Master  Montague  made  a  better  sweeper  than  the  lowest- 
bred  chummy  that  yearly  commemorates  his  release  ?  No,  sir. 
And  he  might  have  been  ever  so  much  a  genius  or  a  gentleman, 
and  not  have  been  able  to  make  his  trade  respectable. 

But  all  such  trades  as  can  be  rendered  decent  the  aristocracy 
has  adopted  one  by  one.  At  first  they  followed  the  profession 
of  arms,  flouting  all  others  as  unworthy,  and  thinking  it  un- 
gentlemanlike  to  know  how  to  read  or  write.  They  did  not  go 
into  the  church  in  very  early  days,  till  the  money  to  be  got 
from  the  church  was  strong  enough  to  tempt  them.  It  is  but 
of  later  years  that  they  have  condescended  to  go  to  the  bar, 
and  since  the  same  time  only  that  we  see  some  of  them  follow- 
ing trades,  I  know  an  English  lord's  son  who  is,  or  was,  a 
wine-merchant  (he  may  have  been  a  bankrupt  for  what  I  know). 
As  for  bankers,  several  partners  in  banking-houses  have  four 
balls  to  their  coronets,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  another  sort 
of  banking,  viz.  :  that  practised  by  gentlemen  who  lend  small 
sums  of  money  upon   deposited  securities,  will   be  one   day 


FTTZ-BOODLE'S  PROFESSIONS.  rni 

followed  by  the  noble  order,  so  that  they  may  have  four  balls 
on  their  coronets  and  carriages,  and  three  in  front  of  their 
shops. 

Ves,  the  nobles  come  peoplewards  as  the  people,  on  the 
other  hand,  rise  and  mingle  with  the  nobles.  With  the  pkbs^ 
of  course,  Fitz-Boodle,  in  whose  veins  flows  the  blood  of  a 
thousand  kings,  can  have  nothing  to  do  ;  but,  watching  the 
progress  of  the  world,  'tis  impossible  to  deny  that  the  good  old 
days  of  our  race  are  passed  away.  We  want  money  still  as 
much  as  ever  we  did  ;  but  we  cannot  go  down  from  our  castles 
with  horse  and  sword  and  waylay  fat  merchants — no,  no,  coun- 
founded  new  policemen  and  the  assize-courts  prevent  that. 
Younger  brothers  cannot  be  pages  to  noble  houses,  as  of  old 
they  were,  serving  gentle  dames  without  disgrace,  handing  my 
lord's  rose-water  to  wash,  or  holding  his  stirrup  as  he  mounted 
for  the  chase,  A  page,  forsooth  3  A  pretty  figure  would 
George  Fitz-Boodle  or  any  other  man  of  fashion  cut,  in  a  jacket 
covered  with  sugar-loafed  buttons,  and  handing  in  penny-post 
notes  on  a  silver  tray,  ^Yho.  plehs  have  robbed  us  of  thai  trade 
among  others  ;  nor,  I  confess,  do  I  much  grudge  them  their 
irouv-aille.  Neither  can  we  collect  together  a  few  scores  of  free 
lances,  like  honest  Hugh  Calverly  in  the  Black  Prince's  time, 
or  brave  Harry  Butler  of  Wallenstein's  dragoons,  and  serve 
this  or  that  prince,  Peter  the  Cruel  or  Henry  of  Trastainare, 
Gustavus  or  the  Emperor,  at  ouf  leisure  ;  or,  in  default  of 
service,  fight  and  rob  on  our  own  gallant  account,  as  the  good 
gentlemen  of  old  did.  Alas  1  no.  In  South  America  or  Texas, 
perhaps,  a  man  might  have  a  chance  that  way  •  but  in  the 
ancient  world  no  man  can  fight  except  in  the  king's  service  (and 
a  mighty  bad  service  that  is  too),  and  the  lowest  European 
sovereign,  were  it  Ealdomero  Espartero  himself,  would  think 
nothing  of  seizing  the  best-born  condottiere  that  ever  drew 
sword,  and  shooting  him  down  like  the  vulgarest  deserter. 

What,  then,  is  to  be  done?  We  must  discover  fresh  fields 
of  enterprise — of  j^eaceable  and  commercial  enterprise  in  a 
peaceful  and  commercial  age.  I  say,  then,  that  the  auctioneer's 
pulpit  has  never  yet  been  ascended  by  a  scion  of  the  aristoc- 
rac}',  and  am  prepared  to  prove  that  they  might  scale  it,  and 
do  so  with  dignity  and  profit. 

For  the  auctioneer's  pulpit  is  just  the  peculiar  place  where 
a  man  of  social  refinement,  of  elegant  wit,  of  polite  perceptions, 
can  bring  his  wit,  his  eloquence,  his  taste,  and  his  experience  of 
life,  most  delightfully  into  play.  It  is  not  like  the  bar,  where 
the  better  and  higher  qualities  of  a  man  of  fashion  find  no  room 


592 


THE  FITZ-EOODLE  PAPERS. 


for  exercise.  In  defending  John  Jorrocks  in  an  action  of  tres- 
pass, for  cutting  down  a  stick  in  Sam  Snooks's  field,  what 
powers  of  mind  do  you  require  ? — powers  of  mind,  that  is, 
which  Mr,  Serjeant  Snorter,  a  butcher's  son  with  a  great  loud 
voice,  a  sizar  at  Cambridge,  a  wrangler,  and  so  forth,  does  not 
possess  as  well  as  yourself  ?  Snorter  has  never  been  in  decent 
society  in  his  life.  He  thinks  the  bar-mess  the  most  fashion- 
able assemblage  in  Europe,  and  the  jokes  of  '"grand  day  "  the 
ne  plus  ultra  of  wit.  Snorter  lives  near  Russell  Square,  eats 
beef  and  Yorkshire-pudding,  is  a  judge  of  port-wine,  is  in  all 
social  respects  your  inferior.  Well,  it  is  ten  to  one  but  in  the 
case  of  Snooks  v.  Jorrocks,  before  mentioned,  he  will  be  a 
better  advocate  than  you  ;  he  knows  the  law  of  the  case  entirely, 
and  better  probably  than  you.  He  can  speak  long,  loud,  to  the 
point,  grammatically — more  grammatically  than  you,  no  doubt^ 
will  condescend  to  do.  In  the  case  of  Snooks  t',  Jorrocks  he 
is  all  that  can  be  desired.  And  so  about  dry  disputes,  respect- 
ing real  proj>erty,  he  knows  the  law  ;  and,  beyond  this,  has  no 
more  need  to  be  a  gentleman  than  my  body-seu'ant  has — who, 
by  the  way,  from  constant  intercourse  with  the  best  society,  is 
almost  a  gentleman.     But  this  is  apart  from  the  question. 

Now,  in  the  matter  of  auctioneering,  this,  I  apprehend,  is 
not  the  case,  and  I  assert  that  a  high-bred  gentleman,  with 
good  powers  of  mind  and  speech,  must,  in  such  a  profession, 
make  a  fortune,  I  do  not  mean  in  all  auctioneering  matters. 
I  do  not  mean  that  such  a  person  should  be  called  upon  to  sell 
the  good-will  of  a  public-house,  or  discourse  about  the  value  of 
the  beer-barrels,  or  bars  with  pewter  fittings,  or  the  beauty  of  a 
trade  doing  a  stroke  of  so  manj^  hogsheads  a  w^eek,  I  do  not 
ask  a  gentleman  to  go  down  and  sell  pigs,  ploughs,  and  cart- 
horses, at  Stoke  Pogis  ;  or  to  enlarge  at  the  Auction-Rooms, 
Wapping,  upon  the  beauty  of  the  "  Lively  Sally  "  schooner. 
These  articles  of  commerce  or  use  can  be  better  appreciated  by 
persons  in  a  different  rank  of  life  to  his. 

But  there  are  a  thousand  cases  in  which  a  gentleman  only 
can  do  justice  to  the  sale  of  objects  which  the  necessity  or 
convenience  of  the  genteel  world  may  require  to  change  hands. 
All  articles  properly  called  of  taste  should  be  put  under  his 
charge.  Pictures, — he  is  a  travelled  man,  has  seen  and  judged 
the  best  galleries  of  Europe,  and  can  speak  of  them  as  a  com- 
mon person  cannot.  For,  mark  you,  you  must  have  the  con- 
fidence of  your  society,  you  must  be  able  to  be  familiar  with 
them,  to  plant  a  happy  mat  in  a  graceful  manner,  to  appeal  to 
my  lord  or  the  duchess  in  such  a  modest,  easy,  pleasant  way  as 


FITZ-BOODLE  'S  PROFESSIONS. 


593 


that  her  grace  should  not  be  hurt  by  your  aUusion  to  her — nay, 
amused  (hke  the  rest  of  the  company)  by  the  manner  in  which 
it  was  done. 

What  is  more  disgusting  than  the  famiharity  of  a  snob? 
What  more  loathsome  than  the  swaggering  quackery  of  some 
present  holders  of  the  hammer  ?  There  was  a  late  sale,  for 
instance,  which  made  some  noise  in  the  world  (I  mean  the  late 
Lord  Gimcrack's,  at  Bilberry  Hill).  Ah  !  what  an  opportunity 
was  lost  there !  I  declare  solemnly  that  I  believe,  but  for  the 
absurd  quackery  and  braggadocio  of  the  advertisements,  much 
more  money  would  have  been  bid  ;  people  were  kept  away  by 
the  vulgar  trumpeting  of  the  auctioneer,  and  could  not  help 
thinking  the  things  were  worthless  that  were  so  outrageously 
lauded. 

They  say  that  sort  of  Bartholomew-fair  advocacy  (in  which 
people  are  invited  to  an  entertainment  by  the  medium  of  a 
hoarse  yelling  beef-eater,  twenty-four  drums,  and  a  jack-pudding 
turning  head  over  heels)  is  absolutely  necessary  to  excite  the 
public  attention.  What  an  error!  I  say  that  the  refined  indi- 
vidual so  accosted  is  more  likely  to  close  his  ears,  and,  shud- 
dering, run  away  from  the  booth.  Poor  Horace  Waddlepoodle  ! 
to  think  that  thy  gentle  accumulation  of  bric-a-brac  should  have 
passed  away  in  such  a  manner!  by  means  of  a  man  who  brings 
down  a  butterfly  with  a  blunderbuss,  and  talks  of  a  pin's  head 
through  a  speaking-trumpet  !  Why,  the  auctioneer's  very  voice 
was  enough  to  crack  the  Sevres  porcelain  and  blow  the  lace 
into  annihilation.  Let  it  be  remembered  that  I  speak  of  the 
gentleman  in  his  public  character  merely,  meaning  to  insinuate 
nothing  more  than  I  would  by  stating  that  Lord  Brougham 
speaks  with  a  northern  accent,  or  that  the  voice  of  Mr.  Shell 
is  sometimes  unpleasantly  shrill. 

Now  the  character  I  have  formed  to  myself  of  a  great 
auctioneer  is  this.  I  fancy  him  a  man  of  first-rate  and  irre- 
proachable birth  and  fashion.  I  fancy  his  person  so  agreeable 
that  it  must  be  a  pleasure  for  ladies  to  behold  and  tailors  to 
dress  it.  As  a  private  man  he  must  move  in  the  very  best 
society,  which  will  flock  round  his  pulpit  when  he  mounts  it  in 
his  public  calling.  It  will  be  a  privilege  for  vulgar  people  to 
attend  the  hall  where  he  lectures  ;  and  they  will  consider  it  an 
honor  to  be  allowed  to  pay  their  money  for  articles  the  value 
of  which  is  stamped  by  his  high  recommendation.  Nor  can 
such  a  person  be  a  mere  fribble  ;  nor  can  any  loose  hanger-on 
of  fashion  imagine  he  may  assume  the  character.  The  gentle- 
man auctioneer  must  be  an  artist  above  all,  adoring  his  profes- 


gg4  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

sion  ;  and  adoring  it,  what  must  he  not  know  ?  He  must  havb 
a  good  knowledge  of  the  history  and  language  of  all  nations  \ 
not  the  knowledge  of  the  mere  critical  scholar,  but  of  the 
lively  and  elegant  man  of  the  world.  He  will  not  commit  the 
gross  blunders  of  pronunciation  that  untravelled  Englishmen 
peri  e  rate  ;  he  will  not  degrade  his  subject  by  coarse  eulogy, 
or  sicken  his  audience  with  vulgar  banter.  He  will  know 
where  to  apply  praise  and  wit  properly  ;  he  will  have  the  tact 
only  acquired  in  good  society,  and  know  where  a  joke  is  in 
place,  and  how  far  a  compliment  may  go.  He  will  not  out- 
rageously and  indiscriminately  laud  all  objects  committed  to 
his  charge,  for  he  knows  the  value  of  praise  ;  that  diamonds, 
could  we  have  them  by  the  bushel,  would  be  used  as  coals  ; 
that,  above  all,  he  has  a  character  of  sincerity  to  support ;  that 
he  is  not  merely  the  advocate  of  the  person  who  employs  him, 
but  that  the  public  is  his  client  too,  who  honors  him  and  con- 
fides in  him.  Ask  him  to  sell  a  copy  of  Raffaelle  for  an 
original ;  a  trumpery  modern  Brussels  counterfeit  for  real  old 
Mechlin  ;  some  common  French  forged  crockery  for  the  old 
delightful,  delicate,  Dresden  china ;  and  he  will  quit  you  with 
scorn,  or  order  his  servant  to  show  you  the  door  of  his  study. 

Study,  by  the  way,— no,  "  study  "  is  a  vulgar  word  :  every 
word  is  vulgar  which  a  man  uses  to  give  the  world  an  exagger- 
ated notion  of  himself  or  his  condition.  When  the  wretched 
bagman,  brought  up  to  give  evidence  before  Judge  Coltman, 
was  asked  what  his  trade  was,  and  replied  that  "  he  represented 
the  house  of  Dobson  and  Hobson,"  he  showed  himself  to  be  a 
vulgar,  mean-souled  wretch,  and  was  most  properly  reprimanded 
by  his  lordship.  To  be  a  bagman  is  to  be  humble,  but  not  of 
necessity  vulgar.  Pomposity  is  vulgar,  to  ape  a  higher  rank 
than  your  own  is  vulgar,  for  an  ensign  of  militia  to  call  himself 
captain  is  vulgar,  or  for  a  bagman  to  style  himself  the  "  repre- 
sentative "  of  Dobson  and  Hobson.  The  honest  auctioneer, 
then,  will  not  call  his  room  his  study  ;  but  his  "  private  room," 
or  his  office,  or  whatever  may  be  the  phrase  commonly  used 
among  auctioneers. 

He  will  not  for  the  same  reason  call  himself  (as  once  in  a 
momentary  feeling  of  pride  and  enthusiasm  for  the  profession 
I  thought  he  should)— he  will  not  call  himself  an  "  advocate," 
but  an  auctioneer.  There  is  no  need  to  attempt  to  awe  people 
by  big  titles  :  let  each  man  bear  his  own  name  without  shame. 
And  a  very  gentlemanlike  and  agreeable,  though  exceptional 
position  (for  it  is  clear  that  there  cannot  be  more  than  two  of 
the  class,)  may  the  auctioneer  occupy. 


FITZ-BOODLE  'S  PROFESSIONS.  595 

He  must  not  sacrifice  his  honesty,  then,  either  for  his  own 
sake  or  his  clients',  in  any  way,  nor  tell  fibs  about  himself  or 
them.  He  is  by  no  means  called  upon  to  draw  the  long  bow 
in  their  behalf;  all  that  his  office  obliges  him  to  do — and  let  us 
hope  his  disposition  will  lead  him  to  do  it  also — is  to  take  a 
favorable,  kindly,  philanthropic  view  of  the  world ;  to  say 
what  can  fairly  be  said  by  a  good-natured  and  ingenious  man 
in  praise  of  any  article  for  which  he  is  desirous  to  awaken  public 
sympathy.  And  how  readily  and  pleasantly  may  this  be  done  ! 
I  will  take  upon  myself,  for  instance,  to  write  an  eulogium  upon 
So-and-So's  last  novel,  which  shall  be  every  word  of  it  true  j 
and  which  work,  though  to  some  discontented  spirits  it  might 
appear  dull,  may  be  shown  to  be  really  amusing  and  instruct- 
ive,— nay,  is  amusing  and  instructive, — to  those  who  have  the 
art  of  discovering  where  those  precious  qualities  lie. 

An  auctioneer  should  have  the  organ  of  truth  large  ;  of  im- 
agination and  comparison,  considerable  ;  of  wit,  great ;  of  be- 
nevolence, excessively  large. 

And  how  happy  might  such  a  man  be,  and  cause  others  to 
he  !  He  should  go  through  the  world  laughing,  merry,  observ- 
ant, kind  hearted.  He  should  love  everything  in  the  world, 
because  his  profession  regards  everything.  With  books  of 
lighter  literature  (for  I  do  not  recommend  the  genteel  auc- 
tioneer to  meddle  with  heavy  antiquarian  and  philological 
works)  he  should  be  elegantly  conversant,  being  able  to  give  a 
neat  history  of  the  author,  a  pretty  sparkling  kind  criticism  of 
the  work,  and  an  appropriate  eulogium  upon  the  binding,  which 
would  make  those  people  read  who  never  read  before  ;  or 
buy  at  least,  which  is  his  first  consideration.  Of  pictures  we 
have  already  spoken.  Of  china,  of  jewelry,  of  gold-headed 
canes,  valuable  arms,  picturesque  antiquities,  with  what  elo- 
quent e7itrainement  might  he  not  speak  !  He  feels  every  one 
of  these  things  in  his  heart.  He  has  all  the  tastes  of  the 
fashionable  world.  Dr.  Meyrick  cannot  be  more  enthusiastic 
about  an  old  suit  of  armor  than  he  ;  Sir  Harris  Nicolas  not 
more  eloquent  regarding  the  gallant  times  in  which  it  was 
worn,  and  the  brave  histories  connected  with  it.  He  takes  up 
a  pearl  necklace  with  as  much  delight  as  any  beauty  who  was 
sighing  to  wear  it  round  her  own  snowy  throat,  and  hugs  a 
china  monster  with  as  much  joy  as  the  oldest  duchess  could 
do.  Nor  must  he  affect  these  things  ;  he  must  feel  them.  He 
is  a  glass  in  which  all  the  tastes  of  fashion  are  reflected.  He 
must  be  every  one  of  the  characters  to  whom  he  addresses  him- 
self— a  genteel  Gcethe  or  Shakspeare,  a  fashionable  world- 
spirit. 


596  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

How  can  a  man  be  all  this  and  not  be  a  gentleman  ;  and 
not  have  had  an  education  in  the  midst  of  the  best  company — 
an  insight  into  the  most  delicate  feelings,  and  wants,  and 
usages  ?  The  i^ulpit  oratory  of  such  a  man  would  be  invalua- 
ble ;  people  would  flock  to  listen  to  him  from  far  and  near. 
He  might  out  of  a  single  teacup  cause  streams  of  world- 
philosophy  to  flow,  which  would  be  drunk  in  by  grateful 
thousands  ;  and  draw  out  of  an  old  pincushion  points  of  wit, 
morals,  and  experience,  that  would  make  a  nation  wise. 

Look  round,  examine  the  annals  of  auctions,  as  Mr. 
Robins  remarks,  and  (with  every  respect  for  him  and  his 
brethren)  say,  is  there  in  the  profession  such  a  man  ?  Do  we 
want  such  a  man  ?  Is  such  a  man  likely  or  not  likely  to  make 
an  immense  fortune .-'  Can  we  get  such  a  man  except  out 
of  the  very  best  society,  and  among  the  most  favored  there  ? 

Everybody  answers  "  No  !  "  I  knew  you  would  answer  no. 
And  now,  gentlemen  who  have  laughed  at  my  jDretension  to  dis- 
cover a  profession,  say,  have  I  not  .-•  I  have  laid  my  finger  upon 
the  spot  where  the  social  deficit  exists.  I  have  showed  that  we 
labor  under  a  wantj  and  when  the  world  wants,  do  we  not 
know  that  a  man  will  step  forth  to  fill  the  vacant  space  that 
Fate  has  left  for  him  ?     Pass  we  now  to  the — 


SECOND  PROFESSION. 

This  profession,  too,  is  a  great,  lofty,  and  exceptional  one, 
and  discovered  by  me  considering  these  things,  and  deeply 
musing  upon  the  necessities  of  society.  Nor  let  honorable 
gentlemen  imagine  that  I  am  enabled  to  ofifer  them  in  this  pro- 
fession, more  than  any  other,  a  promise  of  what  is  called  future 
glory,  deathless  fame,  and  so  forth.  All  that  I  say  is,  that  I 
can  put  young  men  in  the  way  of  making  a  comfortable  liveli- 
hood, and  leaving  behind  them,  not  a  name,  but  what  is  better, 
a  decent  maintenance  to  their  children.  Fitz-Boodle  is  as  good 
a  name  as  any  in  England.  General  Fitz-Boodle,  who,  in  Marl- 
borough's time,  and  in  conjunction  with  the  famous  Van  Slaap, 
beat  the  French  in  the  famous  action  of  Vischzouchee,  near 
Mardyk,  in  Holland,  on  the  14th  of  February,  1709,  is  promised 
an  immortality  upon  his  tomb  in  Westminster  Abbey ;  but  he 
died  of  apoplexy,  deucedly  in  debt,  two  years  afterwards  :  and 
what  after  that  is  the  use  of  a  name  ? 

No,  no  ;  the  age  of  chivalry  is  past.  Take  the  twenty-four 
first  men  who  come  into  the  club,  and  ask  who  they  are,  and 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  PROFESSIONS. 


597 


how  they  made  their  money?  There's  Woolsey-Sackville  *  his 
father  was  Lord  Chancellor,  and  sat  on  the  woolsack,  whence 
he  took  his  title  ;  his  grandfather  dealt  in  coal-sacks,  and  not 
in  wool  sacks, — small  coal-sacks,  dribbling  out  little  supplies  of 
black  diamonds  to  the  poor.  Yonder  comes  Frank  Leveson, 
in  a  huge  broad-brimmed  hat,  his  shirt-cuffs  turned  up  to  his 
elbows.  Leveson  is  as  gentlemanly  a  fellow  as  the  world  con- 
tains, and  if  he  has  a  fault,  is  perhaps  too  finikin.  Well,  you 
fancy  him  related  to  the  Sutherland  family  :  nor,  indeed,  does 
honest  Frank  deny  it ;  but  cntre  nous,  my  good  sir,  his  father 
was  an  attorney,  and  his  grandfather  a  bailiff  in  Chancery  Lane, 
bearing  a  name  still  older  than  that  of  Leveson,  namely,  Levy. 
So  it  is  that  this  confounded  equality  grows  and  grows,  and  has 
laid  the  good  old  nobility  by  the  heels.  Look  at  that  venerable 
Sir  Charles  Kitely,  of  Kitely  Park:  he  is  interested  about  the 
Ashantees,  and  is  just  come  from  Exeter  Hall.  Kitely  dis- 
counted bills  in  the  City  in  the  year  1787,  and  gained  his 
baronetcy  by  a  loan  to  the  French  princes.  All  these  points  of 
history  are  perfectly  well  known  ;  and  do  3'OU  fancy  the  world 
cares  ?  Psha  !  Profession  is  no  disgrace  to  a  man  :  be  what 
you  like,  provided  you  succeed.  If  Mr.  Fauntleroy  could  come 
to  life  with  a  million  of  money,  you  and  I  would  dine  with  him  : 
you  know  we  would  ;  for  why  should  we  be  better  than  our 
neighbors  ? 

Put,  then,  out  of  your  head  the  idea  that  this  or  that  pro- 
fession is  unworthy  of  you :  take  any  that  ma}- bring  you  profit, 
and  thank  him  that  puts  3^ou  in  the  way  of  being  rich. 

The  profession  I  would  urge  (upon  a  person  duly  qualified 
to  undertake  it)  has,  I  confess,  at  the  first  glance,  something 
ridiculous  about  it  ;  and  will  not  appear  to  young  ladies  so 
romantic  as  the  calling  of  a  gallant  soldier,  blazing  with  glory, 
gold  lace,  and  vermilion  coats  ;  or  a  dear  delightful  clergjmian, 
with  a  sweet  blue  eye,  and  a  pocket-handkerchief  scented  charm- 
ingly with  iavender-water.  The  profession  I  allude  to  win,  I 
own,  be  to  young  women  disagreeable,  to  sober  men  trivial,  to 
great  stupid  moralists  unworthy. 

But  mark  my  words  for  it,  that  in  the  religious  world  (I  have 
once  or  twice,  by  mistake  no  doubt,  had  the  honor  of  dining  in 
"  serious  "  houses,  and  can  vouch  for  the  fact  that  the  dinners 
there  are  of  excellent  quality) — in  the  serious  world,  in  the 
great  mercantile  world,  among  the  legal  community  (notorious 
feeders),  in  every  house  in  town  (except  some  half-dozen  which 
can  afford  to  do  without  such  aid),  the  man  I  propose  might 
speedily  render  himself  indispensable. 


598  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

Does  the  reader  now  begin  to  take  ?  Have  I  hinted  enough 
for  liim  that  he  may  see  with  eagle  glance  the  immense  beauty 
of  the  profession  I  am  about  to  unfold  to  him  ?  We  have  all 
seen  Gunter  and  Chevet ;  Fregoso,  on  the  Puerta  del  Sol  (a 
relation  of  the  ex-Minister  Calomarde),  is  a  good  purveyor 
enough  for  the  benighted  olla-eaters  of  Madrid  ;  nor  have  I  any 
fault  to  find  with  Guimard,  a  Frenchman,  who  has  lately  set  up 
in  the  Toledo,  at  Naples,  where  he  fumishes  people  with  decent 
food.  It  has  given  me  pleasure,  too,  in  walking  about  London 
— in  the  Strand,  in  Oxford  Street,  and  elsewhere,  to  see  four- 
nisseurs  and  comestible  merchants  newly  set  up.  Messrs. 
Morell  have  excellent  articles  in  their  warehouses ;  Fortnum 
and  Mason  are  known  to  most  of  my  readers. 

But  what  is  not  known,  what  is  wanted,  what  is  languished 
for  in  England  is  a  dinner-master^ — a  gentleman  who  is  not  a 
provider  of  meat  or  wine,  like  the  parties  before  named,  who 
can  have  no  earthly  interest  in  the  price  of  truffled  turkeys  or 
dry  champagne  beyond  that  legitimate  interest  which  he  may 
feel  for  his  client,  and  which  leads  him  to  see  that  the  latter  is 
not  cheated  by  his  tradesmen.  For  the  dinner-giver  is  almost 
naturally  an  ignorant  man.  How  in  mercy's  name  can  Mr. 
Serjeant  Snorter,  who  is  all  day  at  Westminster,  or  in  chambers, 
know  possibly  the  mysteries,  the  delicacy,  of  dinner-giving  ? 
How  can  Alderman  Pogson  know  anything  beyond  the  fact 
that  venison  is  good  with  currant-jelly,  and  that  he  likes  lots  of 
green  fat  with  his  turtle  .-•  Snorter  knows  law,  Pogson  is 
acquainted  with  the  state  of  the  tallow-market ;  but  what  should 
he  know  of  eating,  like  you  and  me,  wiio  have  given  up  our 
time  to  it  .>  (I  say  me  only  familiarly,  for  I  have  only  reached 
so  far  in  the  science  as  to  know  that  I  know  nothing.)  But 
men  there  are,  gifted  individuals,  who  have  spent  years  of  deep 
thought — ^not  merely  intervals  of  labor,  but  hours  of  study  every 
day — over  the  gormandizing  science, — who,  like  alchemists, 
have  let  their  fortunes  go,  guinea  by  guinea,  into  the  all-devour- 
ing pot, — ^who,  ruined  as  they  sometimes  are,  never  get  a  guinea 
by  chance  but  they  will  Iiave  a  plate  of  pease  in  May  with  it, 
or  a  little  feast  of  ortolans,  or  a  piece  of  Glo'ster  salmon,  or 
one  more  flask  from  their  favorite  claret-bin. 

It  is  not  the  ruined  gastronomist  that  I  would  advise  a  per- 
son to  select  as  his  table-master ;  for  the  opportunities  of  pecula- 
tion would  be  too  great  in  a  position  of  such  confidence — such 
complete  abandonment  of  one  man  to  another.  A  ruined  man 
would  be  making  bargains  with  the  tradesmen.  They  would 
offer  to  cash  bills  for  him,  or  send  him  opportune  presents  of 


FITZ-BOODLE  'S  PROFESSIONS.  599 

wine,  which  he  could  convert  into  money,  or  bribe  him  in  one 
way  or  another.  Let  this  be  done,  and  the  profession  of  table- 
master  is  ruined.  Snorter  and  Pogson  may  ahnost  as  well 
order  their  own  dinners,  as  be  at  the  mercy  of  a  "  gastronomic 
agent "  whose  faith  is  not  beyond  all  question. 

A  vulgar  mind,  in  reply  to  these  remarks  regarding  the 
gastronomic  ignorance  of  Snorter  and  Pogson,  might  say, 
"  True,  these  gentlemen  know  nothing  of  household  economy, 
being  occupied  with  other  more  important  business  elsewhere. 
But  what  are  their  wives  about  ?  Lady  Pogson  in  Harley  Street 
has  nothing  earthly  to  do  but  to  mind  her  poodle,  and  her  man- 
tua-maker's  and  housekeeper's  bills.  Mrs.  Snorter  in  Bedford 
Place,  when  she  has  taken  her  drive  in  the  Park  with  the  young 
ladies,  may  surely  have  time  to  attend  to  her  husband's  guests  and 
preside  over  the  preparations  of  his  kitchen,  as  she  does  wor- 
thily at  his  hospitable  mahogany."  To  this  I  answer,  that  a  man 
who  expects  a  woman  to  understand  the  philosophy  of  dinner- 
giving,  shows  the  strongest  evidence  of  a  low  muid.  He  is 
unjust  towards  that  lovely  and  delicate  creature,  woman,  to 
suppose  that  she  heartily  understands  and  cares  for  what  she 
eats  and  drinks.  No  ;  taken  as  a  rule,  women  have  no  real 
appetites.  They  are  children  in  the  gormandizing  way  ;  loving 
sugar,  sops,  tarts,  trifles,  apricot-creams,  and  such  gewgaws. 
They  would  take  a  sip  of  Malmsey,  and  would  drink  currant- 
wine  just  as  happily,  if  that  accursed  liquor  was  presented  to 
them  by  the  butler.  Did  you  ever  know  a  woman  who  could 
lay  her  fair  hand  upon  her  gentle  heart  and  say  on  her  con- 
science that  she  preferred  dry  sillery  to  sparkling  champagne  ? 
Such  a  phenomenon  does  not  exist.  They  are  not  made  for 
eating  and  drinking ;  or,  if  they  make  a  pretence  to  it,  become 
downright  odious.  Nor  can  they,  I  am  sure,  witness  the  prep- 
arations of  a  really  great  repast  without  a  certain  jealousy. 
They  grudge  spending  money  (ask  guards,  coachmen,  inn- 
waiters,  whether  this  be  not  the  case).  They  will  give  their  all, 
heaven  bless  them  !  to  serve  a  son,  a  grandson,  or  a  dear  rela- 
tive, but  they  have  not  the  heart  to  pay  for  small  things  magnif- 
icently. They  are  jealous  of  good  dinners,  and  no  wonder.  I 
have  shown  in  a  former  discourse  how  they  are  jealous  of  smo- 
king, and  other  personal  enjoyments  of  the  male.  I  say,  then, 
that  Lady  Pogson  or  Mrs.  Snorter  can  never  conduct  their  hus- 
bands' table  properly.  Fancy  either  of  them  consenting  to 
allow  a  calf  to  be  stewed  down  into  gravy  for  one  dish,  or  a 
dozen  hares  to  be  sacrificed  to  a  single  puree  of  game,  or  the 
best  Madeira  to  be  used  for  a  sauce,  or  a  half  a  dozen  cham^ 


Coo  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

pagne  to  boil  a  ham  in.  They  will  be  for  bringing  a  bottle  ot 
Marsala  in  place  of  the  old  particular,  or  for  having  the  ham 
cooked  in  water.  But  of  these  matters — of  kitchen  philosophy 
— I  have  no  practical  or  theoretic  knowledge  ;  and  must  beg 
pardon  if,  only  understanding  the  goodness  of  a  dish  when 
cooked,  I  may  have  unconsciously  made  some  blunder  regard- 
ing the  prejDaration. 

Let  it,  then,  be  set  down  as  an  axiom,  without  further 
trouble  of  demonstration,  that  a  woman  is  a  bad  dinner-caterer  ; 
either  too  great  and  simple  for  it,  or  too  mean — I  don't  know 
which  it  is  ;  and  gentlemen,  according  as  they  admire  or  con- 
temn the  sex,  may  settle  that  matter  their  own  way.  In  brief, 
the  mental  constitution  of  lovely  woman  is  such  that  she  can- 
not give  a  great  dinner.  It  must  be  done  by  man.  It  can't 
be  done  by  an  ordinary  man,  because  he  does  not  understand 
it.  Vain  fool  !  and  he  sends  off  to  the  pastry-cook  in  Great 
Russell  Street  or  Baker  Street,  he  lays  on  a  couple  of  extra 
waiters  (green-grocers  in  the  neighborhood),  he  makes  a  great 
pother  with  his  butler  in  the  cellar,  and  fancies  he  has  done  the 
business. 

Bon  Dieii !  Who  has  not  been  at  those  dinners  ? — those 
monstrous  exhibitions  of  the  pastry-cook's  art .''  Who  does  not 
know  those  made  dishes  with  the  universal  sauce  to  each  : 
fricandeaux,  sweetbreads,  damp  dumpy  cutlets,  &c.,  seasoned 
with  the  compound  of  grease,  onions,  bad  port-wine,  cayenne 
pepper,  curry-powder  (Warren's  blacking,  for  what  I  know,  but 
the  taste  is  always  the  same) — there  they  lie  in  the  old  corner 
dishes,  the  poor  wiry  Moselle  and  sparkling  Burgundy  in  the 
ice-coolers,  and  the  old  story  of  white  and  brown  soup,  turbot, 
little  smelts,  boiled  turke}',  saddle-of-mutton,  and  so  forth  ? 
"Try  a  little  of  that  fricandeau,"  says  Mrs.  Snorter,  with  a  kind 
smile.  "  You'll  find  it,  I  think,  very  nice."  Be  sure  it  has 
come  in  a  green  tray  from  Great  Russell  Street.  "  Mr.  Fitz- 
Boodle,  you  have  been  in  Germany,"  cries  Snorter,  knowingly; 
"  taste  the  hock,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  thatT 

How  should  he  know  better,  poor  benighted  creature  ;  or 
she,  dear  good  soul  that  she  is  ?  If  they  would  have  a  leg  of 
mutton  and  an  apple-pudding,  and  a  glass  of  sherry  and  port 
(or  simple  brandy-and-water  called  by  its  own  name)  after  din- 
ner, all  would  be  very  well ;  but  they  must  shine,  they  must 
dine  as  their  neighbors.  There  is  no  difference  in  the  style  of 
dinners  in  London  ;  people  with  five  hundred  a  year  treat  you 
exactly  as  those  of  five  thousand.  They  will  have  their  Mo- 
selle or  hock,  their  fatal  side-dishes  brought  in  the  green  trays 
from  the  pastry-cook's. 


FITZ-BOODLE  'S  PROFESSIONS.  6ot 

Well,  there  is  no  harm  done  ;  not  as  regards  the  diamer- 
givers  at  least,  though  the  dinner-eaters  may  have  to  suffer 
somewhat ;  it  only  shows  that  the  former  are  hospitably  inclined, 
and  wish  to  do  the  very  best  in  their  power, — good  honest 
fellows  !  If  they  do  wrong,  how  can  they  help  it  ?  they  know 
no  better. 

And  now,  is  it  not  as  clear  as  the  sun  at  noon-day,  that  a  want 
exists  in  London  for  a  superintendent  of  the  table — a  gastro- 
nomic agent — a  dinner-master,  as  I  have  called  him  before  ? 
A  man  of  such  a  profession  would  be  a  metropolitan  benefit ; 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  people  of  the  respectable  sort,  people 
in  white  waistcoats,  would  thank  him  daily.  Calculate  how 
many  dinners  are  given  in  the  City  of  London,  and  calculate 
the  numbers  of  benedictions  that  "  the  Agency  "  might  win. 

And  as  no  doubt  the  observant  man  of  the  world  has 
remarked  that  the  freeborn  Englishman  of  the  respectable  class 
is,  of  all  others,  the  most  slavish  and  truckling  to  a  lord ;  that 
there  is  no  flv-blown  peer  but  he  is  pleased  to  have  him  at  his 
table,  proud  beyond  measure  to  call  him  by  his  surname  (with- 
out the  lordly  prefix)  ;  and  that  those  lords  whom  he  does  not 
know,  he  yet  (the  freeborn  Englishman)  takes  care  to  have 
their  pedigrees  and  ages  by  heart  from  his  world-bible,  the 
"  Peerage  :  "  as  this  is  an  indisputable  fact,  and  as  it  is  in  this 
particular  class  of  Britons  that  our  agent  must  look  to  find 
clients,  I  need  not  say  it  is  necessary  that  the  agent  should  be 
as  high-born  as  possible,  and  that  he  should  be  able  to  tack, 
if  possible,  an  honorable  or  some  other  handle  to  his  respect- 
able name.     He  must  have  it  on  his  professional  card — • 


Vs}t  fiouorafalc  (SStorge  (©nrmanb'  (iobbkton, 

Apician  Chanibcrs,  Pall  Mall. 


Or, 


^ir  Augustus  ^xvMx  Crantkg  ^ramkjr, 

Amphitryojiic  Council  Office,  Swallow  Street. 


or,  in  some  such  neat  way,  Gothic  letters  on  a  large  handsome 
crockeryware  card,  with  possibly  a  gilt  coat-of-arms  and  sup- 


6o2  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

porters,  or  the  blood-red  hand  of  baronetcy  duly  displayed. 
De^Dcnd  on  it  plenty  of  guineas  will  fall  in  it,  and  that  Gobble- 
ton's  supporters  will  support  him  comfortably  enough. 

For  this  profession  is  not  like  that  of  the  auctioneer,  which 
I  take  to  be  a  far  more  noble  one,  because  more  varied  and 
more  truthful ;  but  in  the  Agency  case,  a  little  humbug  at  least 
is  necessary.  A  man  cannot  be  a  successful  agent  by  the  mere 
force  of  his  simple  merit  or  genius  in  eating  and  drinking.  He 
must  of  necessity  impose  upon  the  vulgar  to  a  certain  degree. 
He  must  be  of  that  rank  which  will  lead  them  naturally  to 
respect  him,  otherwise  they  might  be  led  to  jeer  at  his  profes- 
sion ;  but  let  a  noble  exercise  it,  and  bless  your  soul,  all  the 
"  Court  Guide  "  is  dumb  ! 

He  will  then  give  out  in  a  manly  and  somewhat  pompous 
address  what  has  before  been  mentioned,  namely,  that  he  has 
seen  the  fatal  way  in  which  the  hospitality  of  England  has  been 
perverted  hitherto,  acaipared  by  a  few  cooks  with  green  trays. 
(He  must  use  a  good  deal  of  French  in  his  language,  for  that 
is  considered  very  gentlemanlike  by  vulgar  people.)  He  will 
take  a  set  of  chambers  in  Carlton  Gardens,  which  will  be  richly 
though  severely  furnished,  and  the  door  of  which  will  be  opened 
by  a  French  valet  (he  juusi  be  a  Frenchman,  remember),  who 
will  say,  on  letting  Mr.  Snorter  or  Sir  Benjamin  Pogson  in, 
that  "  Milor  is  at  home."  Pogson  will  then  be  shown  into  a 
library  furnished  with  massive  book-cases,  containing  all  the 
works  on  cookery  and  wines  (the  titles  of  them)  in  all  the  known 
languages  in  the  world.  Any  books,  of  course,  will  do,  as  you 
will  have  them  handsomely  bound,  and  keep  them  under  plate- 
glass.  On  a  side-table  will  be  little  sample-bottles  of  wines, 
a  few  truffles  on  a  white  porcelain  saucer,  a  prodigious  straw- 
berry or  two,  perhaps,  at  the  time  when  such  fruit  costs  much 
money.  On  the  library  will  be  busts  marked  Ude,  Careme, 
Be'chamel,  in  marble  (never  mind  what  heads,  of  course)  ;  and, 
perhaps,  on  the  clock  should  be  a  figure  of  the  Prince  of 
Conde's  cook  killing  himself  because  the  fish  had  not  arrived 
in  time  :  there  may  be  a  wreath  of  immortelles  on  the  figure  to 
give  it  a  more  decidedly  Frenchified  air.  The  walls  will  be  of 
a  dark  rich  paper,  hung  round  with  neat  gilt  frames,  containing 
plans  of  menus  of  various  great  dinners,  those  of  Cambaceres, 
Napoleon,  Louis  XIV.,  Louis  XVIIL,  Heliogabalus  if  you  like, 
each  signed  by  the  respective  cook. 

After  the  stranger  has  looked  about  him  at  these  things, 
which  he  does  not  understand  in  the  least,  especially  the  truf- 
fles, which  look  like  dirty  potatoes,  you  will  make  your  appear- 


FITZ-BOODLE  'S  PROFESSIONS.  603 

ance,  dressed  in  a  dark  dress,  with  one  handsome  enormous 
gold  chain,  and  one  hirge  diamond  ring  ;  a  gold  snuff-box,  of 
course,  which  you  will  thrust  into  the  visitor's  paw  before  say- 
ing a  word.  You  will  be  yourself  a  portly  grave  man,  with 
your  hair  a  little  bald  and  gray.  In  fact,  in  this,  as  in  all 
other  professions,  you  had  best  try  to  look  as  like  Canning  as 
you  can. 

When  Pogson  has  done  sneezing  with  the  snuff,  you  will 
say  to  him,  "  Take  a./auh'ui/.  I  have  the  honor  of  addressing 
Sir  IJenjamin  Pogson,  I  believe  .''  "  And  then  you  will  explain 
to  him  your  system. 

This,  of  course,  must  vary  with  every  person  you  address. 
But  let  us  lay  down  a  few  of  the  heads  of  a  plan  which  may  be 
useful,  or  may  be  modified  infinitely,  or  may  be  cast  aside 
altogether,  just  as  circumstances  dictate.  After  all  /  am  not 
going  to  turn  gastronomic  agent,  and  speak  only  for  the  benefit 
perhaps  of  the  very  person  who  is  reading  this  : — 

"synopsis  of  the  gastronomic  agency  of  the  honorable 

GEORGE    GOBBLETON. 

"  The  Gastronomic  Agent  having  traversed  Europe,  and 
dined  with  the  best  society  of  the  world,  has  been  led  naturally, 
as  a  patriot,  to  turn  his  thoughts  homeward,  and  cannot  but 
deplore  the  lamentable  ignorance  regarding  gastronomy  dis- 
played in  a  country  for  which  Nature  has  done  almost  every- 
thing. 

"  But  it  is  ever  singularly  thus.  Inherent  ignorance  belongs 
to  man  ;  and  The  Agent,  in  his  Continental  travels,  has  always 
remarked,  that  the  countries  most  fertile  in  themselves  were 
invariably  worse  tilled  than  those  more  barren.  The  Italians 
and  the  Spaniards  leave  their  fields  to  Nature,  as  we  leave  our 
vegetables,  fish,  and  meat.  And,  heavens  1  what  richness  do 
we  fling  away, — what  dormant  qualities  in  our  dishes  do  we 
disregard, —  what  glorious  gastronomic  crops  (if  The  Agent 
may  be  permitted  the  expression) — what  glorious  gastronomic 
crops  do  we  sacrifice,  allowing  our  goodly  meats  and  fishes  to 
lie  fallow  !  '  Chance,'  it  is  said  by  an  ingenious  historian,  who, 
having  been  long  a  secretary  in  the  East  India  House,  must 
certainly  have  had  access  to  the  best  information  upon  Eastern 
matters, — 'Chance,'  it  is  said  by  Mr.  Charles  Lamb,  'which 
burnt  down  a  Chinaman's  house,  with  a  litter  of  sucking-pigs 
that  were  unable  to  escape  from  the  interior,  discovered  to  the 
world  the  excellence  of  loast  pig.'     Gunpowder,  we  know,  was 

39 


6o4  "^^^  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

invented  by  a  similar  fortuity."  [The  reader  will  observe  thai 
my  style  in  the  supposed  character  of  a  Gastronomic  Agent  is 
purposely  pompous  and  loud.]  "  So,  'tis  said,  was  printing,— 
so  glass. — We  should  have  drunk  our  wine  poisoned  with  the 
villanous  odor  of  the  borachio,  had  not  some  Eastern  mer- 
chants, lighting  their  fires  in  the  Desert,  marked  the  strange 
composition  which  now  glitters  on  our  sideboards,  and  holds 
the  costly  produce  of  our  vines. 

"  We  have  spoken  of  the  natural  riches  of  a  country.  Let 
the  reader  think  but  for  one  moment  of  the  gastronomic  wealth 
of  our  country  of  England,  and  he  will  be  lost  in  thankful 
amazement  as  he  watches  the  astonishing  riches  poured  out 
upon  us  from  Nature's  bounteous  cornucopia  !  Look  at  our 
fisheries !  —  the  trout  and  salmon  tossing  in  our  brawling 
streams  ;  the  white  and  full-breasted  turbot  struggling  in  the 
mariner's  net ;  the  purple  lobster  lured  by  hopes  of  greed  into 
his  basket-prison,  which  he  quits  only  for  the  red  ordeal  of  the 
pot.  Look  at  whitebait,  great  heavens  ! — look  at  whitebait, 
and  a  thousand  frisking,  glittering,  silvery  things  besides,  which 
the  nymphs  of  our  native  streams  bear  kindly  to  the  deities  of 
our  kitchens — our  kitchens  such  as  they  are. 

"  And  though  it  may  be  said  that  other  countries  produce 
the  freckle-backed  salmon  and  the  dark  broad-shouldered  tur- 
bot ;  though  trout  frequent  many  a  stream  besides  those  of 
England,  and  lobsters  sprawl  on  other  sands  than  ours  ;  yet, 
let  it  be  remembered,  that  our  native  country  possesses  these 
altogether,  while  other  lands  only  know  them  separately;  that, 
above  all,  whitebait  is  peculiarly  our  country's — our  city's  own  ! 
Blessings  and  eternal  praises  be  on  it,  and,  of  course,  on  brown 
bread  and  butter !  And  the  Briton  should  further  remember, 
with  honest  pride  and  thankfulness,  the  situation  of  his  capital, 
of  London  :  the  lordly  turtle  floats  from  the  sea  into  the  stream, 
and  from  the  stream  to  the  city  ;  the  rapid  fleets  of  all  the 
world  se  donnent  rendezvous  in  the  docks  of  our  silvery  Thames  ; 
the  produce  of  our  coasts  and  provincial  cities,  east  and  west, 
is  borne  to  us  on  the  swift  lines  of  lightning  railroads.  In  a 
word — ^nd  no  man  but  one  who,  like  The  Agent,  has  travelled 
Europe  over,  can  appreciate  the  gift — there  is  no  city  on  earth's 
surface  so  well  supplied  with  fish  ds  London  ! 

"  With  respect  to  our  meats,  all  praise  is  supererogatory. 
Ask  the  wretched  hunter  of  chevreiiil,  the  poor  devourer  of 
rehbraten,  what  they  think  of  the  noble  English  haunch,  that, 
after  bounding  in  the  Park  of  Knole  or  Windsor,  exposes  its 
magnificent  flank  upon  some  broad  silver  platter  at  our  tables.' 


FITZ-BOODLE  'S  PROFESSIONS.  605 

It  is  enough  to  say  of  foreign  venison,  \\\2X  they  are  obliged  to 
lard  it.  Away  !  ours  is  tlie  palm  of  roast ;  whether  of  the  crisp 
mutton  that  crops  the  thymy  herbage  of  our  downs,  or  the 
noble  ox  who  revels  on  lush  Althorpian  oil-cakes.  What  game 
is  like  to  ours  ?  Mans  excels  us  in  poultry,  'tis  true  ;  but  'tis 
only  in  merry  England  that  the  partridge  has  a  flavor,  that  the 
turkey  can  almost  se passer  de  trujfes,  that  the  jolly  juicy  goose 
can  be  eaten  as  he  deserves. 

"  Our  vegetables,  moreover,  surpass  all  comment  ;  Art  (by 
the  means  of  glass)  has  wrung  fruit  out  of  the  bosom  of  Nature, 
such  as  she  grants  to  no  other  clime.  And  if  we  have  no 
vineyards  on  our  hills,  we  have  gold  to  purchase  their  best 
produce.  Nature,  and  enterprise  that  masters  Nature,  have 
done  everything  for  our  land. 

•'  But,  with  all  these  prodigious  riches  in  our  power,  is  it 
not  painful  to  reflect  how  absurdly  we  employ  them  ?  Can  we 
say  that  we  are  in  the  habit  of  dining  well .''  Alas  !  no  !  and 
The  Agent,  roaming  o'er  foreign  lands,  and  seeing  how,  with  small 
means  and  great  ingenuity  and  perseverance,  great  ends  were 
effected,  comes  back  sadly  to  his  own  country,  whose  wealth  he 
sees  absurdly  wasted,  whose  energies  are  misdirected,  and 
whose  vast  capabilities  are  allowed  to  lie  idle.  *  *  *  " 
[Here  should  follow  what  I  have  only  hinted  at  previously,  a 
vivid  and  terrible  picture  of  the  degradation  of  our  table.] 
«'*  =*  *  Qj^^  fQj.  ^  master  spirit,  to  give  an  impetus  to  the 
land,  to  see  its  great  power  directed  in  the  right  way,  and  its 
wealth  not  squandered  or  hidden,  but  nobly  put  out  to  interest 
and  spent  ! 

"The  Agent  dares  not  hope  to  win  that  proud  station — to 
be  the  destroyer  of  a  barbarous  system  wallowing  in  abusive 
prodigality — to  become  a  dietetic  reformer — the  Luther  of  the 
table. 

"  But  convinced  of  the  wrongs  which  exist,  he  will  do  his 
humble  endeavor  to  set  them  right,  and  to  those  who  know  that 
they  are  ignorant  (and  this  is  a  vast  step  to  knowledge)  he 
offers  his  counsels,  his  active  co-operation,  his  frank  and  kindly 
sympathy.     The  Agent's  qualifications  are  these  : — 

"  I.  He  is  of  one  of  the  best  families  in  England  ;  and  has 
in  himself,  or  through  his  ancestors,  been  accustomed  to  good 
living  for  centuries.  In  the  reign  of  Henry  V.,  his  maternal 
great-great-grandfather,  Roger  De  Gobylton  "  [t/ie  name  may  be 
varied,  of  course,  or  the  kings  reig/i,  or  the  dish  invented\  "  was 
the  first  who  discovered  the  method  of  roasting  a  peacock 
whole,  with  his  tail-feathers  displayed;  and  the  dish  was  served 


6o6  THE  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

to  the  two  kings  at  Rouen.  Sir  Walter  Cramley,  in  Elizabeth's 
reign,  produced  before  her  Majesty,  when  at  Killingworth 
Castle,  mackerel  with  the  famous  gooseberry  sauee,  &c. 

"  2.  He  has,  through  life,  devoted  himself  Jo  no  other  study 
than  that  of  the  table  :  and  has  visited  to  that  end  the  courts 
of  all  the  monarchs  of  Europe  :  taking  the  receipts  of  the  cooks, 
with  whom  he  lives  on  terms  of  intimate  friendship,  often  at 
enormous  expense  to  himself. 

"  3.  He  has  the  same  acquaintance  with  all  the  vintages  of  the 
Continent ;  havinji':  passed  the  autumn  of  181 1  (the  comet  year) 
on  the  great  Weinberg  of  Johannisberg ;  being  employed  sim- 
ilarly at  Bordeaux,  in  1834;  at  Oporto,  in  1820;  and  at  Xeres 
de  la  Frontera,  with  his  excellent  friends.  Duff,  Gordon  and 
Co.,  the  year  after.  He  travelled  to  India  and  back  in  com- 
pany with  fourteen  pipes  of  Madeira  (on  board  of  the  '  Samuel 
Snob '  East  Indiaman,  Captain  Scuttler),  and  spent  the  vin- 
tage season  in  the  island,  with  unlimited  powers  of  observation 
granted  to  him  by  the  great  houses  there. 

"  4.  He  has  attended  Mr.  Groves  of  Charing  Cross,  and 
Mr.  Giblett  of  Bond  Street,  in  a  course  of  purchases  of  fish  and 
meat ;  and  is  able  at  a  glance  to  recognize  the  age  of  mutton, 
the  primeness  of  beef,  the  firmness  and  freshness  of  fish  of  all 
kinds. 

"  5.  He  has  visited  the  parks,  the  grouse-manors,  and  the 
principal  gardens  of  England,  in  a  similar  professional  point  of 
view." 

The  Agent  then,  through  his  subordinates,  engages  to  pro- 
vide gentlemen  who  are  about  to  give  dinner-parties — 

"  I.  With  cooks  to  dress  the  dinners  ;  a  list  of  which  gen- 
tlemen he  has  by  him,  and  will  recommend  none  who  are  not 
worthy  of  the  strictest  confidence. 

"  2.  With  a  menu  for  the  table,  according  to  the  price  which 
the  Amphitryon  chooses  to  incur. 

"  3.  He  will,  through  correspondence  with  the  various 
fournisseurs  of  the  metropolis,  provide  them  with  viands,  fruit, 
wine,  &c.,  sending  to  Paris,  if  need  be,  where  he  has  a  regular 
correspondence  with  Messrs.  Chevet. 

"  4.  He  has  a  list  of  dexterous  table-waiters  (all  answering 
to  name  of  John  for  fear  of  mistakes,  the  butler's  name  to  be 
settled  according  to  pleasure),  and  would  strongly  recommend 
that  the  servants  of  the  house  should  be  locked  in  the  back 
kitchen  or  servants'  hall  during  the  time  the  dinner  takes 
place. 


FITZ-BOODLE  'S  PROFESSIONS.  607 

"  5.  He  will  receive  and  examine  all  the  accounts  of  the 
fournisseurs, — of  course  pledging  his  honor  as  a  gentleman  not 
to  receive  one  shilling  of  paltry  gratification  from  the  trades- 
men he  employs,  but  to  see  the  bills  are  more  moderate,  and 
their  goods  of  better  quality  than  they  would  provide  to  any 
of  less  experience  than  himself. 

"  6.  His  fee  for  superintending  a  dinner  will  be  five  guineas  : 
and  The  Agent  entreats  his  clients  to  trust  entirely  to  him  and 
his  subordinates  for  the  arrangement  of  the  repast, — not  to  think 
of  inserting  dishes  of  their  own  invention,  or  producing  wine 
from  their  own  cellars,  as  he  engages  to  have  it  brought  in  the 
best  order,  and  fit  for  immediate  drinking.  Should  the  Am- 
phitryon, however,  desire  some  particular  dish  or  wine,  he  must 
consult  The  Agent,  in  the  first  case  by  writing,  in  the  second, 
by  sending  a  sample  to  the  Agent's  chambers.  For  it  is  mani- 
fest that  the  whole  complexion  of  a  dinner  may  be  altered  by 
the  insertion  of  a  single  dish ;  and,  therefore,  parties  will  do 
well  to  mention  their  wishes  on  the  first  interview  with  the 
Agent.  He  cannot  be  called  upon  to  recompose  his  bill  of  fare, 
except  at  great  risk  to  the  ensemble  of  the  dinner  and  enormous 
inconvenience  to  himself. 

"  7.  The  Agent  will  be  at  home  for  consultation  from  ten 
o'clock  until  two — earlier,  if  gentlemen  who  are  engaged  at 
early  hours  in  the  City  desire  to  have  an  interview  :  and  be  it 
remembered,  rhat  2,  personal  interview  is  always  the  best:  for  it 
is  greatly  necessary  to  know  not  only  the  number  but  the  char- 
acter of  the  guests  whom  the  Amphitryon  proposes  to  entertain, 
— whether  they  are  fond  of  any  particular  wine  or  dish,  what 
is  their  state  of  health,  rank,  style,  profession,  &c. 

"  8.  At  two  o'clock,  he  will  commence  his  rounds  ;  for  as 
the  metropolis  is  wide,  it  is  clear  that  he  must  be  early  in  the 
field  in  some  districts.  From  2  to  3  he  will  be  in  Russell 
Square  and  the  neighborhood  ;  3  to  3^,  Harley  Street,  Port- 
land Place,  Cavendish  Square,  and  environs ;  3^  to  \%,  Port- 
man  Square,  Gloucester  Place,  Baker  Street,  &c.,  a,%  to  5,  the 
new  district  about  Hyde  Park  Terrace  ;  5  to  5  ^,  St.  John's  Wood 
and  the  Regent's  Park.  He  will  be  in  Grosvenor  Square  by  6, 
and  in  Belgrave  Square,  Pimlico,  and  its  vicinity,  by  7.  Parties 
there  are  requested  not  to  dine  until  8  o'clock  ;  and  The 
Agent,  once  for  all,  peremptorily  announces  that  he  will  not 
go  to  the  palace,  where  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  serve  a  good 
dinner." 


6o8  THE  FTTZ-BOODLE  PAPERS. 

"to  tradesmen. 

"  Every  Monday  evening  during  the  season  the  Gastro- 
nomic Agent  proposes  to  give  a  series  of  trial-dinners,  to  which 
the  principal  gourmands  of  the  metropolis,  and  a  few  of  The 
Agent's  most  respectable  clients,  will  be  invited.  Covers  will 
be  laid  for  ten  at  nine  o'clock  precisely.  And  as  The  Agent 
does  not  propose  to  exact  a  single  shilling  of  profit  from  their 
bills,  and  as  his  recommendation  will  be  of  infinite  value  to 
them,  the  tradesmen  he  employs  will  furnish  the  weekly  dinner 
gratis.  Cooks  will  attend  (who  have  acknowledged  characters) 
upon  the  same  terms.  To  save  trouble,  a  book  will  be  kept 
where  butchers,  poulterers,  fishmongers,  &c.,  may  inscribe  their 
names  in  order,  taking  it  by  turns  to  supply  the  trial-table. 
Wine-merchants  will  naturally  compete  ever}-  week  promis- 
cuously, sending  what  they  consider  their  best  samples,  and 
leaving  with  the  hall-porter  tickets  of  the  prices.  Confectionery 
to  be  done  out  of  the  house.  Fruiterers,  market-men,  as 
butchers  and  poulterers.  The  Agent's  maitre-d' hotel  ys'-AX  give  a 
receipt  to  each  individual  for  the  articles  he  produces  ;  and  let 
all  remember  that  The  Agent  is  a  very  keen  judge,  and  woe 
betide  those  who  serve  him  or  his  clients  ill ! 

"  George  Gormand  Gobbleton. 

"  Carlton  Gardens,  Jime  lo,  1842." 

Here  I  have  sketched  out  the  heads  of  such  an  address  as  I 
conceive  a  gastronomic  agent  might  put  forth;  and  appeal 
pretty  confidently  to  the  British  public  regarding  its  merits  and 
my  own  discovery.  If  this  be  not  a  profession — a  new  one — a 
feasible  one — a  lucrative  one, — I  don't  know  what  is.  Say 
that  a  man  attends  but  fifteen  dinners  daily,  that  is  seventy-five 
guineas,  or  five  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  weekly,  or  fourteen 
thousand  three  hundred  pounds  for  a  season  of  six  months : 
and  how  many  of  our  younger  sons  have  such  a  capital  even  > 
Let,  then,  some  unemployed  gentleman  with  the  requisite  quali- 
fications come  forward.  It  will  not  be  necessary  that  he  should 
have  done  all  that  is  stated  in  the  prospectus  ;  but,  at  any  rate, 
let  him  say  he  has  :  there  can't  be  much  harm  in  an  innocent 
fib  of  that  sort ;  for  the  gastronomic  agent  must  be  a  sort  of 
dinner-pope,  whose  opinions  cannot  be  supposed  to  err. 

_  And  as  he  really  will  be  an  excellent  judge  of  eating  and 
drinking,  and  will  bring  his  whole  mind  to  bear  upon  the  ques- 
tion, and  will  speedily  acquire  an  experience  which  no  person 


FITZ-BOODLE'S  PROFESSIONS.  609 

out  of  the  profession  can  possibly  have  ;  and  as,  moreover,  he 
will  be  an  honorable  man,  not  practising  upon  his  client  in  any 
way,  or  demanding  sixpence  beyond  his  just  fee,  the  world  will 
gain  vastly  by  the  coming  forward  of  such  a  person — gain  in  good 
dinners,  and  absolutely  save  money :  for  what  is  five  guineas 
for  a  dinner  of  sixteen  ?  The  sum  may  be  gaspille  by  a  cook- 
wench,  or  by  one  of  those  abominable  before-named  pastry- 
cooks with  their  green  trays. 

If  any  man  take  up  the  business,  he  will  invite  me,  of 
course,  to  the  Monday  dinners.  Or  does  ingratitude  go  so  far 
as  that  a  man  should  forget  the  author  of  his  good  fortune  .''  I 
believe  it  does.     Turn  we  away  from  the  sickening  theme  ! 

And  now,  having  concluded  my  professions,  how  shall  I  ex- 
press my  obligations  to  the  discriminating  press  of  this  country 
for  the  unanimous  applause  which  hailed  my  first  appearance  "i 
It  is  the  more  wonderful,  as  I  pledge  my  sacred  word,  I  never 
wrote  a  document  before  much  longer  than  a  laundress's  bill, 
or  the  acceptance  of  an  invitation  to  dinner.  But  enough  of 
this  egotism :  thanks  for  praise  conferred  sound  like  vanity  ; 
gratitude  is  hard  to  speak  of,  and  at  present  it  swells  the  fulj 
heart  of 

George  Savage  Fitz-Boodlb. 


END  OF  "the  FITZ-BOODLE  PAPERS." 


THE 

WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB, 


DRAMATIS  PERSON.^. 


Mr.  Horace  Milliken,  a  Widower^  a  wealthy  City  Merchant. 

George  Milliken,  a  Child,  his  Son. 

Captain  Touchit,  his  Friend. 

Clarence  Kicklebury,  brother  to  Milliken'' s  late  Wife. 

John  Howell,  M:^  Butler  and  confidential  Servant. 

Charles  Page,  Foot-boy. 

BuLKELEY,  Lady  Kickleburfs  Servant. 

Mr.    BONNINGTON. 

Coachfnan,  Cab/nan;  a  Bluecoat  Boy,  another  Boy  {Mrs.  Prior'' i 
Sons.) 

Lady  Kicklebury,  Mother-in-law  to  Milliken. 
Mrs.  BoNNiNGTON,  Milliken' s  Mother  {married  again). 
Mrs.  Prior. 

Miss  Prior,  her  Daughter,  Governess  to  Milliken' s  Children. 
Arabella  Milliken,  a  Child. 
Mary  Barlow,  School-room  Maid. 

A  grown-up  Girl  and  Child  of  Mrs.  Prior'' Sy  Lady  K.^s  Maid^ 
Coek. 


THE 

WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 


ACT  L 

Scene. — Milliken's  villa  at  Richmond;  two  drawing-rooms 
opmifig  into  one  another.  The  late  Mrs.  Milliken's  portrait 
over  the  mantel-piece ;  book-cases,  writing-tables,  piano,  neivs- 
papers,  a  handsomely  furnished  saloon.  The  backroom  opens 
with  very  large  windows,  on  the  lawn  and  pleasure-ground  ; 
gate,  and  wall — over  zvhich  the  heads  of  a  cab  and  a  carriage 
are  seen,  as  persons  arrive.  Fruit,  and  a  ladder  oti  the  walls. 
A  door  to  the  dining-room,  another  to  the  sleeping  apartments^ 
dfc. 

John. — Everybody  out ;  governor  in  the  city ;  governess 
(heigh-ho  !)  walking  in  the  Park  with  the  children  ;  ladyship 
gone  out  in  the  carriage.  Let's  sit  down  and  have  a  look  at 
the  papers.  Buttons  !  fetch  the  Morning  Post  out  of  Lady 
Kicklebury's  room.     Where's  the  Daily  News,  sir  ? 

Page. — Think  it's  in  Milliken's  room. 

John. — Milliken  !  you  scoundrel !  What  do  you  mean  by 
Milliken  ?  Speak  of  your  employer  as  your  governor  if  you 
like  ;  but  not  as  simple  Milliken.  Confound  your  impudence  ! 
you'll  be  calling  me  Howell  next. 

Page. — Well !  I  didn't  know.      You  call  him  Milliken. 

John. — Because  I  know  him,  because  I'm  intimate  with  him, 
because  there's  not  a  secret  he  has  but  I  may  have  it  for  the 
asking  ;  because  the  letters  addressed  to  Horace  Milliken,  Esq., 
might  as  well  be  addressed  John  Howell,  Esq.,  for  I  read  'em, 
I  put  'em  away  and  docket  'em,  and  remember  'em,     I  know 

(613) 


^14  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB, 

his  affairs  better  than  he  does  :  his  income  to  a  shilling,  pay 
his  tradesmen,  wear  his  coats  if  I  like,  /may  call  Mr.  Milliken 
what  I  please  ;  but  not  you,  you  little  scamp  of  a  clod-hopping 
ploughboy.  Know  your  station  and  do  your  business,  or  you 
don't  wear  them  buttons  long,  I  promise  you.     \Exit  Page.] 

Let  me  go  on  with  the  paper  \reads\.  How  brilliant  this 
writing  is  !  Times,  Chronicle,  Daily  News,  they're  all  good, 
blest  if  they  ain't.  How  much  better  the  nine  leaders  in  them 
three  daily  papers  is,  than  nine  speeches  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons !  Take  a  very  best  speech  in  the  'Ouse  now,  and  com- 
pare it  with  an  article  in  The  Times !  I  say,  the  newspaper 
has  the  best  of  it  for  philosophy,  for  wit,  novelty,  good  sense 
too.  And  the  party  that  writes  the  leading  article  is  nobody, 
and  the  chap  that  speaks  in  the  House  of  Commons  is  a  hero. 
Lord,  Lord,  how  the  world  is  'umbugged  !  Pop'lar  representa- 
tion !  what  is  pop'lar  representation  ?  Dammy,  it's  a  farce. 
Hallo  !  this  article  is  stole  !  I  remember  a  passage  in  Montes- 
quieu uncommonly  like  it.  \_Gocs  and  gets  the  book.  As  he  is 
standing  upon  the  sofa  to  get  it,  and  sitting  down  to  read  it.  Miss 
Prior  a«^  the  Children  have  come  in  at  the  garden.  Children 
pass  across  stage.  Miss  Prior  enters  by  opeti  window,  bringing 
flowers  into  the  room.'\ 

John. — It  is  like  it.  [Jle  slaps  the  book,  and  seeing  Miss 
Prior  who  enters^  then  jumps  up  from  sofa,  saying  vefy  respect- 
fully,-] 

John. — I  beg  your  pardon.  Miss. 

Miss  P. — [sarcastically.']     Do  I  disturb  you,  Howell  ? 

John. — Disturb  !  I  have  no  right  to  say — a  servant  has  no 
right  to  be  disturbed,  but  I  hope  I  may  be  pardoned  for  ven- 
turing to  look  at  a  volume  in  the  libery,  Miss,  just  in  reference 
to  a  newspaper  harticle — that's  all.  Miss. 

Miss  P. — You  are  very  fortunate  in  finding  anything  to  in- 
terest you  in  the  paper,  I'm  sure. 

John. — Perhaps,  Miss,  you  are  not  accustomed  to  political 
discussion,  and  ignorant  of — ah — I  beg  your  pardon  :  a  servant, 
I  know,  has  no  right  to  speak.  [Exit  into  dining-room,  making 
a  low  bow.] 

Miss  Prior. — The  coolness  of  some  people  is  really  quite 
extraordinary !  the  airs  they  give  themselves,  the  way  in  which 
they  answer  one,  the  books  they  read  !  Montesquieu :  "  Esprit 
des  Lois  !  "  [takes  book  up  which  J.  has  left  on  sofa.]  I  believe 
the  man  has  actually  taken  this  from  the  shelf.  I  am  sure  Mr. 
Milliken,  or  her  ladyship,  never  would.  The  other  day  "  Hel- 
vetius "  was  found  in  Mr.  Howell's  pantry,  forsooth  !     It  is 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  615 

wonderful  how  he  picked  up  French  whilst  we  were  abroad. 
"  Esprit  des  Lois  !  "  what  is  it  ?  it  must  be  dreadfully  stupid. 
And  as  for  reading  "  Helvetius  "  (who,  I  suppose,  was  a  Roman 

general),  I  really  can't  understand  how Dear,   dear  !  what 

airs  these  persons  give  themselves  !  What  will  come  next  ?  A 
footman — I  beg  Mr.  Howell's  pardon — a  butler  and  confiden- 
tial valet  lolls  on  the  drawing-room  sofa,  and  reads  Montes- 
quieu !  Impudence  !  And  add  to  this,  he  follows  me  for  the 
last  two  or  three  months  with  eyes  that  are  quite  horrid.  What 
can  the  creature  mean  ?  But  I  forgot — I  am  only  a  governess. 
A  governess  is  not  a  lady — a  governess  is  but  a  servant — a 
governess  is  to  work  and  walk  all  day  with  the  children,  dine 
in  the  school-room,  and  come  to  the  drawing-room  to  play  the 
man  of  the  house  to  sleep.  A  governess  is  a  domestic,  only 
her  place  is  not  the  servants'  hall,  and  she  is  paid  not  quite  so 
well  as  the  butler  who  serves  her  her  glass  of  wine.  Odious  ! 
George  !  Arabella  !  there  are  those  little  wretches  quarrelling 
again  !  Exit,  Children  are  heard  calling  out,  and  seen  quarrelling 
in  garden.'] 

John  [re-entering]. — See  where  she  moves  !  grace  is  in  all 
her  steps.  'Eaven  in  her  high — no — a-heaven  in  her  heye,  in 
every  gesture  dignity  and  love — ah,  I  wish  I  could  say  it !  I 
wish  you  may  procure  it,  poor  fool !  She  passes  by  me — she 
tr-r-amples  on  me.  Here's  the  chair  she  sets  in  [kisses  it.] 
Here's  the  piano  she  plays  on.  Pretty  keys,  them  fingers 
outhivories  you !  When  she  plays  on  it,  I  stand  and  listen  at 
the  drawing-room  door,  and  my  heart  thr-obs  in  time  !  Fool, 
fool,  fool !  why  did  you  look  on  her,  John  Howell !  why  did 
you  beat  for  her,  busy  heart !  You  were  tranquil  till  you  knew 
her !  I  thought  I  could  have  been  a-happy  with  Mary  till  then. 
That  girl's  affection  soothed  me.  Her  conversation  didn't 
amuse  me  much,  her  ideers  ain't  exactly  elevated,  but  they  are 
just  and  proper.  Her  attentions  pleased  me.  She  ever  kep' 
the  best  cup  of  tea  for  me.  She  crisped  my  buttered  toast,  or 
mixed  my  quiet  tumbler  for  me,  as  I  sat  of  hevenings  and  read 
my  newspaper  in  the  kitching.  She  respected  the  sanctaty  of 
my  pantry.  When  I  was  a-studying  there,  she  never  inter- 
rupted me.  She  darned  my  stockings  for  me,  she  starched 
and  folded  my  chokers,  and  she  sowed  on  the  habsent  buttons 
of  which  time  and  chance  had  bereft  my  linning.  She  has  a 
good  heart,  Mary  has.  I  know  she'd  get  up  and  black  the 
boots  for  me  of  the  coldest  winter  mornings.  She  did  when 
we  was  in  humbler  life,  she  did. 


6i6  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

Enter  Mary. 

You  have  good  heart,  Mary  ! 

Mary. — Have  I,  dear  John  ?  [sad/j.] 

John. — Yes,  child — yes.  I  think  a  better  never  beat  in 
woman's  bosom.  You're  good  to  everybody — good  to  your 
parents  whom  you  send  half  your  wages  to  :  good  to  your  em- 
ployers whom  you  never  robbed  of  a  halfpenny. 

Mary  \whi7npering\. — Yes,  I  did,  John.  I  took  the  jelly 
when  you  were  in  bed  with  the  influenza ;  and  brought  you  the 
pork-wine  negus. 

John. — Port,  not  pork,  child.  Pork  is  the  hanimal  which 
Jews  ab'or.     Port  is  from  Oporto  in  Portugal. 

Mary  \_s till  crying]. — Yes,  John ;  you  know  everything  a'most, 
John. 

John. — And  you,  poor  child,  but  littje  !  It's  not  heart  you 
want,  you  little  trump,  it's  education,  Mary :  it's  information  : 
it's  head,  head,  head  !  You  can't  learn.  You  never  can  learn. 
Your  ideers  ain't  no  good.  You  never  can  hinterchange  'em 
with  mine.  Conversation  between  us  is  impossible.  It's  not 
your  fault.  Some  people  are  born  clever  ;  some  are  born  tall, 
I  ain't  tall, 

Mary, — Ho  !  you're  big  enough  for  me,  John.  \_Offers  to 
fake  his  hand.] 

John. — Let  go  my  'and — my  a-hand,  Mary  !  I  say,  some 
people  are  born  with  brains,  and  some  with  big  figures.  Look 
at  that  great  ass,  Bulkeley,  Lady  K.'s  man — the  besotted,  stupid 
beast !  He's  as  big  as  a  life-guardsman,  but  he  ain't  no  more 
education  nor  ideers  than  the  ox  he  feeds  on, 

Mary, — Law,  John,  whatever  do  you  mean  ? 

John. — Hm  !  you  know  not,  little  one !  you  never  can 
know.  Have  you  ever  felt  the  pangs  of  imprisoned  genius  ? 
have  yoit  ever  felt  what  'tis  to  be  a  slave  ? 

Mary. — Not  in  a  free  country,  I  should  hope,  John  Howell 
— no  such  a  thing.  A  place  is  a  place,  and  I  know  mine,  and 
am  content  with  the  spear  of  life  in  which  it  pleases  heaven  to 
place  me,  John :  and  I  wish  you  were,  and  remembered  what 
we  learned  from  our  parson  when  we  went  to  school  together 
in  dear  old  Pigeoncot,  John — when  you  used  to  help  little  Mary 
with  her  lessons,  John,  and  fought  Bob  Brown,  the  big  butcher's 
boy,  because  he  was  rude  to  me,  John,  and  he  gave  you  that 
black  hi. 

John. — Say  eye,  Mary,  not  heye  \^gently\ 

Mary. — Eye ;  and  I  thought  you  never  looked  better  in  all 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  617 

your  life  than  you  did  then  :  and  we  both  took  service  at  Squire 
Milliken's — me  as  a  dairy-girl,  and  you  as  knife-boy  ;  and 
good  masters  have  they  been  to  us  from  our  youth  hup  :  both 
old  Squire  Milliken  and  Mr.  Charles  as  is  master  now,  and 
poor  Mrs.  as  is  dead,  though  she  had  her  tantrums — and  I 
thought  we  should  save  up  and  take  the  "  Milliken  Arms  " — 
and  now  we  have  saved  up — and  now,  now,  now — oh,  you  are 
a  stone,  a  stone,  a  stone  !  and  I  wish  you  were  hung  round  my 
neck,  and  I  were  put  down  the  well !  There's  the  hup-stairs 
bell.  \She  starts,  changing  her  7nanner  as  she  hears  the  bell^ 
and  exit.] 

John  [looking  after  her]. — It's  all  true.  Gospel-true.  We 
were  children  in  the  same  village — sat  on  the  same  form  at 
school.  And  it  was  for  her  sake  that  Bob  Brown  the  butcher's 
boy  whopped  me.  A  black  eye  !  I'm  not  handsome.  But  if 
I  were  ugly,  ugly  as  the  Saracen's  'Ead,  ugly  as  that  beast 
Bulkeley,  I  know  it  would  be  all  the  same  to  Mary.  She  has 
never  forgot  the  boy  she  loved,  that  brought  birds'-nests  for 
her,  and  spent  his  halfpenny  on  cherries,  and  bought  a  fairing 
with  his  first  half-crown — a  brooch  it  was,  I  remember,  of  two 
billing  doves  a-hopping  on  one  twig,  and  brought  it  home  for 
little  yellow-haired,  blue-eyed,  red-cheeked  Mary.  Lord,  Lord  ! 
I  don't  like  to  think  how  I've  kissed  'em,  the  pretty  cheeks  ! 
they've  got  quite  pale  now  with  crying — and  she  has  never 
once  reproached  me,  not  once,  the  trump,  the  little  tr-oump  ! 

Is  it  my  fault  {stamping]  that  Fate  has  separated  us  ?  Why 
did  my  young  master  take  me  up  to  Oxford,  and  give  me  the 
run  of  his  libery  and  the  society  of  the  best  scouts  in  the  Uni- 
versity ?  Why  did  he  take  me  abroad  ?  Why  have  I  been  to 
Italy,  France,  Jummany  with  him — their  manners  noted  and 
their  realms  surveyed,  by  jingo  !  I've  improved  myself,  and 
Mary  has  remained  as  you  was.  I  try  a  conversation,  and  she 
can't  respond.  She's  never  got  a  word  of  poetry  beyond 
Watt's  Ims,  and  if  I  talk  of  Byron  or  Moore  to  her,  I'm  blest 
if  she  knows  anything  more  about  'em  than  the  cook,  who  is 
as  hignorant  as  a  pig,  or  that  beast  Bulkeley,  Lady  Kick's 
footman.  Above  all,  why,  why  did  I  see  the  woman  upon 
whom  my  wretched  heart  is  fixed  forever,  and  who  carries 
away  my  soul  with  her — prostrate,  I  say,  prostrate,  through  the 
mud  at  the  skirts  of  her  gownd  !  Enslaver !  why  did  I  ever 
come  near  you  ?  O  enchantress  Kelipso  !  how  you  have  got 
hold  of  me  !  It  was  Fate,  Fate,  Fate.  When  Mrs.  Milliken 
fell  ill  of  scarlet  fever  at  Naples,  Milliken  was  away  at  Peters- 
borough,   Rooshia,   looking   after  his  property.      Her  foring 


6i8  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

woman  fled.  Me  and  the  governess  remained  and  nursed  he' 
and  the  children.  We  nursed  the  little  ones  out  of  the  fever. 
We  buried  their  mother.  We  brought  the  children  home  over 
Halp  and  Happenine.  I  nursed  'em  all  three.  I  tended  'em 
all  three,  the  orphans,  and  the  lovely  gu-gu-governess.  At 
Rome,  where  she  took  ill,  I  waited  on  her ;  as  we  went  to 
Florence,  had  we  been  attacked  by  twenty  thousand  brigands, 
this  little  arm  had  courage  for  them  all !  And  if  I  loved  thee, 
Julia,  was  I  wrong  ?  and  if  I  basked  in  thy  beauty  day  and 
night,  Julia,  am  I  not  a  man  ?  and  if,  before  this  Peri,  this  en- 
chantress, this  gazelle,  I  forgot  poor  little  Mary  Barlow,  how 
could  I  help  it  ?     I  say,  how  the  doose  could  I  help  it  ? 

\Enter  Lady  Kicklebury,  Bulkeley  following  with  parcels 
and  a  spaniel^ 

Lady  K. — Are  the  children  and  the  governess  come  home  ? 

John. — Yes,  my  lady  [in  a  perfectly  altered  tone\. 

Lady  K. — Bulkeley,  take  those  parcels  to  my  sitting-room. 

John. — Get  up,  old  stoopid.  Push  along,  old  daddylonglegs 
\aside  to  Bulkeley]. 

Lady  K. — Does  any  one  dine  here  to-day,  Howell  ? 

John. — Captain  Touchit,  my  lady. 

Lady  K. — He's  always  dining  here. 

John. — My  master's  oldest  friend. 

Lady  K. — Don't  tell  me.  He  comes  from  his  club.  He 
smells  of  smoke ;  he  is  a  low,  vulgar  person.  Send  Pinhorn 
up  to  me  when  you  go  down  stairs.     {Exit  Lady  J^.] 

John. — I  know.  Send  Pinhorn  to  me,  means.  Send  my 
bonny  brown  hair,  and  send  my  beautiful  complexion,  and  send 
my  figure — and,  O  Lord  !  O  Lord !  what  an  old  tigress  that 
is  !  What  an  old  Hector  !  How  she  do  twist  Millkken  round 
her  thumb  !  He's  born  to  be  bullied  by  women  :  and  I  remem- 
ber him  henpecked — let's  see,  ever  since — ever  since  the  time 
of  that  little  gloveress  at  Woodstock,  whose  picter  poor  Mrs. 
M.  made  such  a  noise  about  when  she  found  it  in  the  lumber- 
room.  Heh  !  /ler  picture  will  be  going  into  the  lumber-room 
some  day.  M.  must  marry  to  get  rid  of  his  mother-in-law  and 
mother  over  him  :  no  man  can  stand  it,  not  M.  himself,  who's 
a  Job  of  a  man.  Isn't  he,  look  at  him !  [As  he  has  been  speak- 
ing, the  bell  has  rung,  the  Page  has  run  to  the  garden-door,  and 
MiLLiKEN  enters  through  the  garden,  laden  with  a  hamper,  band- 
box and  cricket-bat^ 

MiLLiKEN. — Why  was  the  carriage  not  sent  for  me,  Howell  ? 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  615 

There  was  no  cab  at  the  station,  and  I  have  had  to  toil  all  tha 
way  up  the  hill  with  these  confounded  parcels  of  my  lady's. 

John, — I  suppose  the  shower  took  off  all  the  cabs,  sir. 
When  did  a  man  ever  get  a  cab  in  a  shower  ? — or  a  policeman 
at  a  pinch — or  a  friend  when  you  wanted  him — or  anything  at 
the  right  time,  sir  ? 

MiLLiKEN. — But,  sir,  why  didn't  the  carriage  come,  I  say? 

John. —  You  know. 

MiLLiKEN. — How  do  you  mean  I  know  ?  confound  your  im- 
pudence ! 

John. — Lady  Kicklebury  took  it — your  mother-in-law  took 
it — went  out  a-visiting — Ham  Common,  Petersham,  Twick'nam 
— doose  knows  where.  She,  and  her  footman,  and  her  span'l 
dog. 

MiLLiKEN. — Well,  sir,  suppose  her  ladyship  did  take  the 
carriage  ?  Hasn't  she  a  perfect  right  .^  And  if  the  carriage 
was  gone,  I  want  to  know,  John,  why  the  devil  the  pony-chaise 
wasn't  sent  with  the  groom  ?  Am  I  to  bring  a  bonnet-box  and 
a  hamper  of  fish  in  my  own  hands,  I  should  like  to  know  ? 

John. — Heh  !  \laughs\. 

MiLLiKEN. — Why  do  you  grin,  you  Cheshire  cat  ? 

John. — Your  mother-in-law  had  the  carriage ;  and  your 
mother  sent  for  the  pony-chaise.  Your  Pa  wanted  to  go  and 
see  the  Wicar  of  Putney.  Mr.  Bennington  don't  like  walking 
when  he  can  ride. 

MiLLiKEN. — And  why  shouldn't  Mr.  Bennington  ride,  sir, 
as  long  as  there's  a  carriage  in  my  stable  ?  Mr.  Bonnington 
has  had  the  gout,  sir !  Mr.  Bonnington  is  a  clergyman,  and 
married  to  my  mother.     He  has  every  title  to  my  respect. 

John. — And  to  your  pony-chaise — yes,  sir. 

MiLLiKEN. — And  to  everything  he  likes  in  this  house,  sir. 

John. — What  a  good  fellow  you  are,  sir  !  You'd  give  your 
head  off  your  shoulders,  that  you  would.  Is  the  fish  for  dinner 
to-day  ?  Bandbox  for  my  lady,  I  suppose,  sir  ?  \Looks  ///] — • 
Turban,  feathers,  bugles,  marabouts,  spangles — doose  knows 
what.  Yes,  it's  for  her  ladyship.  \To  Page].  Charles,  take 
this  bandbox  to  her  ladyship's  maid.  \To  his  master.']  What 
sauce  would  you  like  with  the  turbot  ?  Lobster  sauce  or  Hol- 
landaise  ?  Hollandaise  is  best — most  wholesome  for  you.  Any- 
body besides  Captain  Touchit  coming  to  dinner  ? 

MiLLiKEN. — No  one  that  I  know  of. 

John. — Very  good.  Bring  up  a  bottle  of  the  brown  hock  f 
He  likes  the  brown  hock.  Touchit  does.     [Exit  John.] 

40 


620  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

Enter  Children.     They  run  to  Milliken. 

Both. — How  d'you  do,  Papa  !     How  do  you  do,  Papa  ! 

Milliken. — Kiss  your  old  father,  Arabella.  Come  hero 
George What .-' 

George. — Don't  care  for  kissing — kissing's  for  gals.  Have 
you  brought  me  that  bat  from  London  ? 

Milliken. — Yes.  Here's  the  bat;  and  here's  the  h?\\\takcs 
one  from  pockei\ — and 

George — Where's  the  wickets,  Papa.  O-o-o — where's  the 
wickets  ?  \Jiowls?\ 

Milliken. — My  dear,  darling  boy !  I  left  them  at  the 
office.  What  a  silly  papa  I  was  to  forget  them  !  Parkins  for- 
got them. 

George. — Then  turn  him  away,  I  say  !  Turn  him  away ! 
\He  statnps^ 

Milliken. — What !  an  old,  faithful  clerk  and  servant  of 
your  father  and  grandfather  for  thirty  years  past  ?  An  old 
man,  who  loves  us  all,  and  has  nothing  but  our  pay  to  live  on  ? 

Arabella. — Oh,  you  naughty  boy  ! 

George. — I  ain't  a  naughty  boy. 

Arabella. — You  are  a  naughty  boy. 

George. — He  !  he  !  he  !  he  !     [^Grhis  at  her.'] 

Milliken. — Hush,  children  !  Here,  Arabella  darling,  here 
is  a  book  for  you.     Look — aren't  they  pretty  pictures  ? 

Arabella. — Is  it  a  story,  Papa  ?  I  don't  care  for  stories  in 
general.  I  like  something  instructive  and  serious.  Grand- 
mamma Bonnington  and  grandpapa  say 

George. — He's  ?iot  your  grandpapa. 

Arabella. — He  is  my  grandpapa. 

George. — Oh,  you  great  story !  Look  !  look  !  there's  a  cab. 
\Runs  out.  The  head  of  a  Hansom  cab  is  seen  over  the  garden  gate. 
Bell  rings.  Page  comes.  Altercation  betiveen  Cabman  and  Cap- 
tain TouCHiT  appears  to  go  on,  during  which'] 

Milliken. — Come  and  kiss  your  old  father,  Arabella.  He's 
hungry  for  kisses. 

Arabella. — Don't.  I  want  to  go  and  look  at  the  cab  ;  and 
to  tell  Captain  Touchit  that  he  mustn't  use  naughty  words, 
[Runs  towards  garden.     Page  is  seen  carrying  a  carpet-bag.] 

Enter  Touchit  through  the  open  window  smoking  a  cigar. 

Touchit. — How  d'ye  do,  Milliken?  How  are  tallows, 
hey,  my  noble  merchant  ?  I  hav^  brought  my  bag,  and  intend, 
to  sleep 


THE  WOLVES  AND   THE  LAMB.  62 1 


George. — I  say,  godpapa -* 

TouCHiT.— Well,  godson ! 

George. — Give  us  a  cigar  ! 

ToucHiT. — Oh,  you  enfant  terrible  ! 

MiLLiKEN  \uihcezUy\.  —  Ah  —  ahem George  Touchit  ! 

you  wouldn't  mind — a — smoking  that  cigar  in  the  garden,  would 
you  ?     Ah — ah  ! 

Touchit. — Hullo  !  What's  in  the  wind  now  ?  You  used 
to  be  a  most  inveterate  smoker,  Horace. 

MiLLiKEN. — The  fact  is — my  mother-in-law — Lady  Kickle- 
bury — doesn't  like  it,  and  while  she's  with  us,  you  know 

Touchit. — Of  course,  of  course  \throws  away  cigat-\.  I  beg 
her  ladyship's  pardon.  I  remember  when  you  were  courting 
her  daughter  she  used  not  to  mind  it. 

MiLLiKEN. — Don't — don't  allude  to  those  times.  [He  looks 
up  at  his  wife's  picture ^^ 

George. — My  mamma  was  a  Kicklebury.  The  Kickle- 
burys  are  the  oldest  family  in  the  world.  My  name  is  George 
Kicklebury  IMilliken,  of  Pigeoncot,  Hants  ;  the  Grove,  Rich- 
mond, Surrey ;  and  Portland  Place,  London,  Esquire  —  my 
name  is, 

Touchit. — You  have  forgotten  Billiter  Street,  hemp  and 
tallow  merchant. 

George. — Oh,  bother!  I  don't  care  about  that.  I  shall 
leave  that  when  I'm  a  man :  when  I'm  a  man  and  come  into 
my  property. 

MiLLiKEN. — You  come  into  your  property  ? 

George. — I  shall,  you  know,  when  you're  dead,  papa.  I 
shall  have  this  house,  and  Pigeoncot ;  and  the  house  in  town 
— no,  I  don't  mind  about  the  house  in  town — and  I  sha'n't  let 
Bella  live  with  me — no,  I  won't. 

Bella. — No  ;  /won't  live  with  you.  And  /'//  have  Pigeon- 
cot. 

George. — You  sha'n't  have  Pigeoncot,  I'll  have  it:  and 
the  ponies  :  and  I  won't  let  you  ride  them — and  the  dogs,  and 
you  sha'n't  have  even  a  puppy  to  play  with — and  the  dairy — and 
won't  I  have  as  much  cream  as  I  like — that's  all ! 

Touchit. — What  a  darling  boy !  Your  children  are  brought 
up  beautifully,  Milliken.  It's  quite  delightful  to  see  them 
together, 

George, — And  I  shall  sink  the  name  of  Milliken,  I  shall, 
Milliken, — Sink  the  name  ?  why  George  ? 
George. —  Because   the    Millikens   are   nobodies  —  grand 
mamma  says  they  are  nobodies.     The  Kickleburj's  are  gentler 
men,  and  came  over  with  William  the  Conqueror, 


632  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

Bella, — I  know  when  that  was.  One  thousand  one  huiv 
dred  and  one  thousand  one  hundred  and  onety-one  ! 

George. — Bother  when  they  came  over  !  But  I  know 
this,  when  I  come  into  the  property  I  shall  sink  the  name  of 
Milliken. 

MiLLiKEN. — So  you  are  ashamed  of  your  father's  name,  are 
you,  George,  my  boy  t 

George. — Ashamed  !  No,  I  ain't  ashamed.  Only  Kickle- 
bury  is  sweller.     I  know  it  is.     Grandmamma  says  so. 

Bella. — My  grandmamma  does  not  say  so.  My  dear 
grandmamma  says  that  family  pride  is  sinful,  and  all  belongs 
to  this  wicked  world ;  and  that  in  a  very  few  years  what  our 
names  are  will  not  matter. 

George. — Yes,  she  says  so  because  her  father  kept  a  shop  ; 
and  so  did  Pa's  father  keep  a  sort  of  shop — only  Pa's  a  gen- 
tleman now. 

ToucHiT. — Darling  child  !  How  I  wish  I  were  married  ! 
If  I  had  such  a  dear  boy  as  you,  George,  do  you  know  what 
1  would  give  him  ? 

George  \(iuite  pleased\ — What  would  you  give  him,  god- 
papa  ? 

ToucHiT. — I  would  give  him  as  sound  a  flogging  as  ever 
boy  had,  my  darling.  I  would  whip  this  nonsense  out  of  him. 
I  would  send  him  to  school,  where  I  would  pray  that  he  might 
be  well  thrashed  :  and  if  when  he  came  home  he  was  still 
ashamed  of  his  father,  I  would  put  him  apprentice  to  a  chimney- 
sweep— that's  what  I  would  do. 

George. — I'm  glad  you're  not  my  father,  that  s  all. 

Bella. — And  I'm  glad  your  not  my  father,  because  you  are 
a  wicked  man  ! 

Milliken. — Arabella  ! 

Bella, — Grandmamma  says  so.  He  is  a  worldly  man,  and 
the  world  is  wicked.  And  he  goes  to  the  play  :  and  he  smokes, 
and  he  says 

ToucHiT, — Bella,  what  do  I  say  ? 

Bella. — Oh,  something  dreadful  !  You  know  you  do  !  I 
heard  you  say  it  to  the  cabman. 

ToucHiT. — So  I  did,  so  I  did !  He  asked  me  fifteen  shil- 
lings from  Piccadilly,  and  I  told  him  to  go  to to  some- 
body whose  name  begins  with  a  D. 

Children. — Here's  another  carriage  passing. 

Bella. — The  Lady  Rumble's  carriage. 

George. — No,  it  ain't :  it's  Captain  Boxer's  carriage  \thirf 
run  into  thcgarden\. 


THE  WOLVES  AXD   THE  LAMB.  623 

TouCHiT. — And  this  is  the  pass  to  which  you  have  brought 
yourself,  Horace  Milliken  !  Why,  in  your  wife's  time,  it  was 
better  than  this,  my  poor  fellow  ! 

Milliken. — Don't  speak  of  her  in  that  way,  George 
Touchit ! 

ToucHiT. — What  have  I  said  ?  I  am  only  regretting  her  loss 
for  your  sake.  She  tyrannized  over  you  ;  turned  your  friends 
out  of  doors ;  took  your  name  out  of  your  clubs  ;  dragged 
you  about  from  party  to  party,  though  you  can  no  more  dance 
than  a  bear,  and  from  opera  to  opera,  though  you  don't  know 
*'  God  Save  the  Queen  "  from  "  Rule  Britannia."  You  don't, 
sir ;  you  know  you  don't.  But  Arabella  was  better  than  her 
mother,  who  has  taken  possession  of  you  since  your  widow- 
hood. 

Milliken. — My  dear  fellow  !  no  she  hasn't.  There's  my 
mother. 

Touchit. — Yes,  to  be  sure,  there's  Mrs.  Bonnington,  and 
they  quarrel  over  you  like  the  two  ladies  over  the  baby  before 
King  Solomon. 

Milliken. — Play  the  satirist,  my  good  friend  !  laugh  at  my 
weakness ! 

Touchit. — I  know  you  to  be  as  plucky  a  fellow  as  ever 
stepped,  Milliken,  when  a  man's  in  the  case.  I  know  you  and 
I  stood  up  to  each  other  for  an  hour  and  a  half  at  Westmin- 
ster. 

Milliken. — Thank  you  !  We  were  both  dragons  of  war ! 
tremendous  champions  !  Perhaps  I  am  a  little  soft  as  regards 
women.  I  know  my  weakness  well  enough  ;  but  in  my  case 
what  is  my  remedy  ?  Put  yourself  in  my  position.  Be  a 
widower  with  two  young  children.  What  is  more  natural  than 
that  the  mother  of  my  poor  wife  should  come  and  superintend 
my  family  ?  My  own  mother  can't.  She  has  a  half-dozen  of 
little  half  brothers  and  sisters,  and  a  husband  of  her  own  to 
attend  to.  I  dare  say  Mr.  Bonnington  and  my  mother  will 
come  to  dinner  to-day. 

Touchit. — Of  course  they  will,  my  poor  old  Milliken,  you 
don't  dare  to  dine  without  them. 

Milliken. — Don't  go  on  in  that  manner,  George  Touchit ! 
Why  should  not  my  stepfather  and  my  mother  dine  with  me  ? 
I  can  afford  it.  I  am  a  domestic  man  and  like  to  see  my  re- 
lations about  me.     I  am  in  the  City  all  day. 

Touchit. — Luckily  for  you. 

Milliken. — And  my  pleasure  of  an  evening  is  to  sit  undei 
my  own  vine  and  under  my  own  fig-tree  with  my  own  olive- 


'624  "^^^  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB 

branches  round  about  me  j  to  sit  by  my  fire  with  my  children 
at  my  knees  ;  to  coze  over  a  snug  bottle  of  claret  after  dinner 
with  a  friend  like  you  to  share  it ;  to  see  the  young  folks  at  the 
breakfast-table  of  a  morning,  and  to  kiss  them  and  so  off  to 
business  with  a  cheerful  heart.  This  was  my  scheme  in  mar- 
rying, had  it  pleased  heaven  to  prosper  my  plan.  When  I  was 
a  boy  and  came  from  school  and  college,  I  used  to  see  Mr. 
Bonnington,  my  father-in-law,  with  his  young  ones  clustering 
round  about  him,  so  happy  to  be  with  him  !  so  eager  to  wait  on 
him  !  all  down  on  their  little  knees  round  my  mother  before 
breakfast  or  jumping  up  on  his  after  dinner.  It  was  who 
should  reach  his  hat,  and  who  should  bring  his  coat,  and  who 
should  fetch  his  unibrella,  and  who  should  get  the  last  kiss. 

ToucHiT. — What?  didn't  he  kiss  you'i  Oh,  the  hard- 
hearted old  ogre  ! 

MiLLiKEN. — Dont,  Touchit !  Don't  laugh  at  Mr.  Bon- 
nington !  He  is  as  good  a  fellow  as  ever  breathed.  Between 
you  and  me,  as  my  half  brothers  and  sisters  increased  and 
multiplied  year  after  year,  I  used  to  feel  rather  lonely, 
rather  bowled  out,  you  understand.  But  I  saw  them  so  happy 
that  I  longed  to  have  a  home  of  my  own.  When  my  mother 
proposed  Arabella  for  me  (for  she  and  Lady  Kicklebury  were 
immense  friends  at  one  time),  I  was  glad  enough  to  give  up 
clubs  and  bachelorhood,  and  to  settle  down  as  a  married  man. 
My  mother  acted  for  the  best.  My  poor  wife's  character,  my 
mother  used  to  say,  changed  after  marriage.  I  was  not  as 
happy  as  I  hoped  to  be  ;  but  I  tried  for  it.  George,  I  am  not 
so  comfortable  now  as  I  might  be.  A  house  without  a  mistress, 
with  two  mothers-in-law  reigning  over  it — one  worldly  and  aris- 
tocratic, another  what  you  call  serious,  though  she  don't  mind 
a  rubber  of  whist ;  I  give  you  my  honor  my  mother  plays  a  game 
at  whist,  and  an  uncommonly  good  game  too — each  woman 
dragging  over  a  child  to  her  side  ;  of  course  such  a  family  can- 
not be  comfortable.  \Bell  rings?^  There's  the  first  dinner- 
bell.     Go  and  dress,  for  heaven's  sake. 

Touchit. — Why  dress  ?     There  is  no  company  ! 

MiLLiKEN. — Why  ?  ah  !  her  ladyship  likes  it,  you  see.  And 
it  costs  nothing  to  humor  her.  Quick,  for  she  don't  like  to  be 
kept  waiting. 

Touchit. — Horace  Milliken  !  what  a  pity  it  is  the  law 
declares  a  widower  shall  not  marry  his  wife's  mother !  She 
would  marry  you  else, — she  would,  on  my  word. 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  .625 

Enter  John. 

John. — I  have  took  the  Captain's  things  in  the  blue  room, 
sir.     [Exeunt  gentlemen,  John  arranges  tables,  dv^r.] 

Ha  !  Mrs.  Prior  !  I  ain't  partial  to  Mrs.  Prior.  I  think 
she's  an  artful  old  dodger,  Mrs.  Prior.  I  think  there's  mystery 
in  her  unfathomable  pockets,  and  schemes  in  the  folds  of  her 
umbrella.  But — but  she's  Julia's  mother,  and  for  the  beloved 
one's  sake  I  am  civil  to  her. 

Mrs.  Prior. — Thank  you,  Charles  [to  the  Page,  zaho  has 
been  seen  to  let  her  in  at  the garden-gate\,  I  am  so  much  obliged  to 
you  !  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Howell.  Is  my  daughter — are  the 
darling  children  well  t  Oh,  I  am  quite  tired  and  weary  ! 
Three  horrid  omnibuses  were  full,  and  I  have  had  to  walk  the 
whole  weary  long  way.  Ah,  times  are  changed  with  me,  Mr. 
Howell.  Once  when  I  was  young  and  strong,  I  had  my  hus- 
band's carriage  to  ride  in. 

John  [aside\ — His  carriage  !  his  coal-wagon  !  I  know  well 
enough  who  old  Prior  was.  A  merchant  ?  yes  a  pretty  mer- 
chant !  kep'  a  lodging-house,  share  in  a  barge,  touting  for 
orders,  and  at  last  a  snug  little  place  in  the  Gazette. 

Mrs.  Prior. — How  is  your  cough,  Mr.  Howell  "i  I  have 
brought  you  some  lozenges  for  it  [takes  numberless  articles  from 
her pocket\  and  if  you  would  take  them  of  a  night  and  morning 
— oh,  indeed,  you  would  get  better  !  The  late  Sir  Henry  Hal- 
ford  recommended  them  to  Mr.  Prior.  He  was  his  late  Maj- 
esty's physician  and  ours.  You  know  we  have  seen  happier 
times,  Mr.  Howell.     Oh,  I  am  quite  tired  and  faint. 

John. — Will  you  take  anything  before  the  schoolroom  tea, 
ma'am  ?  You  will  stop  to  tea,  I  hope,  with  Miss  Prior,  and 
our  young  folks  ? 

Mrs.  Prior. — Thank  you  :  a  little  glass  of  wine  when  one 
is  so  faint — a  little  crumb  of  biscuit  when  one  is  so  old  and 
tired  !  I  have  not  been  accustomed  to  want,  you  know  ;  and  in 
my  poor  dear  Mr.  Prior's  time 

John. — I'll  fetch  some  wine,  ma'am.  [Exit  to  the  dining- 
room  ?\ 

Mrs.  Prior.— Bless  the  man,  how  abrupt  he  is  in  his  manner  ! 
He  quite  shocks  a  poor  lady  who  has  been  used  to  better  days. 
What's  here  ?  Invitations — ho  !  Bills  for  Lady  Kicklebury  ! 
They  are  not  paid.  Where  is  Mr.  M.  going  to  dine,  I  wonder  ? 
Captain  and  Mrs.  Hopkinson,  Sir  John  and  Lady  Tomkinson, 
request  the  pleasure.  Request  the  pleasure  !  Of  course  they 
do.     They  are  always  asking  Mr.  M.  to  dinner.     They  have 


626  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

daughters  to  marry,  and  Mr.  M.  is  a  widower  with  three  thou- 
sand a  year,  every  shilling  of  it.  I  must  tell  Lady  Kicklebury. 
He  must  never  go  to  these  places — never,  never — mustn't  be 
allowed.  [  While  talking^  she  opens  all  the  letters  on  the  table, 
rummages  the  portfolio  and  writing-box,  looks  at  cards  on  mantel- 
piece, work  in  work-basket  tries  tea-box  and  shows  the  greatest 
activity  and  curiosity.'] 

Re-enter  John,  bearing  a  tray  with  cakes.,  a  decanter,  &'C. 

Thank  you,  thank  you,  Mr.  Howell !  Oh,  oh,  dear  me,  not  so 
much  as  that !  Half  a  glass,  and  one  biscuit,  please.  What 
elegant  sherry  !  \sips  a  little,  and  puts  down  glass  on  tray].  Do 
you  know,  I  remember  in  better  days,  Mr.  Howell,  when  my 
poor  dear  husband ? 

John. — Beg  your  pardon.  There's  Milliken's  bell  going  like 
mad.     [£xit  John.] 

Mrs.  Prior. — What  an  abrupt  person  !  Oh,  but  it's  com- 
fortable, this  wine  is  !  And — and  I  think  how  my  poor  Char- 
lotte would  like  a  little — she  so  weak,  and  ordered  wine  by  the 
medical  man  !  And  when  dear  Adolphus  comes  home  from 
Christ's  quite  tired,  poor  boy,  and  hungry,  wouldn't  a  bit  of 
nice  cake  do  him  good  !  Adolphus  is  so  fond  of  plum-cake,  the 
darling  child  !  And  so  is  Frederick,  little  saucy  rogue  ;  and 
I'll  give  them  my  piece,  and  keep  my  glass  of  wine  for  my  dear 
delicate  angel  Shatty  !  [Takes  bottle  and  paper  out  of  her  pocket, 
cuts  off  a  great  slice  of  cake,  and  pours  wine  from  wineglass 
and  decanter  into  bottle.] 

Enter  Page. 

Page. — Master  George  and  Miss  Bella  is  going  to  have 
their  teas  down  here  with  Miss  Prior,  Mrs.  Prior,  and  she's  up 
in  the  schoolroom,  and  my  lady  says  you  may  stop  to  tea. 

Mrs.  Prior. — Thank  you,  Charles  !  how  tall  you  grow ! 
Those  trousers  would  fit  my  darling  Frederick  to  a  nicety. 
Thank  you,  Charles.  /  know  the  way  to  the  nursery.  [Exit 
Mrs.  p.] 

Page. — Know  the  way  !  I  believe  she  do  know  the  way. 
Been  a  having  cake  and  wine.  Howell  always  gives  her  cake 
and  wine — ^jolly  cake,  ain't  it  !  and  wine,  oh,  my ! 

Re-enter  John. 
John. — You  young  gormandizing  cormorant !     What  I  five 


THE  WOLVES  A IVD  THE  LAMB.  627 

meals  a  day  ain't  enough  for  you.     What  ?    beer  ain't  good 
enough  for  you,  hey  ?     {Pulls  boys  ears?\ 

Page  \crying\. — Oh,  oh,  do-o-n't,  Mr.  Howell.     I  only  took 
half  a  glass,  upon  my  honor. 

John. — Your  a-honor,  you  lying  young  vagabond  !  I  wonder 
the  ground  don't  open  and  swallow  you.  Half  a  glass  !  SJiolds 
up  decanter?^  You've  took  half  a  bottle,  you  young  Ananias  ! 
Mark  this,  sir  !  When  I  was  a  boy,  a  boy  on  my  promotion,  a 
child  kindly  took  in  from  charity-school,  a  horphan  in  buttons 
like  you,  I  never  lied  :  no,  nor  never  stole,  and  you've  done 
both,  you  little  scoundrel.  Don't  tell  me,  sir !  there's  plums  on 
your  coat,  crumbs  on  your  cheek,  and  you  smell  sherry,  sir !  I 
ain't  time  to  whop  you  now,  but  come  to  my  pantry  to-night 
after  you've  took  the  tray  down.  Come  tvithoict your  jacket  on, 
sir,  and  then  I'll  teach  you  what  it  is  to  lie  and  steal.  There's 
the  outer-bell.     Scud,  you  vagabond  ! 

Enter  Lady  K. 

Ladv  K. — What  was  the  noise,  pray  ? 

John. — A  difference  between  me  and  young  Page,  my  lady. 
I  was  instructing  him  to  keep  his  hands  from  picking  and  steal- 
ing. I  was  learning  him  his  lesson,  my  lady,  and  he  was 
a-crying  it  out. 

Lady  K. — It  seems  to  me  you  are  most  unkind  to  that  boy, 
Howell.  He  is  my  boy,  sir.  He  comes  from  my  estate.  I  will 
not  have  him  ill-used.  I  think  you  presume  on  your  long  services. 
I  will  speak  to  my  son-in-law  about  you.  ["  Yes,  my  lady  ;  no, 
my  lady  ;  very  good,  my  lady,  yohn  has  aiiswered  each  sentence 
as  she  is  speaking,  and  exit  gravely  bowi7ig?\  That  man  must 
quit  the  house.  Horace  says  he  can't  do  without  him,  but  he 
jnust  do  without  him.  My  poor  dear  Arabella  was  fond  of  him,, 
but  he  presumes  on  that  defunct  angel's  partiality.  Horace 
says  this  person  keeps  all  his  accounts,  sorts  all  his  letters,. 
•  manages  all  his  affairs,  may  be  trusted  with  untold  gold,  and 
rescued  little  George  out  of  the  fire.  Now  I  have  come  to  live 
with  my  son-in-law,  /will  keep  his  accounts,  sort  his  letters, 
and  take  charge  of  his  money  :  and  if  little  Georgy  gets  into 
the  grate,  /will  take  him  out  of  the  fire.  What  is  here  ?  In- 
vitation from  Captain  and  Mrs.  Hopkinson.  Invitation  from 
Sir  John  and  Lady  Tomkinson,  who  don't  even  ask  me f 
Monstrous  !  he  never  shall  go — he  shall  not  go  !  [Mrs.  Prior 
has  re-entered,  she  drops  a  very  low  curtsey  to  Lady  K.,  as  the 
latter,  perceiving  her,  lays  the  cards  down.'] 


628  THE  WOL  VES  AND  THE  LAMS. 

Mrs.  Prior. — Ah,  dear  madam !  how  kind  your  ladyship's 
message  was  to  the  poor  lonely  widow-woman !  Oh,  how 
thoughtful  it  was  of  your  ladyship  to  ask  me  to  stay  to  tea  ! 

Lady  K. — With  your  daughter  and  the  children  ?  Indeed, 
my  good  Mrs.  Prior,  you  are  very  welcome  ! 

Mrs.  Prior. — Ah  !  but  isn't  it  a  cause  of  thankfulness  to 
be  made  welcome  ?  Oughtn't  I  to  be  grateful  for  these  bless- 
ings ? — yes,  I  say  blessings.  And  I  am — I  am.  Lady  Kickle- 
bury — to  the  mother — of — that  angel  who  is  gone  \pomts  to  the 
picture'].  It  was  your  sainted  daughter  left  us — left  my  child  to 
the  care  of  Mr.  Milliken,  and — and  you,  who  are  now  his 
guardian  angel  I  may  say.  You  are,  Lady  Kicklebury — you 
are.  I  say  to  my  girl,  Julia,  Lady  Kicklebury  is  Mr.  Milliken's 
guardian  angel,  is  your  guardian  angel — for  without  you  could 
she  keep  her  place  as  governess  to  these  darling  children  ? 
It  would  tear  her  heart  in  two  to  leave  them,  and  yet  she  would 
be  forced  to  do  so.  You  know  that  some  one — shall  I  hesitate 
to  say  whom  I  mean  ? — that  Mr.  Milliken's  mother,  excellent 
lady  though  she  is,  does  not  love  my  child  because  you  love 
her.  You  do  love  her,  Lady  Kicklebury,  and  oh  !  a  mother's 
fond  heart  pays  you  back  !  But  for  you,  my  poor  Julia  must  go 
— go,  and  leave  the  children  whom  a  dying  angel  confided  to 
her! 

Lady  K. — O!  no,  never!  not  whilst /am  in  this  house, 
Mrs.  Prior.  Your  daughter  is  a  well-behaved  young  woman  : 
you  have  confided  to  me  her  long  engagement  to  Lieutenant — • 
Lieutenant  What-d'you-call'im,  in  the  Indian  service.  She 
has  been  very,  very  good  to  my  grandchildren — she  brought 
them  over  from  Naples  when  my — my  angel  of  an  Arabella 
died  there,  and  I  will  protect  Miss  Prior. 

Mrs.  Prior. — Bless  you,  bless  you,  noble,  admirable  woman  ! 
Don't  take  it  away  !  I  must,  I  will  kiss  your  dear,  generous 
hand !  Take  a  mother's,  a  widow's  blessings.  Lady  Kicklebury 
— the  blessings  of  one  who  has  known  misfortune  and  seen 
better  days,  and  thanks  heaven — yes,  heaven  ! — for  the  protec- 
tors she  has  found  ! 

Lady  K. — You  said — you  had — several  children,  I  think, 
my  good  Mrs.  Prior  ? 

Mrs.  Prior. — Three  boys — one,  my  eldest  blessing,  is  in 
a  wine-merchant's  office — ah,  if  Mr.  Milliken  would  but  give 
him  an  order !  an  order  from  t/iis  house  !  an  order  from  Lady 
Kicklebury's  son-in-law  ! — 

Lady  K. — It  shall  be  done,  my  good  Prior — we  will  see. 

Mrs.  Prior. — Another,  Adolphus,  dear  fellow  !  is  in  Christ's 


THE  WOL  FES  AND  THE  LAMB.  629 

Hospital.  It  was  dear,  good  Mr.  Milliken's  nomination.  Fred' 
erick  is  at  Merchant  Taylor's  :  my  darling  Julia  pays  his  school- 
ing. Besides,  I  have  two  girls — Amelia,  quite  a  little  toddles, 
just  the  size,  though  not  so  beautiful — but  in  a  mother's 
eyes  all  children  are  lovely,  dear  Lady  Kicklebury — just  the 
size  of  your  dear  granddaughter,  whose  clothes  would  fit  her, 
I  am  sure.  And  my  second,  Charlotte,  a  girl  as  tall  as  your 
ladyship,  though  not  with  so  fine  a  figure.  "Ah,  no,  Shatty  !  " 
I  say  to  her,  "you  are  as  tall  as  our  dear  patroness,  Lady  Kick- 
lebury, whom  you  long  so  to  see ;  but  you  have  not  got  her 
ladyship's  carriage  and  figure,  child."  Five  children  have  I, 
left  fatherless  and  penniless  by  my  poor  dear  husband — but 
heaven  takes  care  of  the  widow  and  orphan,  madam — and 
heaven's  best  creatures  feed  them  ! — you  know  whom  I  mean. 

Lady  K. — Should  you  not  like,  would  you  object  to  take — 
a  frock  or  two  of  little  Arabella's  to  your  child  ?  and  if  Pin- 
horn,  my  maid,  will  let  me,  Mrs.  Prior,  I  will  see  if  I  cannot 
find  something  against  winter  for  your  second  daughter,  as  you 
say  we  are  of  a  size. 

Mrs.  Prior. — The  widow's  and  orphans'  blessings  upon 
you !  I  said  my  Charlotte  was  as  tall,  but  I  never  said  she 
had  such  a  figure  as  yours — who  has  ? 

Charles  announces — 

Charles. — Mrs.  Bonnington  !    [Enter  Mrs.  Bonnington.] 

Mrs.  B. — How  do  you  do.  Lady  Kicklebury  ? 

Lady  K. — My  dear  Mrs.  Bonnington  !  and  you  come  to 
dinner  of  course  ? 

Mrs.  B. — To  dine  with  my  own  son,  I  may  take  the  liberty. 
How  are  my  grandchildren  ?  my  darling  little  Emily,  is  she 
well,  Mrs.  Prior. 

Lady  K.  [aside\ — Emily?  why  does  she  not  call  the  child 
by  her  blessed  mother's  name  of  Arabella  .?  [To  Mrs.  B.] 
Arabella  is  quite  well,  Mrs.  Bonnington.  Mr.  Squillings  said 
it  was  nothing  ;  only  her  grandmamma  Bonnington  spoiling  her, 
as  usual.  Mr.  Bonnington  and  all  your  numerous  young  folk 
are  well,  I  hope  ? 

Mrs.  B. — My  family  are  all  in  perfect  health,  I  thank  you. 
Is  Horace  come  home  from  the  City? 

Lady  K. — Goodness  !  there's  the  dinner-bell, — I  must  run 
to  dress. 

Mrs.  Prior. — Shall  I  come  with  you,  dear  Lady  Kickle* 
buiy  ? 


630  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

Lady  K. — Not  for  worlds,  my  good  Mrs.  Prior.  \_ExU 
Lady  K.] 

Mrs.  Prior. — How  do  you  do,  my  dear  madam  ?  Is  dear 
Mr.  Bonnington  qjiite  well  ?  What  a  sweet,  sweet  sermon  he 
gave  us  last  Sunday.  I  often  say  to  my  girl,  I  must  not  go  to 
hear  Mr.  Bonnington,  I  really  must  not,  he  makes  me  cry  so. 
Oh  !  he  is  a  great  and  gifted  man,  and  shall  I  not  have  one 
glimpse  of  him  ? 

Mrs.  B. — Saturday  evening,  my  good  Mrs.  Prior.  Don't 
you  know  that  my  husband  never  goes  out  on  Saturday,  having 
his  sermon  to  compose  ? 

Mrs.  p. — Oh,  those  dear,  dear  sermons  !  Do  you  know, 
madam,  that  my  little  Adolphus,  for  whom  your  son's  bounty 
procured  his  place  at  Christ's  Hospital,  was  very  much  touched 
indeed,  the  dear  child,  with  Mr.  Bonnington's  discourse  last 
Sunday  three  weeks,  and  refused  to  play  marbles  afterwards  at 
school  ?  The  wicked,  naughty  boys  beat  the  poor  child  ;  but 
Adolphus  has  his  consolation  !  Is  Master  Edward  well,  ma'am, 
and  Master  Robert,  and  Master  Frederick,  and  dear  little  funnj 
Master  William  ? 

Mrs.  B. — Thank  you,  Mrs.  Prior;  you  have  a  good  heart, 
indeed ! 

Mrs.  p. — Ah,  what  blessings  those  dears  are  to  you  !  I 
wish  your  dearest  little  grandson 

Mrs.  B. — The  little  naughty  wretch  !  Do  you  know,  Mrs. 
Prior,  my  grandson,  George  Milliken,  spilt  the  ink  over  my 
dear  husband's  bands,  which  he  keeps  in  his  great  dictionary  ; 
and  fought  with  my  child,  Frederick,  who  is  three  years  older 
than  George — actually  beat  his  own  uncle  ! 

Mrs.  p. — Gracious  mercy  !  Master  Frederick  was  not  hurt, 
I  hope  ? 

Mrs.  B. — No  ;  he  cried  a  great  deal ;  and  then  Robert  came 
up,  and  that  graceless  little  George  took  a  stick  ;  and  then  my 
husband  came  out,  and  do  you  know  George  Milliken  actually 
kicked  Mr.  Bonnington  on  his  shins,  and  butted  him  like  a 
little  naughty  ram  .'' 

Mrs.  p. — Mercy  !  mercy !  what  a  little  rebel  !  He  is 
spoiled,  dear  madam,  and  you  know  by  7vhotn. 

Mrs.  B. — By  his  grandmamma  Kicklebury.  I  know  it.  I 
want  my  son  to  whip  that  child,  but  he  refuses.  He  will  come 
to  no  good,  that  child. 

Mrs.  p. — Ah,  madam  !  don't  say  so  !  Let  us  hope  for  the 
best.  Master  George's  high  temper  will  subside  when  certain 
persons  who  pet  him  are  gone  away. 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  63 1 

Mrs.  B. — Gone  away !  they  never  will  go  away !  No,  mark 
my  words,  Mrs.  Prior,  that  woman  will  never  go  away.  She 
has  made  the  house  her  own  :  she  commands  everything  and 
everybody  in  it.  She  has  driven  me — me — Mr.  Milliken's  own 
mother — almost  out  of  it.  She  has  so  annoyed  my  dear  hus- 
band, that  Mr.  Bennington  will  scarcely  come  here.  Is  she 
not  always  sneering  at  private  tutors,  because  Mr.  Bonnington 
was  my  son's  private  tutor,  and  greatly  valued  by  the  late  Mr. 
Milliken  ?  Is  she  not  making  constant  allusions  to  old  women 
marrying  young  men,  because  Mr.  Bonnington  happens  to  be 
younger  than  me  ?  I  have  no  words  to  express  my  indignation 
respecting  Lady  Kicklebury.  She  never  pays  any  one,  and 
runs  up  debts  in  the  whole  town.  Her  man  Bulkeley's  conduct 
in  the  neighborhood  is  quite — quite 

Mrs.  B.— Gracious  goodness,  ma'am,  you  don't,  say  so  ! 
And  then  what  an  appetite  the  gormandizing  monster  has  ! 
Mary  tells  me  that  what  he  eats  in  the  servants'  hall  is  some- 
thing perfectly  frightful. 

Mrs.  B. — Everybody  feeds  on  my  poor  son  !  You  are 
looking  at  my  cap,  Mrs.  Prior  .?  ^During  this  time  Mrs.  Prior 
has  been  peering  into  a  parcel  which  Mrs.  PjOnnington  brought  in 
her  hand.']  I  brought  it  with  me  across  the  Park.  I  could  not 
walk  through  the  Park  in  my  cap.  Isn't  it  a  pretty  ribbon, 
Mrs.  Prior.? 

Mrs.  p. — Beautiful !  beautiful  !  How  blue  becomes  you  ! 
Who  would  think  you  were  the  mother  of  Mr.  Milliken  and 
seven  other  darling  children .?  You  can  afford  what  Lady 
Kicklebury  cannot. 

Mrs.  B. — And  what  is  that,  Prior  ?  A  poor  clergyman's 
wife,  with  a  large  family,  cannot  afford  much. 

Mrs.  p. — He  !  he !  You  can  afford  to  be  seen  as  you  are, 
which  Lady  K.  cannot.  Did  you  not  remark  how  afraid  she 
seemed  lest  I  should  enter  her  dressing-room  >  Only  Pinhorn, 
her  maid,  goes  there,  to  arrange  the  roses,  and  the  lilies,  and 
the  figure — he !  he  !  Oh,  what  a  sweet,  sweet  cap-ribbon  !  When 
you  have  worn  it,  and  are  tired  of  it,  you  will  give  it  me,  won't 
you?     It  will  be  good  enough  for  poor  old  Martha  Prior ! 

Mrs.  B.— Do  you  really  like  it  >  Call  at  Gfeenwood  Place^ 
Mrs.  Prior,  the  next  time  you  pay  Richmond  a  visit,  and  bring 
your  little  girl  with  you,  and  we  will  see. 

Mrs.  p. — Oh,  thank  you  !  thank  you  !  Nay,  don't  be  of 
fended  !     I  must !  I  must !     [Kisses  Mrs.  Bonnington.] 

Mrs.  B. — There,  there  !  We  must  not  stay  chattering  I 
The  bell  has  rung.     I  must  go  and  put  the  cap  on,  Mrs.  Prion 


632  TUP^   WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB 

Mrs.  p. — And  I  may  come,  too  ?  You  are  not  afraid  of 
my  seeing  your  hair,  dear  Mrs.  Bonnington  !  Mr.  Bonnington 
too  young  iox  you  !    Why,  you  don't  look  twenty  ! 

Mrs.  B. — Oh,  Mrs.  Prior! 

Mrs.  p. — Well,  five-and-twenty,  upon  my  word — not  more 
than  five-and-twenty — and  that  is  the  very  prime  of  life  !  \Ex- 
eunt  Mrs.  B.  and  Mrs.  P.  liaTid  in  hand.  As  Captain  Touchit 
enters  dressed  for  dinner,  he  bo7VS  atid  passes  on."] 

Touchit. — So,  we  are  to  wear  our  white  cravats,  and  our 
varnished  boots,  and  dine  in  ceremony.  What  is  the  use  of  a 
man  being  a  widower,  if  he  can't  dine  in  his  shooting-jacket  ? 
Poor  Mill  !  He  has  the  slavery  now  without  the  wife.  \/fe 
speaks  sarcastically  to  the  picture.']  Well,  well  !  Mrs.  Milliken  ! 
You,  at  any  rate,  are  gone  ;  and,  with  the  utmost  respect  for 
you,  I  like  your  picture  even  better  than  the  original.  Miss 
Prior ! 

Enter  Miss  Prior. 

Miss  Prior. — I  beg  pardon.  I  thought  you  were  gone  to 
dinner.  I  heard  the  second  bell  some  time  since.  \_She  is 
drawing  back^ 

'Touchit. — Stop  !  I  say,  Julia  !  \^She  returns,  he  looks  at  her, 
takes  her  hand.]  Why  do  you  dress  yourself  in  this  odd  poky 
way  .■*  You  used  to  be  a  very  smartly  dressed  girl.  Why  do 
you  hide  your  hair,  and  wear  such  a  dowdy,  high  gown,  Julia  "i 

Julia. — You  mustn't  call  me  Julia,  Captain  Touchit. 

Touchit. — Why  ?  when  1  lived  in  your  mother's  lodging,  I 
called  you  Julia.  When  you  brought  ujd  the  tea,  you  didn't 
mind  being  called  Julia.  When  we  used  to  go  to  the  play  with 
the  tickets  the  Editor  gave  us,  who  lived  on  the  second 
floor 

Julia. — The  wretch  ! — don't  speak  of  him  ! 

Touchit. — Ah  !  I  am  afraid  he  was  a  sad  deceiver,  that 
Editor.  He  was  a  very  clever  fellow.  What  droll  songs  he 
used  to  sing  !  What  a  heap  of  play-tickets,  diorama-tickets, 
concert-tickets,  hg  used  to  give  you  !  Did  he  touch  your  heart, 
Julia  1 

Julia. — Fiddlededee  !  No  man  ever  touched  my  heart, 
Captain  Touchit. 

Touchit. — What !  not  even  Tom  Flight,  who  had  the 
second  floor  after  the  Editor  left  it — and  who  cried  so  bitterly 
at  the  idea  of  going  out  to  India  without  you  ?  You  had  a 
tcndre  for  him — a  little  passion — you  know  you  had.     Why, 


THE  WOL  VES  AND  THE  LAMB.  ^2>'^ 

even  the  ladies  here  know  it,  Mrs.  Bonnington  told  me  that 
you  were  waiting  for  a  sweetheart  in  India,  to  whom  you  were 
engaged  ;  and  Lady  Kicklebury  thinks  you  are  dying  in  love 
for  the  absent  swain. 

Julia. — I  hope — I  hope — you  did  not  contradict  them,  Cap- 
tain Touchit. 

ToucHiT. — Why  not,  my  dear  ? 

Julia. — May  I  be  frank  with  you  ?  You  were  a  kind,  very 
kind  friend  to  us — to  me,  in  my  youth. 

Touchit. — I  paid  my  lodgings  regularly,  and  my  bills  with- 
out asking  questions.  I  never  weighed  the  tea  in  the  caddy,  or 
counted  the  lumps  of  sugar,  or  heeded  the  rapid  consumption 
of  my  liqueur 

Julia. — Hush,  hush !  I  know  they  were  taken.  I  know 
you  were  very  good  to  us.  You  helped  my  poor  papa  out  of 
many  a  difficulty. 

Touchit  \aside\. — Tipsy  old  coal  merchant !  I  did,  and  he 
helped  himself  too. 

Julia. — And  you  were  always  our  best  friend,  Captain 
Touchit.  When  our  misfortunes  came,  you  got  me  this  situa- 
tion with  Mrs.  Milliken — and,  and — don't  you  see  ? 

Touchit — Well — what  ? 

Julia  \Iaiighmg\. — I  think  it  is  best,  under  the  circum- 
stances, that  the  ladies  here  should  suppose  I  am  engaged  to 
be  married — or — or,  they  might  be — might  be  jealous,  you  un- 
derstand. Women  are  sometimes  jealous  of  others, — especially 
mothers  and  mothers-in-law. 

Touchit. — Oh,  you  arch-schemer !  And  it  is  for  that  you 
cover  up  that  beautiful  hair  of  yours,  and  wear  that  demure 
cap  ? 

Julia  [^/v/f]. — I  am  subject  to  rheumatism  in  the  head, 
Captain  Touchit. 

Touchit. — It  is  for  that  you  put  on  the  spectacles,  and 
make  yourself  look  a  hundred  years  old  "i 

Julia. — My  eyes  are  weak,  Captain  Touchit. 

Touchit. — Weak  with  weeping  for  Tom  Flight.  You  hypo- 
crite !     Show  me  your  eyes  ? 

Miss  P. — Nonsense  1 

Touchit. — Show  me  your  eyes,  I  say,  or  I'll  tell  about  Tom 
Flight,  and  that  he  has  been  married  at  Madras  these  two 
years, 

Miss  P. — Oh,  you  horrid  man  !  \takes  glasses  off?\     There. 

Touchit.  —  Translucent  orbs  !  beams  of  flashing  light ! 
lovely  lashes  veiling  celestial   brightness  !     No,  they  haven't 


634  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

cried  much  for  Tom  Flight,  that  faithless  captain !  nor  for  Law- 
rence O'Reilly,  that  killing  Editor.  It  is  lucky  you  keep  the 
glasses  on  them,  or  they  would  transfix  Horace  Milliken,  my 
friend  the  widower  here.  Do  you  always  wear  them  when  you 
are  alone  with  him  ? 

Miss  P. — I  never  am  alone  with  him.  Bless  me  I  If  Lady 
Kicklebury  thought  my  eyes  were — well,  well — you  know  what 
I  mean, — if  she  thought  her  son-in-law  looked  at  me,  I  should 
be  turned  out  of  doors  the  next  day,  I  am  sure  I  should.  And 
then,  poor  Mr.  Milliken !  he  never  looks  at  me — heaven  help 
him  !  Why,  he  can't  see  me  for  her  ladyship's  nose  and  awful 
caps  and  ribbons !  He  sits  and  looks  at  the  portrait  yonder, 
and  sighs  so.  He  thinks  that  he  is  lost  in  grief  for  his  wife  at 
this  very  moment. 

ToucHiT. — What  a  woman  that  was — eh,  Julia — that  de 
parted  angel !     What  a  temper  she  had  before  her  departure  ! 

Miss  P. — But  the  wind  was  tempered  to  the  lamb.  If  she 
was  angry — the  lamb  was  so  very  lamblike,  and  meek,  and 
fleecy. 

ToucHiT. — And  what  a  desperate  flirt  the  departed  angel 
was  !  I  knew  half  a  dozen  fellows,  before  her  marriage,  whom 
she  threw  over,  because  Milliken  was  so  rich. 

Miss  P. — She  was  consistent  at  least,  and  did  not  change 
after  marriage,  as  some  ladies  do ;  but  flirted,  as  you  call  it, 
just  as  much  as  before.  At  Paris,  young  Mr.  Verney,  the  at- 
tach^, was  never  out  of  the  house :  at  Rome,  Mr.  Beard,  the 
artist,  was  always  drawing  pictures  of  her:  at  Naples,  when 
poor  Mr.  M.  went  away  to  look  after  his  affairs  at  St.  Peters- 
burg, little  Count  Posilippo  was  forever  coming  to  learn 
English  and  practise  duets.  She  scarcely  ever  saw  the  poor 
children — [changing  her  manner  as  Lady  Kicklebury  enters\ 
Hush — my  lady ! 

ToucHiT. — You  may  well  say,  "  poor  children,"  deprived 
of  such  a  woman !  Miss  Prior,  whom  I  knew  in  very  early 
days — as  your  ladyship  knows — was  speaking — was  speaking 
of  the  loss  our  poor  friend  sustained. 

Lady  K. — Ah,  sir,  what  a  loss  !  [looking  at  the  picture.'] 

ToucHiT. — What  a  woman  she  was — what  a  superior  crea- 
ture ! 

Lady  K. — A  creature — an  angel  1 

Touch  IT. — Mercy  upon  us  1  how  she  and  my  lady  used  to 
quarrel  1  [iiside.]     What  a  temper ! 

Lady  K. — Hm — oh,  yes — what  a  temper  [rather  doubtfully 
atjirst\ 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  g^^ 

ToucHiT.  —  What  a  loss  to  Milliken  and  the  darling 
children ! 

Miss  Prior.— Luckily  they  have  yoii  with  them,  madam. 

Lady  K. — And  I  will  stay  with  them,  Miss  Prior ;  I  will 
Stay  with  them  1  I  will  never  part  from  Horace,  I  am  de- 
termined. 

Miss  P. — Ah  i  I  am  very  glad  you  stay,  for  if  I  had  x\o\.you 
for  a  protector  I  think  you  know  I  must  go,  Lady  Kicklebury.  I 
think  you  know  there  are  those  who  would  forget  my  attach- 
ment to  these  darling  children,  my  services  to — to  her — and 
dismiss  the  poor  governess.  But  while  you  stay  I  can  stay, 
dear  Lady  Kicklebury  !  With  you  to  defend  me  from  jealousy 
I  need  not^«//6'be  afraid. 

Lady  K. — Of  Mrs.  Bonnington  ?  Of  Mr.  Milliken's  mother  ; 
of  the  parson's  wife  who  writes  out  his  stupid  sermons,  and  has 
half  a  dozen  children  of  her  own  }  I  should  think  not  indeed  ! 
/  am  the  natural  protector  of  these  children.  /  am  their 
mother,  /have  no  husband!  You  stay'va  this  house,  Miss 
Prior.  You  are  a  faithful,  attached  creature — though  you  were 
sent  in  by  somebody  I  don't  like  very  much  Sj^ointing  to 
TouCHiT,  who  went  off  laug/iing  when  Julia  began  her  speech, 
and  is  7iow  looking  at  prints,  d^r.,  in  the  next  rooni\. 

Miss  P. — Captain  Touchit  may  not  be  in  all  things  what 
one  could  wish.  But  his  kindness  has  formed  the  happiness  of 
my  life  in  making  me  acquainted  with  you,  ma'am  :  and  I  am 
sure  you  would  not  have  me  be  ungrateful  to  him. 

IvADY  K. — A  most  highly  principled  young  woman  \Goes  out 
II.  garden  and  walks  up  and  down  with  Captain  Touchit.] 

Enter  Mrs.  Bonnington. 

Miss  P. — Oh,  how  glad  I  am  you  are  come,  Mrs.  Bonning- 
ton. Have  you  brought  me  that  pretty  hymn  you  promised  me  ? 
You  always  keep  your  promises,  even  to  poor  governesses.  I 
read  dear  Mr.  Bennington's  sermon !  It  was  so  interesting  that 
I  really  could  not  think  of  going  to  sleep  until  I  had  read  it  all 
through  ;  it  was  delightful,  but  oh  !  it's  still  better  when  he 
preaches  it !  I  hope  I  did  not  do  wrong  in  copying  a  part  of  it  ? 
I  wish  to  impress  it  on  the  children.  There  are  some  worldly 
influences  at  work  with  them,  dear  madam  [looking  at  Lady 
K.  in  the  garden\  which  I  do  my  feeble  effort  to — to  modify. 
I  wish  you  could  come  oftener. 

Mrs.  B. — I  will  try,  my  dear — I  will  try.  Emily  has  swe^t 
dispositions.  i 


636  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

Mrs.  p. — Ah,  she  takes  after  her  grandmamma  Bonning- 
ton! 

Mrs.  B. — But  George  was  sadly  fractious  just  now  in  the 
schoolroom  because  I  tried  him  with  a  tract. 

Miss  P. — Let  us  hope  for  better  times  !  Do  be  with  your 
children,  dear  Mrs.  Bonnington,  as  constantly  as  ever  you  can, 
for  viy  sake  as  well  as  theirs  !  /want  protection  and  advice  as 
well  as  they  do.  The  governess,  dear  lady,  looks  up  to  you  as 
well  as  the  pupils  ;  she  wants  the  teaching  which  you  and  dear 
Mr.  Bonnington  can  give  her !  Ah,  why  could  not  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Bonnington  come  and  live  here,  I  often  think  ?  The 
children  would  have  companions  in  their  dear  young  uncles 
and  aunts  ;  so  pleasant  it  would  be.  The  house  >s  quite  large 
enough  ;  that  is,  if  her  ladyship  did  not  occupy  the  three  south 
rooms  in  the  left  wing.     Ah,  why,  why  couldn't  you  come  ? 

Mrs.  B. — You  are  a  kind,  affectionate  creature.  Miss  Prior. 
I  do  not  very  much  like  the  gentleman  who  recommended  you 
to  Arabella,  you  know.  But  I  do  think  he  sent  my  son  a  good 
governess  for  his  children. 

Two  Ladies  walk  up  and  down  in  front  garden. 

Touch  IT  enters, 

ToucHiT. — Miss  Julia  Prior,  you  are  a  wonder  !  I  watch 
you  with  respect  and  surprise. 

Miss  P. — Me  !  what  have  I  done  ?  a  poor  friendless  gover- 
ness— respect  me'i 

ToucHiT. — I  have  a  mind  to  tell  those  two  ladies  what  I 
think  of  Miss  Julia  Prior.  If  they  knew  you  as  I  know  you,  O 
Julia  Prior,  what  a  short  reign  yours  would  be ! 

Miss  P. — I  have  to  manage  them  a  little.  Each  separately 
it  is  not  so  difficult.  But  when  they  are  together,  oh,  it  is  very 
hard  sometimes. 

Enter  Milliken  dressed,  shakes  hands  with  Miss  P. 

MiLLiKEN. — Miss  Prior !  are  you  well  ?  Have  the  children 
been  good  ?  and  learned  all  their  lessons  ? 

Miss  P. — The  children  are  pretty  good,  sir. 

Milliken. — Well,  that's  a  great  deal  as  times  go.  Do  not 
bother  them  with  too  much  learning,  Miss  Prior.  Let  them 
have  an  easy  life.     Time  enough  for  trouble  when  age  comes. 

Enter  John. 
John. — Dinner,  sir.     \And  exit^^ 


THE  WOL  VES  AND  THE  LAMB  637 

MiLLiKEN. — Dinner,  ladies.  My  Lady  Kicklebury  (^givei 
arm  to  Lady  K). 

Lady  K. — My  dear  Horace,  you  shouldii't  shake  hands  with 
Miss  Prior.  You  should  keep  people  of  that  class  at  a  dis- 
tance, my  dear  creature.  \TJiey  go  in  to  dinner,  Captain  Ton- 
cnn  following  with  Mrs.  Bonnington.  As  they  go  out,  enter 
Mary  tvith  childrefi's  tea-tray,  &'c.,  children  following,  and  after 
them  Mrs.  Prior.     Mary  gives  her  tea.'] 

Mrs.  Prior. — Thank  you,  Mary  !  You  are  so  very  kind  ! 
Oh,  what  delicious  tea  ! 

Georgy. — I  say,  Mrs.  Prior,  I  dare  say  you  would  like  to 
dine  best,  wouldn't  you  ? 

Mrs.  p. — Bless  you,  my  darling  love,  I  had  my  dinner  at 
one  o'clock  with  my  children  at  home. 

Georgy. — So  had  we  :  but  we  go  in  to  dessert  very  often  ; 
and  then  don't  we  have  cakes  and  oranges  and  candied-peel 
and  macaroons  and  things  !  We  are  not  to  go  in  to-day;  be- 
cause Bella  ate  so  many  strawberries  she  made  herself  ill. 

Bella. — So  did  you. 

Georgy. — I'm  a  man,  and  men  eat  more  than  women,  twice 
as  much  as  women.  When  I'm  a  man  I'll  eat  as  much  cake  as 
ever  I  like.     I  say,  Mary,  give  us  the  marmalade. 

Mrs.  p. — Oh,  what  nice  marmalade !  /  know  of  some 
poor  children 

Miss  P. — Mamma  !  don't  mamma  [in  an  imploring  tofie\ 

Mrs.  p. — I  know  of  two  poor  children  at  home,  who  have 
very  seldom  nice  marmalade  and  cake,  young  people. 

George. — You  mean  Adolphus  and  Frederick  and  Amelia, 
your  children.     Well,  they  shall  have  marmalade  and  cake. 

Bella. — Oh,  yes!     I'll  give  them  mine. 

Mrs.  p. — Darling,  dearest  child  ! 

George  (  his  mouth  full). — I  wont  give  'em  mine  :  but  they 
can  have  another  pot,  you  know.  You  have  always  got  a 
basket  with  you,  Mr.  Prior.  I  know  you  have.  You  had  it  that 
day  you  took  the  cold  fowl. 

Mrs.  p. — For  the  poor  blind  black  man  !  oh,  how  thankful 
he  was ! 

George. — I  don't  know  whether  it  was  for  a  black  man. 
Mary,  get  us  another  pot  of  marmalade. 

Mary. — I  don't  know.  Master  George. 

George. — I  will  have  another  pot  of  marmalade.  If  you 
don't,  I'll — I'll  smash  everything — I  will. 

Bella. — Oh,  you  naughty,  rude  boy ! 

George. — Hold  your  tongue  !  I  will  have  it.  Mary  shall  go 
and  get  it. 


638  THE  WOL  VES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

Mrs.  p. — Do  humor  him,  Mary ;  and  I'm  sure  my  pool 
children  at  home  will  be  the  better  for  it. 

George. — There's  your  basket !  now  put  this  cake  in,  and 
this  pat  of  butter,  and  this  sugar.  Hurray,  hurray  !  Oh,  what 
jolly  fun  !  Tell  Adolphus  and  Amelia  I  sent  it  to  them — tell  'em 
they  shall  never  want  for  anything  as  long  as  George  Kickle- 
bury  Milliken,  Esq.,  can  give  it  'em.  Did  Adolphus  like  my 
gray  coat  that  I  didn't  want  ? 

Miss  P. — You  did  not  give  him  your  new  gray  coat .-' 

George. — Don't  you  speak  to  me ;  I'm  going  to  school — ■ 
I'm  not  going  to  have  no  more  governesses  soon. 

Mrs.  p. — Oh,  my  dear  Master  George,  what  a  nice  coat  it 
is,  and  how-well  my  poor  boy  looked  in  it  ! 

Miss  P. — Don't,  mamma !  I  pray  and  entreat  you  not  to 
take  the  things  ! 

Enter  ]om^frovi  dining-room  with  a  tray. 

John. — Some  cream,  some  jelly,  a  little  champagne.  Miss 
Prior  ;  I  thought  you  might  like  some. 

George. — Oh,  jolly  !  give  us  hold  of  the  jelly  !  give  us  a 
glass  of  champagne. 

John. — I  will  not  give  you  any. 

George. — I'll  smash  every  glass  in  the  room  if  you  don't ; 
I'll  cut  my  fingers ;  I'll  poison  myself — there!  I'll  eat  all  this 
sealing-wax  if  you  don't,  and  it's  rank  poison,  you  know  it  is. 

Mrs.  p. — My  dear  Master  George  !     \^Exit  John.] 

George. — Ha,  ha !  I  knew  you'd  give  it  me  ;  another  boy 
taught  me  that. 

Bella. — And  a  very  naughty,  rude  boy. 

George. — He,  he,  he  !  hold  your  tongue,  Miss  !  And  said 
he  always  got  wine  so  ;  and  so  I  used  to  do  it  to  my  poor  mam- 
ma. Miss  Prior.     Usedn't  to  like  mamma  much. 

Bella. — Oh,  you  wicked  boy  ! 

George. — She  usedn't  to  see  us  much.  She  used  to  say  I 
tired  her  nerves  :  what's  nerves,  Miss  Prior  ?  Give  us  some 
more  champagne  !  Will  have  it.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  ain't  it  jolly .^ 
Now  I'll  go  out  and  have  a  run  in  the  garden.  [.Runs  into 
garden'\. 

Mrs.  p. — And  you,  my  dear  ? 

Bella. — I  shall  go  and  resume  the  perusal  of  the  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress,"  which  my  grandpapa,  Mr.  Bennington,  sent  me. 
[Exit  Arabella.] 

Miss  P. — How  those  children  are  spoilt !     Goodness,  what 


THE  WOLVES  AND   THE  LAMB.  639 

can  I  do  ?  If  I  correct  one,  he  flies  to  grandmamma  Kicklebury  j 
if  I  sjDeak  to  another,  she  appeals  to  grandmamma  Bennington. 
When  I  was  alone  with  them,  I  had  them  in  something  like 
order.  Now,  between  the  one  grandmother  and  the  other,  the 
children  are  going  to  ruin,  and  so  would  the  house  too,  but  that 
Howell — that  odd,  rude,  but  honest  and  intelligent  creature,  I 
must  say — keeps  it  up.  It  is  wonderful  how  a  person  in  his 
rank  of  life  should  have  instructed  himself  so.  He  really 
knows — I  really  think  he  knows  more  than  I  do  myself. 
Mrs.  p. — Julia  dear ! 
Miss  P. — What  is  it,  mamma  ? 

Mrs.  p. — Your  little  sister  wants  some  underclothing  sadly, 
Julia  dear,  and  poor  Adolphus's  shoes  are  quite  worn  out. 

Miss   P. — I   thought  so  ;    I  have  given   you    all   I  could, 
mamma. 

Mrs.  p. — Yes,  my  love  !  you  are  a  good  love,  and  gener- 
ous, heaven  knows,  to  your  poor  old  mother  who  has  seen  bet- 
ter days.  If  we  had  not  wanted,  would  I  have  ever  allowed  you 
to  be  a  governess — a  poor  degraded  governess  ?  If  that  brute 
O'Reilly  who  lived  on  our  second  floor  had  not  behaved  so 
shamefully  wicked  to  you,  and  married  Miss  Flack,  the  singer, 
might  you  not  have  been  Editress  of  the  Champion  of  Liberty 
at  this  very  moment,  and  had  your  Opera  box  every  night  ? 
\S/ie  drinks  champagne  while  talking,  and  excites  herself \. 
Miss  P. — Don't  take  that,  mamma. 

Mrs.  p. — Don't  take  it  t  why,  it  costs  nothing  ;  Milliken 
can  afford  it.  Do  you  suppose  I  get  champagne  every  day  ?  I 
might  have  had  it  as  a  girl  when  I  first  married  your  father, 
and  we  kep'  our  gig  and  horse,  and  lived  at  Clapham,  and  had 
the  best  of  everything.  But  the  coal  trade  is  not  what  it  was, 
Julia,  and  we  met  with  misfortunes,  Julia,  and  we  went  into 
poverty  :  and  your  poor  father  went  into  the  Bench  for  twenty- 
three  months  —  two  year  all  but  a  month  he  did — and  my 
poor  girl  was  obliged  to  dance  at  the  "  Coburg  Theatre  " — 
yes,  you  were,  at  ten  shillings  a  week,  in  the  Oriental  ballet  of 
"The  Bulbul  and  the  Rose  :  "  you  were,  my  poor  darling  child. 
Miss  P. — Hush,  hush,  mamma  ! 

Mrs.  p. — And  we  kep'  a  lodging-house  in  Bury  Street,  St. 
James's,  which  your  father's  brother  furnished  for  us,  who  was 
an  extensive  oil  merchant.  He  brought  you  up  ;  and  afterwards 
he  quarrelled  with  my  poor  James,  Robert  Prior  did,  and  he 
died,  not  leaving  us  a  shilling.  And  my  dear  eldest  boy  went 
into  a  wine-merchant's  office  :  and  my  poor  darling  Julia  became 
a  governess,  when  you  had  had  the  best  of  education  at  Clap* 


640  THE  IVOL  VES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

ham ;  you  had,  Julia.     And  to  think  that  you  were  obliged,  my 
blessed  thing,  to  go  on  in  the   Oriental  ballet  of  "  The  Rose 

and  the  Bui " 

Miss  P. — Mamma,  hush,  hush  !  forget  that  story. 

Enter  Fage/rom  dining-room. 

Page. — Miss  Prior  !  please,  the  ladies  are  coming  from  the 
dining-room.  Mrs.  B.  have  had  her  two  glasses  of  port,  and 
her  ladyship  is  now  a-tellingthe  story  about  the  Prince  of  Wales 
when  she  danced  with  him  at  Carlton  House.     \Exit  Page.] 

Miss  P. — Quick,  quick !  There,  take  your  basket !  Put  on 
your  bonnet,  and  good-night,  mamma.  Here,  here  is  a  half- 
sovereign  and  three  shillings  ;  it  is  all  the  money  I  have  in  the 
world ;  take  it,  and  buy  the  shoes  for  Adolphus. 

Mrs.  p. — And  the  underclothing,  my  love — little  Amelia's 
underclothing  ? 

Miss  P. — We  will  see  about  it.  Good-night  \Jiisscs  hct-\. 
Don't  be  seen  here, — Lady  K.  doesn't  like  it. 

Enter  Gentlemen  and  'La.dies /rom  dining-room. 

Lady  K. — We  follow  the  Continental  fashion.  We  don't 
sit  after  dinner.  Captain  Touchit. 

Captain  T. — Confound  the  Continental  fashion  !  I  like  to 
sit  a  little  while  after  dinner  \_asidc\. 

Mrs.  B. — So  does  my  dear  Mr.  Bonnington,  Captain  Touch- 
it.     He  likes  a  little  port-wine  after  dinner. 

Touchit. — I'm  not  surprised  at  it,  ma'am, 

Mrs.  B. — When  did  you  say  your  son  was  coming.  Lady 
Kick  le  bury  ? 

Lady  K. — My  Clarence  !  He  will  be  here  immediately,  I 
hope,  the  dear  boy.     You  know  my  Clarence  .■* 

Touchit. — Yes,  ma'am. 

Lady  K. — And  like  him,  I'm  sure.  Captain  Touchit !  Every- 
body does  like  Clarence  Kicklebury. 

Touchit. — The  confounded  young  scamp!  I  say,  Horace, 
do  you  like  your  brother-in-law  ? 

MiLLiKEN. — Well — I — I  can't  say — I — like  him — in  fact,  I 
don't.  But  that's  no  reason  why  his  mother  shouldn't.  \Duri?ig 
this,  Howell  preceded  by  Bulkeley,  hands  round  coffee.  The 
garden  7vithout  has  darkened,  as  of  evening.  Bulkeley  is  going 
away  iviihout  offering  coffee  to  Miss  Prior.  John  stamps  on  his 
foot,  and  points  to  her.  Captain  Touchit  laughing,  goes  2ip  and 
talks  to  her  notv  the  servants  are  gone.J 


THE  WOL  VES  AND  THE  LAMB.  641 

Mrs.  B. — Horace  !  I  must  tell  you  that  the  waste  at  your 
table  is  shocking.  What  is  the  need  of  opening  all  this  wine  ? 
You  and  Lady  Kicklebury  were  the  only  persons  who  took 
champagne. 

ToucHiT. — I  never  drink  it — never  touch  the  rubbish  !  Too 
old  a  stager  ! 

Lady  K. — Port,  I  think,  is  your  favorite,  Mrs.  Bennington  ? 

INIrs.  B. — My  dear  lady,  I  do  not  mean  that  you  should  not 
have  champagne,  if  you  like.  Pray,  pray,  don't  be  angry  !  But 
why  on  earth,  for  you,  who  take  so  little,  and  Horace,  who  only 
drinks  it  to  keep  you  company,  should  not  Howell  open  a  pint 
instead  of  a  great  large  bottle  ? 

Lady  K. — Oh,  Howell !  Howell !  We  must  not  mention 
Howell,  my  dear  Mrs.  Bonnington.  Howell  is  faultless.  Howell 
has  the  keys  of  everything  !  Howell  is  not  to  be  controlled  in 
anything  !     Howell  is  to  be  at  liberty  to  be  rude  to  m}^  servant ! 

MiLLiKEN. — Is  that  all  ?  I  am  sure  I  should  have  thought 
your  man  was  big  enough  to  resent  any  rudeness  from  poor  little 
Howell. 

Lady  K. — Horace  !  Excuse  me  for  saying  that  you  don't 
know — the — the  class  of  servant  to  whom  Bulkelev  belongs.  I 
had  him,  as  a  great  favor,  from  Lord  Toddleby.  That  class  of 
servant  is  accustomed  generally  not  to  go  out  single. 

MiLLiKEN. — Unless  they  are  two  behind  a  carriage-perch 
they  pine  away,  as  one  love-bird  does  without  his  mate  ! 

Lady  K. — No  doubt !  no  doubt !  I  only  say  you  are  not 
accustomed  here — in  this  kind  of  establishment,  you  understand 
■ — to  that  class  of 

Mrs.  B. — Lady  Kicklebury !  is  my  son's  establishment  not 
good  enough  for  any  powdered  monster  in  England  ?  Is  the 
house  of  a  British  merchant .'' 

Lady  K. — My  dear  creature  !  my  dear  creature  !  it  is  the 
house  of  a  British  merchant,  and  a  very  comfortable  house. 

Mrs.  B. — Yes,  as  you  find  it. 

Lady  K. — Yes,  as  I  find  it,  when  I  come  to  take  care  of 
my  departed  angel's  children,  Mrs.  Bonnington — \_poi71tmg  to 
picture] — of  that  dear  seraph's  orphans,  Mrs.  Bonnington.  You 
cannot.  You  have  other  duties — other  children — a  husband 
at  home  in  delicate  health,  who 

Mrs.  B. — Lady  Kicklebury,  no  one  shall  say  I  don't  take 
care  of  my  dear  husband  ! 

Milliken. — My  dear  mother  !  My  dear  Lady  Kicklebury ! 
[To  T.,  who  has  come  forward.']  They  spar  so  every  night  thejl 
meet,  Touchit.     Ain't  it  hard  ? 


6^2  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

Lady  K. — I  say  you  do  take  care  of  Mr.  Bonnington,  Mrs., 
Bonnington,  my  dear  creature  !  and  that  is  why  you  can't  attend 
to  Horace.  And  as  he  is  of  a  very  easy  temper — except  some- 
times with  his  poor  Arabella's  mother — he  allows  all  his  trades- 
men to  cheat  him,  all  his  servants  to  cheat  him,  Howell  to  be 
rude  to  everybody — to  me  amongst  other  people,  and  why  not 
to  my  servant  Bulkeley,  with  whom  Lord  Toddleby's  groom  of 
the  chambers  gave  me  the  very  highest  character, 

Mrs.  B. — I'm  surprised  that  noblemen  have  gxooxwa  in  their 
chambers.  I  should  think  they  were  much  better  in  the  stables. 
I  am  sure  I  always  think  so  when  we  dine  with  Doctor  Clinker. 
His  man  does  bring  such  a  smell  of  the  stable  with  him. 

Lady  K. — He  !  he  !  you  mistake,  my  dearest  creature ! 
Your  poor  mother  mistakes,  my  good  Horace.  You  have  lived 
in  a  quiet  and  most  respectable  sphere— but  not — not 

Mrs.  B. — Not  what.  Lady  Kicklebury  ?  We  have  lived  at 
Kichmond  twenty  years — in  my  late  husband's  lime — when  we 
saw  a  great  deal  of  company,  and  when  this  dear  Horace  was 
a  dear  boy  at  Westminster  School.  And  we  have  paid  for 
everything  we  have  had  for  twenty  years,  and  we  have  owed 
not  a  penny  to  any  tradesman,  though  we  mayn't  have  had 
powdered  footmen  six  feet  high,  who  were  impertinent  to  all  the 
maids  in  the  place Don't!  \  will  speak,  Horace — but  ser- 
vants \vho  loved  us,  and  who  lived  in  our  families. 

MiLLiKEN. — Mamma,  now,  my  dear,  good  old  mother !  I 
am  sure  Lady  Kicklebury  meant  no  harm. 

Lady  K. — Me  !  my  dear  Horace  !  harm  !  What  harm 
could  I  mean  ? 

MiLLiKEN. — Come  !  let  us  have  a  game  at  whist.  Touchit, 
will  you  make  a  fourth  ?  They  go  on  so  every  night  almost. 
Ain't  it  a  pity,  now  ? 

Touchit. — Miss  Prior  generally  plays,  doesn't  she  ? 

MiLLiKEN. — And  a  very  good  player,  too.  But  I  thought 
you  might  lik'e  it. 

Touchit. — Well,  not  exactly.  I  don't  like  sixpenny  points, 
Horace,  or  quarrelling  with  old  dragons  about  the  odd  trick. 
I  will  go  and  smoke  a  cigar  on  the  terrace,  and  contemplate 
the  silver  Thames,  the  darkling  woods,  the  starry  hosts  of 
heaven.  I — I  like  smoking  better  than  playing  whist.  [Mil- 
liken  rings  /'(.7/.] 

Milliken. — Ah,  George  !  you're  not  fit  for  domestic  fe« 
licity. 

Touchit. — No,  not  exactly. 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  643 

Howell  enters. 

MiLLiKEN. — Lights  and  a  whist-table.  Oh,  I  see  you  bring 
'em.  You  know  everything  I  want.  He  knows  everything  I 
want,  Howell  does.  Let  us  cut.  Miss  Prior,  you  and  I  are 
partners  ! 


ACT  IL 

Scene.— ^i-  before. 

Lady  K. — Don't  smoke,  you  naughty  boy.  1  don't  like  it. 
Besides  it  will  encourage  your  brother-in-law  to  smoke. 

Clarence  K,— Anything  to  oblige  you,  I'm  sufe.  But 
can't  do  without  it,  mother ;  it's  good  for  my  health.  When  I 
was  in  the  Plungers,  our  doctor  used  to  say,  "You  ought  never 
to  smoke  more  than  eight  cigars  a  day  "—-an  order,  you  know, 
to  do  it — don't  you  see  ? 

Lady  K. — Ah,  my  child  !  I  am  very  glad  you  are  not  with 
those  unfortunate  people  in  the  East. 

K.— So  am  I.  Sold  out  just  in  time.  Much  better  fun 
being  here,  than  having  the  cholera  at  Scutari.  Nice  house, 
Milliken's.  Snob,  but  good  fellow — good  cellar,  doosid  good 
cook.  Really  that  salmi  3^esterday, — couldn't  have  it  better 
done  at  the  "  Rag "  now.  You  have  got  into  good  quarters 
here,  mother. 

Lady  K. — The  meals  are  very  good,  and  the  house  is  very 
good  ;  the  manners  are  not  of  the  first  order.  But  what  can 
you  expect  of  city  people  ?  I  always  told  your  poor  dear  sister, 
when  she  married  Mr.  Milliken,  that  she  might  look  for  every- 
thing substantial,  —  but  not  manners.  Poor  dear  Arabella 
would  m^rry  him. 

K. — -Would  !  that  is  a  good  one,  mamma  !  Why,  you  made 
her !  It's  a  dozen  years  ago.  But  I  recollect,  when  I  came 
home  from  Eton,  seeing  her  crying  because  Charley  Tufton • 

Lady  K. — Mr.  Tufton  had  not  a  shilling  to  bless  himself 
with.     The  marriage  was  absurd  and  impossible. 

K. — He  hadn't  a  shilling  then.  I  guess  he  has  plenty  now. 
Elder  brother  killed,  out  hunting.  Father  dead.  Tuf  a  baro- 
V\tt,  with  four  thousand  a  year  if  he's  a  shilling. 


t)44 


THE  IVOL  VES  AND  THE  LAMB. 


Lady  K. — Not  so  much. 

K.— Four  thousand  if  it's  a  shilling.  Why,  the  property 
adjoins  Kicklebury's — I  ought  to  know,  I've  shot  over  it  a 
thousand  times.  Heh  !  /  remember,  when  I  was  quite  a  young 
•'un,  how  Arabella  used  to  go  out  into  Tufton  Park  to  meet 
Charley— and  he  is  a  doosid  good  fellow,  and  a  gentlemanlike 
fellow,  and  a  doosid  deal  better  than  this  city  fellow. 

Lady  K. — If  you  don't  like  this  city  fellow,  Clarence,  why 
do  you  come  here  ?  why  didn't  you  stop  with  your  elder  brother 
at  Kicklebury  ? 

K. — Why  didn't  I  ?  Why  didn't  yon  stop  at  Kicklebury, 
mamma  .''  Because  you  had  notice  to  quit.  Serious  daughter- 
in-law,  quarrels  about  management  of  the  house — row  in  the 
building.  My  brother  interferes,  and  politely  requests  mamma 
to  shorten  her  visit.  So  it  is  with  your  other  two  daughters  ; 
so  it  was  with  Arabella  when  she  was  alive.  What  sliindies 
you  used  to  have  with  her.  Lady  Kicklebury  !  Heh  !  I  had  a 
row  with  my  brother  and  sister  about  a  confounded  little 
nursery-maid. 

Lady  K. — -Clarence  ! 

K.— And  so  I  had  notice  to  quit  too.  And  I'm  in  very 
good  quarters  here,  and  I  intend  to  stay  in  'em,  mamma.  I 
say 

Lady  K. — What  do  you  say. 

K.— Since  I  sold  out,  you  know,  and  the  regiment  went 
abroad,  confound  me,  the  brutes  at  the  "  Rag "  will  hardly 
speak  to  me  !  I  was  so  ill  I  couldn't  go.  Who  the  doose  can 
live  the  life  I've  led  and  keep  health  enough  for  that  infernal 
Crimea  ?  Besides,  how  could  I  help  it  ?  I  was  so  cursedly  in 
debt  that  I  was  obliged  to  have  the  money,  you  know.  You 
hadn't  got  any. 

Lady  K. — Not  a  halfpenny,  my  darling.  I  am  dreadfully 
in  debt  myself. 

K. — I  know  you  are.  So  am  I.  My  brother  wouldn't  give 
me  any,  rot  a  dump.  Hang  him  !  Said  he  had  his  children  to 
look  to.  Milliken  wouldn't  advance  me  any  more — said  I  did 
him  in  that  horse  transaction.  He  1  he  !  he  !  so  I  did  !  What 
had  I  to  do  but  to  sell  out  ?  And  the  fellows  cut  me,  by  Jove. 
Ain't  it  too  bad  ?  I'll  take  my  name  off  the  "  Rag,"  I  will, 
though. 

Lady  K. — We  must  sow  our  wild  oats,  and  we  must  sober 
down  ;  and  we  must  live  here,  where  the  living  is  very  good 
and  \ery  cheap,  Clarence,  you  naughty  boy  !  And  we  must 
get  you  a  rich  wife.     Did  you  see  at  church  yesterday  that 


THE  WOL  VES  AND   THE  LAMB.  645 

young  woman  in  light-green,  with  rather  red  hair  and  a  pink- 
bonnet  ? 

K. — I  was  asleep,  ma'am,  most  of  the  time,  or  I  was  bookin' 
up  the  odds  for  the  Chester  Cup.  When  I'm  bookin'  up,  I 
think  of  nothin'  else,  ma'am,  nothin'. 

Lady  K. — -That  was  Miss  Brocksopp — Briggs,  Brown  and 
Brocksopp,  the  great  sugar-bakers.  They  say  she  will  have 
eighty  thousand  pound.     We  will  ask  her  to  dinner  here. 

K. — I  say — why  the  doose  do  you  have  such  old  women  to 
dinner  here  .''  Why  don't  you  get  some  pretty  girls  .-'  Such  a 
set  of  confounded  old  frumps  as  eat  Milliken's  mutton  I  never 
saw.  There's  you,  and  his  old  mother  Mrs.  Bonnington,  and 
old  Mrs.  Fogram,  and  old  Miss  What's-her-name,  the  woman 
with  the  squint  eye,  and  that  immense  Mrs.  Crowder.  It's  so 
stoopid,  that  if  it  weren't  for  Touchit  coming  down  sometimes, 
and  the  billiards  and  boatin',  I  should  die  here — expire,  by  gad  ! 
Why  don't  you  have  some  pretty  women  into  the  house,  Lady 
Kicklebury  ? 

Lady  K. — Why  !  Do  you  think  I  want  that  picture  taken 
down  :  and  another  Mrs.  Milliken  ?  Wisehead  !  If  Horace 
married  again,  would  he  be  your  banker,  and  keep  this  house, 
now  that  ungrateful  son  of  mine  has  turned  me  out  of  his  ? 
No  prettv  woman  shall  come  into  the  house  whilst  I  am  here. 

K. — Governess  seems  a  pretty  woman  :  weak  eyes,  bad 
figure,  poky,  badly  dressed,  but  doosid  pretty  woman. 

Lady  K. — Bah  !  There  is  no  danger  from  her.  She  is  a 
most  faithful  creature,  attached  to  me  beyond  everything.  And 
her  eyes — her  eyes  are  weak  with  crying  for  some  young  man 
who  is  in  India.  She  has  his  miniature  in  her  room,  locked  up 
in  one  of  her  drawers. 

K. — Then  how  the  doose  did  you  come  to  see  it  ? 

Lady  K. — We  see  a  number  of  things,  Clarence.  Will  you 
drive  with  me  ? 

K. — Not  as  I  knows  on,  thank  you.  No,  Ma ;  drivin's  too 
slow :  and  you're  goin'  to  call  on  two  or  three  old  dowagers  in 
the  Park  ?     Thank  your  ladyship  for  the  delightful  offer. 

Ejitcr  John. 

John. — Please,  sir,  here's  the  man  with  the  bill  for  the 
boats  ;  two  pound  three. 

K. — Damn  it,  pay  it — don't  bother  me  ! 

John. — Haven't  got  the  money,  sir. 

Lady  K. — Howell !  I  saw  Mr,  Milliken  give  you  a  checH 


646  THE   WOL  VES  AND   THE  LAMB. 

for  twenty-five  pounds  before  he  went  into  town  this  morning. 
Look,  sir  S^ncns,  opens  the  drawer,  takes  out  check-book\  There 
it  is,  marked,  "  Howell,  25/." 

John. — Would  your  ladyship  like  to  step  down  into  my 
pantry  and  see  what  I've  paid  with  the  twenty-five  pounds? 
Did  my  master  leave  any  orders  that  your  ladyship  was  to 
inspect  my  accounts  ? 

Lady  K. — Step  down  into  the  pantry  !  inspect  your  ac- 
counts ?  I  never  heard  such  impertinence.  What  do  you 
mean,  sir  ? 

K. — Dammy,  sir,  what  do  you  mecia? 

John. — I  thought  as  her  ladyship  kept  a  heye  over  my 
master's  private  book,  she  might  like  to  look  at  mine  too. 

Lady  K. — Upon  my  word,  this  insolence  is  too  much. 

John. — I  beg  your  ladyship's  pardon.  I  am  sure  I  have  said 
nothing. 

K. — Said,  sir  !  your  manner  is  mutinous,  by  Jove,  sir  !  If  I 
had  you  in  the  regiment ! 

John. — I  understood  that  you  had  left  the  regiment,  sir, 
just  before  it  went  on  the  campaign,  sir. 

K. — Confound  you,  sir  !     \Starts  up?\ 

Lady  K. — Clarence,  my  child,  my  child  ! 

John. — Your  ladyship  needn't  be  alarmed  ;  I'm  a  little  man, 
my  lady,  but  I  don't  think  Mr.  Clarence  was  a-goin'  for  to  hit 
me,  my  lady ;  not  before  a  lady,  I'm  sure.  I  suppose,  sir,  that 
you  zvont  pay  the  boatman.'' 

K. — No,  sir,  I  won't  pay  him,  nor  any  man  who  uses  this 
sort  of  damned  impertinence  ! 

John, — I  told  Rullocks,  sir,  I  thought  it  was  just  possible 
you  wouldn't.     \Exit^ 

K. — That's  a  nice  man,  that  is — an  impudent  villain  ! 

Lady  K. — Ruined  by  Horace's  weakness.  He  ruins  every- 
body, poor  good-natured  Horace  ! 

K. — Why  don't  you  get  rid  of  the  blackguard  ? 

Lady  K. — There  is  a  time  for  all  things,  my  dear.  This 
man  is  very  convenient  to  Horace,  Mr.  Milliken  is  exceedingly 
lazy,  and  Howell  spares  him  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  Some 
day  or  other  I  shall  take  all  this  domestic  trouble  off  his  hands. 
But  not  yet :  your  poor  biother-in-lawis  restive,  like  many  weak 
men.  He  is  subjected  to  other  influences :  his  odious  mother 
thwarts  me  a  great  deal. 

K — Why,  you  used  to  be  the  dearest  friends  in  the  world. 
I  recollect  when  I  was  at  Eton 

Lady  K. — Were;  but  friendship  don't  last   forever.     Mrs. 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  647 

Bonnington  and  I  have  had  s-erious  differences  suice  I  came  to 
live  here  :  she  has  a  natural  jealousy,  perhaps,  at  my  superin- 
tending her  son's  affairs.  When  she  ceases  to  visit  at  the 
house,  as  she  very  possibly  will,  things  will  go  more  easily; 
and  INIr.  Howell  will  go  too,  you  may  depend  upon  it.  I  am 
always  sorry  when  my  temper  breaks  out,  as  it  will  sometimes. 

K.— Won't  it,  thaVs  all  ! 

Lady  K. —  At  his  insolence,  my  temper  is  high ;  so  is 
yours,  my  dear.  Calm  it  for  the  present,  especially  as  regards 
Howell. 

K. — Gad  !  d'you  know  I  was  very  nearly  pitching  into  him  ? 
But  once,  one  night  in  the  Haymarket,  at  a  lobster-shop,  where 
I  was  with  some  fellows,  we  chaffed  some  other  fellows,  and 
there  was  one  fellah — quite  a  little  fellah — and  I  pitched  into 
him,  and  he  gave  me  the  most  confounded  lickin'  I  ever  had  in 
my  life,  since  my  brother  Kicklebury  licked  me  when  we  were 
at  Eton  ;  and  that,  you  see,  was  a  lesson  to  me,  ma'am.  Never 
trust  those  little  fellows,  never  chaff  'em  :  dammy,  they  may  be 
boxers. 

Lady  K. — You  quarrelsome  boy  !  I  remember  you  coming 
home  with  your  naughty  head  so  bruised.  \Looks  at  wafch^\ 
I  must  go  now  to  take  my  drive.     \^Exit  Lady  K.] 

K. — I  owe  a  doose  of  a  tick  at  that  billiard-room  ;  I  shall 
have  that  boatman  dunnin'  me.  Why  hasn't  Milliken  got  any 
horses  to  ride  1  Hang  him  !  suppose  he  can't  ride — suppose 
he's  a  tailor.  He  ain't  my  tailor  though,  though  I  owe  him  a 
doosid  deal  of  money.  There  goes  mamma  with  that  darling 
nephew  and  niece  of  mine.  [Enter  Bulkeley.]  Why  haven't 
you  gone  with  my  lady,  you,  sir  ?  [to  Bulkeley\. 

Bulkeley. — My  lady  have  a-took  the  pony-carriage,  sir ; 
Mrs.  Bonnington  have  a-took  the  hopen  carriage  and  'orses,  sir, 
this  mornin',  which  the  Bishop  of  London  is  'olding  a  confir- 
mation at  Teddington,  sir,  and  Mr.  Bonnington  is  attending  the 
serimony.  And  I  have  told  Mr,  'Owell,  sir,  that  my  lady  would 
prefer  the  hopen  carriage,  sir,  which  I  like  the  hexercise  my- 
self, sir,  and  that  the  pony-carriage  was  good  enough  for  Mrs. 
Bonnington,  sir  ;  and  Mr.  'Owell  was  very  hinsolent  to  me,  sir  j 
and  I  don't  think  I  can  stay  in  the  'ouse  with  him. 

K. — Hold  your  jaw,  sir. 

Bulkeley. — Yes,  sir.     [Exit  Bulkeley.] 

K. — I  wonder  who  that  governess  is? — sang  rather  pretty 
last  night — wish  she'd  come  and  sing  now — wish  she'd  come 
and  amuse  me — I've  seen  her  face  before — where  have  I  seen 
her  face  ? — it  ain't  at  all  a  bad  one.     What  shall  I  do  ?  dammy, 


648  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMS. 

I'll  read  a  book  :  I've  not  read  a  book  this  ever  so  long. 
What's  here  ?  \looks  amongst  books,  selects  one,  sinks  down  i7i  easy 
chair  so  as  quite  to  beIost\. 

Enter  Miss  Prior. 

Miss  Prior. — There's  peace  in  the  house  !  those  noisy 
children  are  away  with  their  grandmamma.  The  weather  is 
beautiful,  and  I  hope  they  will  take  a  long  drive.  Now  I  can 
have  a  quiet  half-hour,  and  finish  that  dear  pretty  "  Ruth  "— 
oh,  how  it  makes  me  cry,  that  pretty  story,  \Lays  down  her 
bonnet  on  tabk—goes  to  glass — takes  off  cap  and  spectacles — • 
arranges  her  hair^-Clarence  has  got  on  chair  lookifig  at  her^ 

K.— By  Jove  !  I  know  who  it  is  now  !  Remember  her  as 
well  as  possible.  Four  years  ago,  when  little  Foxbury  used  to 
dance  in  the  ballet  over  the  water.  Don't  I  remember  her ! 
She  boxed  my  ears  behind  the  scenes,  by  jingo.  [Coming  for- 
ward^ Miss  Pemberton  !  Star  of  the  ballet !  Light  of  the 
harem  !  Don't  you  remember  the  grand  Oriental  ballet  of  the 
"  Bulbul  and  the  Peri  ?  " 

Miss  P.  Oh  !  [screanis.1  No,  n — no,  sir.  You  are  mis- 
taken ;  my  name  is  Prior.  I — never  was  at  the  "  Coburg 
Theatre."     I— 

K.  [seizing  her  ha?id.'\ — No,  you  don't,  though  !  What ! 
don't  you  remember  well  that  little  hand  slapping  this  face  ? 
which  nature  hadn't  then  adorned  with  whiskers,  by  gad  !  You 
pretend  you  have  forgotten  little  Foxbury,  whom  Charley  Cal- 
verley  used  to  come  after,  and  who  used  to  drive  to  the 
*'  Coburg"  every  night  in  her  brougham.  How  did  you  know 
it  was  the  "  Coburg .?  "  That  is  a  good  one  !  Had  you  there, 
I  think. 

Miss  P. — -Sir,  in  the  name  of  heaven,  pity  me  !  I  have  to 
keep  my  mother  and  my  sisters  and  my  brothers.  When — • 
when  you  saw  me,  we  were  in  great  poverty ;  and  almost  all 
the  wretched  earnings  I  made  at  that  time  were  given  to  my 
poor  father  then  lying  in  the  Queen's  Bench  hard  by.  You 
know  there  was  nothing  against  my  character — you  know  there 
vas  not.  Ask  Captain  Touchit  whether  I  was  not  a  good 
girl.     It  was  he  who  brought  me  to  this  house. 

K. — Touchit !  the  old  villain  ! 

Miss  P. — I  had  your  sister's  confidence.  I  tended  her 
abroad  on  her  death-bed.  I  have  brought  up  your  nephew  and 
niece.  Ask  any  one  if  I  have  not  been  honest  ?  As  a  man, 
as  a  gentleman,  I  entreat  you  to  keep  ray  secret !  I  implore 
you  for  the  sake  of  my  poor  mother  and  her  children  !  [k?iceling.'] 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  649' 

K.- — By  Jove  !  how  handsome  you  are  !  How  crying  be- 
comes your  eyes  !  Get  up  ;  get  up.  Of  course  I'll  keep  your 
secret,  but 

Miss  P. — Ah  !  ah  !  \Shc  screams  as  he  tries  to  embrace  her. 
Howell  ?-ushes  m.^ 

Howell.— Hands  off,  you  little  villain  !  Stir  a  step,  and 
I'll  kill  3'ou,  if  you  were  a  regiment  of  captains  !  What !  insult 
this  lady  who  kept  watch  at  your  sister's  death-bed  and  has 
took  charge  of  her  children  I  Don't  be  frightened.  Miss  Prior, 
Julia — dear,  dear  Julia — I'm  by  you.  If  the  scoundrel  touches 
you,  I'll  kill  him.  I — I  love  you— there — it's  here— love  you 
madly — with  all  my  'art — my  a-heart ! 

Miss  P.— Howell — for  heaven's  sake,  Howell  ! 

K. — Pooh — ooh  !  \lncrsting  laith  laughter\  Here's  a  novel, 
by  jingo  !  Here's  John  in  love  with  the  governess.  Fond  of 
plush,  Miss  Pemberton — -ey  ?  Gad,  it's  the  best  thing  I  ever 
knew.  Saved  a  good  bit,  ey,  Jeames  ?  Take  a  public-house  ? 
By  Jove  !  I'll  buy  my  beer  there. 

John. — 'Owe  for  it,  you  mean.  I  don't  think  your  tradesmen 
profit  much  by  your  custom,  ex-Cornet  Kicklebury. 

K. — -By  Jove  !  I'll  do  for  you,  you  villain  ! 

John.— No,  not  that  way,  Cajotain.  [Struggles  with  and 
throius  hitn.^ 

K. — [screams^ — Hallo,  Bulkeley  !  \Bulkeley  is  seen  strolling 
in  the  garden. "l 

Enter  Bulkeley. 

Bulkeley. — What  is  it,  sir  1 

K. — Take  this  confounded  villain  off  me,  and  pitch  him  into 
the  Thames — do  you  hear? 

John. — Come  here,  and  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your 
hulking  body.     \_To  Bulkeley.] 

Bulkeley. — Come,  come  !  what  hever  his  hall  this  year  row 
about  ? 

Miss  P. — For  heaven's  sake,  don't  strike  that  poor  man. 

Bulkeley. — •  You  be  quiet.  What's  he  a-hittin'  about  my 
master  for  ? 

John. — -Take  off  your  hat,  sir,  when  you  speak  to  a  lady. 
[Takes  up  a  poker. ^  And  now  come  on  both  of  you,  cowards  ! 
[Rushes  at  Bulkeley  and  laiocks  his  hat  off  his  hcad^ 

Bulkeley  [stepping  bacJi\. — If  you'll  put  down  that  there 
poker,  you  know,  then  I'll  pitch  into  you  fast  enough.  But 
that  there  poker  ain't  fair,  you  know. 

K. — You  villain  !  of  course  you  will  leave  this  house.     And, 


650  THE  WOL  VES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

Miss  Prior,  I  think  you  understand  that  you  will  go  too.  I  don^i 
think  my  niece  wants  to  learn  dancin\  you  understand.  Good< 
by.     Here,  Bulkeley  !     \Gets  behind  footman  and  exit?\^ 

Miss  P. — Do  you  know  the  meaning  of  that  threat,  Mr. 
Howell  ? 

John. — Yes,  Miss  Prior, 

Miss  P. — 1  was  a  dancer  once,  for  three  months,  four  years 
ago,  when  my  poor  father  was  in  prison. 

John. — Yes,  Miss  Prior,  I  knew  it.  And  I  saw  you  a  many 
times. 

Miss  P. — And  you  kept  my  secret  ? 

John. — Yes,  Ju— Jul— Miss  Prior. 

Miss  P. — Thank  you,  and  God  bless  you,  John  HowelL 
There,  there.     You  mustn't !  indeed,  you  mustn't ! 

John.— You  don't  remember  the  printer's  boy  who  used  to 
come  to  Mr.  O'Reilly,  and  sit  in  your  'all  in  Bury  Street,  Miss 
Prior  ?  I  was  that  boy.  I  was  a  country-bred  boy — that  is  if 
you  call  Putney  country,  and  Wimbledon  Common  and  that. 
I  serv-ed  the  Milliken  family  seven  years.  I  went  with  Master 
Horace  to  college,!  and  then  I  revolted  against  service,  and  I 
thought  I'd  be  a  man  and  turn  printer  like  Doctor  Frankling, 
And  I  got  in  an  office  :  and  I  wentwith  proofs  to  Mr.  O'Reilly, 
and  I  saw  you.  And  though  I  might  have  been  in  love  with 
somebody  else  before  I  did — yet  it  was  all  hup  when  I  saw 
you. 

Miss  P.  [kindly^ — You  must  not  talk  to  me  in  that  way, 
John  Howell. 

John. — Let's  tell  the  tale  out.  I  couldn't  stand  the  news- 
paper night-work.  I  had  a  mother  and  brother  and  sisters  to 
keep,  as  you  had.  I  went  back  to  Horace  Milliken  and  said, 
Sir,  I've  lost  my  work.  I  and  mine  want  bread.  Will  you 
take  me  back  again  ?  And  he  did.  He's  a  kind,  kind  soul  is 
my  master. 

Miss  P. — He  is  a  kind,  kind  soul. 

John. — He's  good  to  all  the  poor.  His  hand's  in  his  pocket 
for  everybody.  Everybody  takes  advantage  of  him.  His 
mother-in-lor  rides  over  him.  So  does  his  Ma.  So  do  I,  I 
may  say ;  but  that's  over  now ;  and  you  and  I  have  had  our 
notice  to  quit,  Miss,  I  should  say. 

Miss  P. — Yes. 

John. — I  have  saved  a  bit  of  money — not  much — a  hun- 
dred pound.  Miss  Prior— Julia — here  1  am — look — I'm  a  poor 
feller — a  poor  servant — but  I've  the  heart  of  a  man — and— -I 
love  3'ou — oh  !  I  love  you  ! 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  651 

Mary. — Oh — ho — ho  !  \Mary  has  ejitered  fro7n  garden,  aiul 
bursts  out  cryitig?^ 

Miss  P. — It  can't  be,  John  Howell — my  dear,  brave,  kind 
John  Howell.  It  can't  be.  I  have  watched  this  for  some  time 
past,  and  poor  Mary's  despair  here.  \Kisses  Mary,  who  cries 
plentifully^  You  have  the  heart  of  a  true,  brave  man,  and 
must  show  it  and  prove  it  now.  I  am  not — am  not  of  your — 
pardon  me  for  saying  so — of  your  class  iu  life.  I  was  bred  by 
my  uncie,  away  from  my  poor  parents,  though  I  came  back  to 
them  after  his  sudden  death  ;  and  to  poverty,  and  to  this  de- 
pendent life  I  am  now  leading.  I  am  a  servant,  like  you,  John, 
but  in  another  sphere — have  to  seek  another  place  now ;  and 
heaven  knows  if  I  shall  procure  one,  now  that  that  unlucky 
passage  in  my  life  is  known.  Oh,  the  coward  to  recall  it !  the 
coward  ! 

Mary, — But  John  whopped  him.  Miss !  that  he  did.  He 
gave  it  to  him  well,  John  did.     \Crying?\ 

Miss  P. — You  can't — you  ought  not  to  forego  an  attach- 
ment like  that,  John  Howell.  A  more  honest  and  true-hearted 
creature  never  breathed  than  Mary  Barlow. 

John. — No,  indeed. 

Miss  P. — She  has  loved  you  since  she  was  a  little  child. 
And  you  loved  her  once,  and  do  now,  John. 

Mary. — Oh,  Miss  !  you  hare  a  hangel, — I  hallways  said  you 
weie  a  hangel. 

Miss  P. — You  are  better  than  I  am,  my  dear — much,  much 
6etter  than  I  am,  John.  The  curse  of  my  poverty  has  been 
that  I  have  had  to  flatter  and  to  dissemble,  and  hide  the  faults 
of  those  I  wanted  to  help,  and  to  smile  when  I  was  hurt,  and 
laugh  when  I  was  sad,  and  to  coax,  and  to  tack,  and  to  bide 
my  time, — not  with  Mr.  Milliken  :  he  is  all  honor,  and  kind- 
ness, and  simplicity.  Who  did  he  ever  injure,  or  what  unkind 
word  did  he  ever  say  ?  But  do  you  think,  with  the  jealousy  of 
those  poor  ladies  over  his  house,  I  could  have  stayed  here 
without  being  a  hypocrite  to  both  of  them  ?  Go,  John.  My 
good,  dear  friend,  John  Howell,  marry  Mary.  You'll  be  hap- 
pier with  her  than  with  me.     There  !    There  !     \They  embrace?^ 

Mary. — O — o — o  !  I  think  I'll  go  and  hiron  hout  Miss 
Harabella's  frocks  now.     \Exit  Mary.] 

Mnter   Milliken  with  Clarence — who  is  explaining  things  to 

him. 

Clarence. — Here  they  are,  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor. 
Ask  'em,  damn  'em.  42 


652  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

MiLLiKEN. — What  is  this  I  hear?  You,  John  Howell,  have 
dared  to  strike  a  gentleman  under  my  roof !  Your  master's 
brother-in-law  ? 

John. — Yes,  by  Jove  !  and  I'd  do  it  again. 

MiLLiKEN. — Are  you  drunk  or  mad,  Howell  ? 

John. — I'm  as  sober  and  as  sensible  as  ever  I  was  in  my 
life,  sir — I  not  only  struck  the  master,  but  I  struck  the  man, 
who's  twice  as  big,  only  not  quite  as  big  a  coward,  I  think. 

MiLLiKEN. — Hold  your  scurrilous  tongue,  sir  !  My  good 
nature  ruins  everybody  about  me.  Make  up  your  accounts. 
Pack  your  trunks — and  never  let  me  see  your  face  again. 

John. — Very  good,  sir. 

MiLLiKEN. — I  suppose,  Miss  Prior,  you  will  also  be  disjDOsed 
to — to  follow  Mr.  Howell  ? 

Miss  P. — To  quit  you,  now  you  know  what  has  passed.''  I 
never  supposed  it  could  be  otherwise — I  deceived  you,  Mr. 
Milliken — as  I  kept  a  secret  from  you,  and  must  pay  the  pen- 
alty. It  is  a  relief  to  me,  the  sword  has  been  hanging  over  me. 
I  wish  I  had  told  your  poor  wife,  as  I  was  often  minded  to  do. 

Milliken. — Oh,  you  were  minded  to  do  it  in  Italy,  were 
you  ? 

Miss  P. — Captain  Touchit  knew  it,  sir,  all  along :  and  that 
my  motives  and,  thank  God,  my  life  were  honorable. 

Milliken. — Oh,  Touchit  knew  it,  did  he  ?  and  thought  it 
honorable — honorable.  Ha  !  ha  !  to  marry  a  footman — and 
keep  a  public-house  ?  I — I  beg  your  pardon,  John  Howell — I 
mean  nothing  against  you,  you  know.  You're  an  honorable 
man  enough,  except  that  you  have  been  damned  insolent  to  my 
brother-in-law. 

John. — Oh,  heaven  !  [John  strikes  his  forehead,  and  walks 
away.] 

Miss  P. — You  mistake  me,  sir.  What  I  wished  to  speak  of 
was  the  fact  which  this  gentleman  has  no  doubt  communicated 
to  you — that  I  danced  on  the  stage  for  three  months. 

Milliken. — Oh,  yes.  Oh,  damme,  yes.  I  forgot.  I  wasn't 
thinking  of  that. 

Kicklebury. — You  see  she  owns  it. 

Miss  P. — We  were  in  the  depths  of  poverty.  Our  furniture 
and  lodging-house  under  execution  —  from  which  Captain 
Touchit,  when  he  came  to  know  of  our  difficulties,  nobly  after- 
wards released  us.  My  father  was  in  prison,  and  wanted 
shillings  for  medicine,  and  I — I  went  and  danced  on  the  stage. 

Milliken. — Well  ? 

Miss  P. — And  I  kept  the  secret  afterwards  ;  knowing  that 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 


Hz 


I  could  never  hope  as  governess  to  obtain  a  place  after  having 
been  a  stage-dancer. 

MiLLiKEN. — Of  course  you  couldn't, — it's  out  of  the  ques- 
tion ;  and  may  I  ask,  are  you  going  to  resume  that  delightful 
profession  when  you  enter  the  married  state  with  Mr.  Howell  ? 

Miss  P. — Poor  John  !  it  is  not  I  who  am  going  to — that  is, 
it's  Mar}'-,  the  schoolroom  maid. 

MiLLiKENT. — Eternal  blazes !  Have  you  turned  Mormon, 
John  Howell,  and  are  you  going  to  marry  the  whole  house  ? 

John. — I  made  a  hass  of  myself  about  Miss  Prior.  1  couldn't 
help  her  being  1 — -1 — lovely. 

Kick. — Gad,  he  proposed  to  her  in  my  presence. 

John. — What  I  proposed  to  her,  Comet  Clarence  Kickle- 
bur}',  was  my  heart  and  my  honor,  and  my  best,  and  my  every- 
thing— and  you — you  wanted  to  take  advantage  of  her  secret, 
and  you  offered  her  indignities,  and  you  laid  a  cowardly  hand 
on  her — a  cowardly  hand  ! — and  I  struck  you,  and  I'd  do  it 
again. 

MiLLiKEN. — -What  ?  Is  this  true  ?  \Tiir)iing  round  very 
fiercely  to  K.] 

Kick.— Gad  !    Well— I  only 

MiLLiKEN. — You  only  what  ?  You  only  insulted  a  lady 
under  my  roof — the  friend  and  nurse  of  your  dead  sister — the 
guardian  of  my  children.  You  only  took  advantage  of  a  de- 
fenceless girl,  and  would  have  extorted  your  infernal  pay  out  of 
her  fear.     You  miserable  sneak  and  coward  ! 

Kick. — Hallo  ?  Come,  come  !  I  say  I  won't  stand  this 
sort  of  chaff.     Dainmy,  I'll  send  a  friend  to  you  ! 

MiLLiKEN. — Go  out  of  that  window,  sir.  March  !  or  I  will 
tell  my  servant,  John  Howell,  to  kick  you  out,  you  wretched 
little  scamp  !  Tell  that  big  brute, — what's-his-name  ? — Lady 
Kickleburj^'s  man,  to  pack  this  young  man's  portmanteau  and 
bear's-grease  pots  ;  and  if  ever  you  enter  these  doors  again, 
Clarence  Kicklebury,  by  the  heaven  that  made  me ! — by  your 
sister  who  is  dead  ! — I  will  cane  your  life  out  of  your  bones. 
Angel  in  heaven  1  Shade  of  my  Arabella — to  think  that  your 
brother  in  your  house  should  be  found  to  insult  the  guardian  of 
your  children ! 

John. — By  jingo,  you're  a  good-plucked  one  !  I  knew  he 
was.  ]\Iiss, — I  told  you  he  was.  \Exit,  shakifig  hands  ivith  his 
master,  and  with  Miss  P.,  and  dancing  for  joy.  Exit  Clarence, 
scared,  out  of  window7\ 

John  \jvithout\ — Bulkeley  !  pack  up  the  Captain's  luggage  ! 

MiLLiKEN. — How  can  I  ask  your  pardon,  Miss  Prior  ?     la 


654 


7'HE   WOLVES  AND   THE  LAMB. 


my  wife's  name  I  ask  it — in  the  name  of  that  angel  whose 
clying-bed  you  watched  and  soothed — of  the  innocent  children 
whom  you  have  faithfully  tended  since. 

Miss  P. — Ah,  sir !  it  is  granted  when  you  speak  so  to  me. 

MiLLiKEN. — Eh,  eh — d — don't  call  me  sir  ! 

Miss  P. — It  is  for  me  to  ask  pardon  for  hiding  what  you 
know  now  :  but  if  I  had  told  you — you — you  ne\-er  would  have 
taken  me  into  your  house — your  wife  never  would. 

MiLLiKEN. — No,  no.     [IVeeping.] 

Miss  P. — My  dear,  kind  Captain  Touchit  knows  it  all.  It 
was  by  his  counsel  I  acted.  He  it  was  who  relieved  our  dis- 
tress. Ask  him  whether  my  conduct  was  not  honorable — ask 
him  whether  my  life  was  not  devoted  to  my  parents — ask  him 
when — when  I  am  gone. 

MiLLiKEN. — When  you  are  gone,  Julia !  Why  are  you 
going  ?  Why  should  you  go,  my  love — that  is — why  need  you 
go,  in  the  devil's  name  ? 

Miss  P. — Because,  when  your  mother — when  your  mother- 
in-law  come  to  hear  that  your  children's  governess  has  been  a 
dancer  on  the  stage,  they  will  send  me  away,  and  you  will  not 
have  the  power  to  resist  them.  They  ought  to  send  me  away, 
sir ;  but  I  have  acted  honestly  by  the  children  and  their  poor 
mother,  and  you'll  think  of  me  kindly  when — I — am — gone  ? 

MiLLiKEN. — Julia,    my   dearest — dear — noble — dar the 

devil  !  here's  old  Kicklebury. 

Enter  Lady  K.,  Children,  and  Clarence. 

Lady  K. — So,  Miss  Prior !  this  is  what  I  hear,  is  it  ?  A 
dancer  in  my  house !  a  serpent  in  my  bosom — poisoning — yes, 
poisoning  those  blessed  children  !  occasioning  quarrels  between 
my  own  son  and  my  dearest  son-in-law ;  flirting  with  the  foot- 
inan !  When  do  you  intend  to  leave,  madam,  the  house  which 
you  have  po — i^oll — luted  ? 

Miss  P. — I  need  no  hard  language,  Lady  Kicklebury :  and 
I  will  reply  to  none.  I  have  signified  to  Mr.  Milliken  my  wish 
to  leave  his  house. 

Milliken. — Not,  not,  if  you  will  stay.     \To  Miss  P.] 

Lady  K. — Sta}',  Horace  !  she  shall  never  stay  as  governess 
in  this  house ! 

Milliken. — Julia!  will  you  stay  as  mistress?  You  have 
known  me  for  a  year  alone— before,  not  so  well — when  the 
house  had  a  mistress  that  is  gone.  You  know  what  my  temper 
is,  and  that  my  tastes  are  simple,  and  my  heart  not  unkind.  I 
have  watched  you,  and  have  never  seen  you  out  of  temper, 


rilE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  655 

though  j'ou  have  been  tried.  I  have  long  thought  you  good 
and  beautiful,  but  I  never  thought  to  ask  tlie  question  whicli  I 
put  to  you  now : — come  in,  sir  !  \to  Clarence  at  doo>-\  : — now 
that  you  have  been  persecuted  by  those  who  ought  to  have  up- 
held you,  and  insulted  by  those  who  owed  you  gratitude  and 
respect.  I  am  tired  of  their  domination,  and  as  weary  of  a 
man's  cowardly  impertinence  [fo  Clarence]  as  of  a  woman's 
jealous  tyranny.  They  have  made  what  was  my  Arabella's 
home  miserable  by  their  oppression  and  their  quarrels.  Julia! 
my  wife's  friend,  my  children's  friend !  be  mine,  and  make  me 
happy !  Don't  leave  me,  Julia  !  say  you  won't — say  you  won't 
— dearest — dearest  girl  1 

Miss  P. — I  won't — leave — you. 

George  \%uithoiit\. — Oh,  I  say!  Arabella,  look  here  :  here's 
papa  a-kissing  Miss  Prior  ! 

Lady  K. — Horace — Clarence  my  son  !  Shade  of  my  Ara- 
bella !  can  you  behold  this  horrible  scene,  and  not  shudder  in 
heaven  !  Bulkeley  !  Clarence  !  go  for  a  doctor — go  to  Doctor 
Straitwaist  at  the  Asylum — Horace  Milliken,  who  has  married 
the  descendant  of  the  Kicklebur\'s  of  the  Conqueror,  many  a 
dancing-girl  off  the  stage !  Horace  Milliken  I  do  you  wish  to 
see  me  die  in  convulsions  at  your  feet }  I  writhe  there,  I 
gro\'el  there.  Look !  look  at  me  on  my  knees  !  your  own 
mother-in-law  !   drive  away  this  fiend  ! 

Milliken.— Hem  !  I  ought  to  thank  you,  Lady  Kicklebury, 
for  it  is  you  that  have  given  her  to  me. 

Lady  K. — He  won't  listen !  he  turns  away  and  kisses  her 
horrible  hand.  This  will  never  do :  help  me  up,  Clarence,  I 
must  go  and  fetch  his  mother.  Ah,  ah !  there  she  is,  there  she 
is  !  [Lady  K.  riis/ics  out,  as  the  top  of  a  barouche,  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Bonnington  atid  Coachman,  is  seen  over  the  gate.'] 

]\Irs.  B. — What  is  this  I  hear,  my  son,  my  son  ?  You  are 
going  to  marry  a — a  stage-dancer.-'  you  are  driving  me  mad, 
Horace  ! 

Milliken. — Give  me  my  second  chance,  mother,  to  be 
happy.     You  have  had  yourself  two  chances. 

Mrs.  B. — Speak  to  him,  Mr.  Bonnington.  [Bonnington 
makes  dimib  show?\^ 

Lady  K. — Implore  him,  Mr.  Bonnington. 

Mrs.  B. — Pray,  pray  for  him,  Mr.  Bonnington,  my  love^ 
my  lost,  abandoned  boy  ! 

Lady  K. — Oh,  my  poor  dear  Mrs.  Bonnington ! 

Mrs.  B. — Oh,  my  poor  dear  Lady  Kicklebury.  \Thcy  em' 
brace  each  other.'] 


5r6  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

Lady  K. — I  have  been  down  on  my  knees  to  him,  dearest 
Mrs.  Bonnington. 

Mrs.  B. — Let  us  both — both  go  down  on  our  knees — I  will 
\to  her  husba?id\.  Edward,  I  will  I  \Both  ladies  o?i  their  knees. 
Bonnington  with  outstretched  hands  behind  them.']  ■  Look,  un- 
happy boy  !  look,  Horace  !  two  mothers  on  their  wretched  knees 
before  you,  imploring  you  to  send  away  this  monster !  Speak 
to  him,  Mr.  Bonnington.  Edward !  use  authority  with  him,  if 
he  will  not  listen  to  his  mother — 

Lady  K. — To  his  mothers  ! 

Ejiter  ToucHiT. 

ToucHiT. — What  is  this  comedy  going  on,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men ?  The  ladies  on  their  elderly  knees — Miss  Prior  with  her 
hair  down  her  back.  Is  it  tragedy  or  comedy — is  it  a  rehearsal 
for  a  charade,  or  are  we  acting  for  Horace's  birthday  ?  or,  oh  ! 
—I  beg  your  Reverence's  pardon — you  were  perhaps  going  to 
a  professional  duty  ? 

Mrs.  B. — It's  we  who  are  praying  this  child,  Touchit.  This 
child,  with  whom  you  used  to  come  home  from  Westminster 
when  you  were  boys.  You  have  influence  with  him ;  he  listens 
to  you.     Entreat  him  to  pause  in  his  madness. 

Touchit. — -What  madness  ? 

Mrs.  B. — That — that  woman— that  serpent  yonder — that — • 
that  dancing-woman,  whom  you  introduced  to  Arabella  Milli- 
ken, — -ah  !  and  I  rue  the  day  : — Horace  is  going  to  mum — mum 
— marry  her  I 

Touchit. — Well  !  I  always  thought  he  would.  Ever  since  I 
saw  him  and  her  playing  at  whist  together,  when  I  came  down 
here  a  month  ago,  I  thought  he  would  do  it. 

Mrs.  B. — Oh,  it's  the  whist,  the  whist !  Why  did  I  ever 
play  at  whist,  Edward  !  My  poor  Mr.  Milliken  used  to  like 
his  rubber. 

XoucHiT. — Since  he  has  been  a  widower 

Lady  K. — A  widower  of  that  angel !     [^Points  to  picture?^ 

Touchit. — Pooh,  pooh,  angel !  You  ladies  have  never 
given  the  poor  fellow  any  peace.  You  were  always  quarrelling 
over  him.  You  took  possession  of  his  house,  bullied  his  ser- 
vants, spoiled  his  children  ;  you  did.  Lady  Kicklebury. 

Lady  K. — Sir,  you  are  a  rude,  low,  presuming,  vulgar  man. 
clarence  !  beat  this  rude  man  ! 

Touchit. — P^rom  what  I  have  heard  of  your  amiable  son,  he 
is  not  in  the  warlike  line,  I  think.  My  dear  Julia,  I  am  delighted 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  657 

with  all  my  heart  that  my  old  friend  should  have  found  a  wo- 
man  of  sense,  good  conduct,  good  temper — a  woman  who  has 
had  many  trials,  and  borne  them  with  great  patience— to  take 
charge  of  him  and  make  him  happ}^  Horace  !  give  me  your 
hand  !  I  knew  Miss  Prior  in  great  poverty.  I  am  sure  she 
will  bear  as  nobly  her  present  good  fortune  ;  for  good  fortune 
it  is  to  any  woman  to  become  the  wife  of  such  a  loyal,  honest, 
kindly  gentleman  as  you  are  ! 

Enter  John. 

Jonk. — If  you  please,  my  lady — if  you  please,  sir — Bulke- 
ley- 

Lady  K. — What  of  Bulkeley,  sir  ? 

John. — He  has  packed  his  things,  and  Cornet  Kicklebury's 
things,  my  lady. 

MiLLiKEN. — Let  the  fellow  go. 

John. — He  won't  go,  sir,  till  my  lady  have  paid  him  his 
book  and  wages.     Here's  the  book,  sir. 

Lady  K. — Insolence !  quit  my  presence  !     And  I,  Mr.  Milli- 
ken.  will  quit  a  house 

John. — Shall  I  call  your  ladyship  a  carriage  ? 

Lady  K. — Where  I  have  met  with  rudeness,  cruelty,  and 
fiendish  \to  Miss  P.,  who  sjtiiles  afid  curtseys] — yes,  fiendish  in- 
gratitude. I  will  go,  I  say,  as  soon  as  I  have  made  arrange- 
ments for  taking  other  lodgings.  You  cannot  expect  a  lady  of 
fashion  to  run  out  like  a  servant. 

John. — Hire  the  "  Star  and  Garter  "  for  her,  sir.  Send 
down  to  the  "  Castle  ;"  anything  to  get  rid  of  her.  I'll  tell  her 
maid  to  pack  her  traps.  Pinhorn  !  \Beckons  maid  and  gives 
ordt  rj-.] 

ToucHiT. — You  had  better  go  at  once,  my  dear  Lady  Kickle- 
bur}\ 

Lady  K. — Sir  ! 

Touch  IT. — The  other  viother-in-law  is  co7ning\  I  met  her 
on  the  road  with  her  family.     He  !  he  !  he  !     \Scrcams?^ 

Enter  Mrs.  Prior  ajid  Children. 

Mrs.  p. — My  Lady  !  I  hope  your  ladyship  is  quite  well ! 
Dear,  kind  Mrs.  Bonnington  !  I  came  to  pay  my  duty  to  you, 
ma'am.  This  is  Charlotte,  my  Lady — the  great  girl  wlaom 
your  ladyship  so  kindly  promised  the  gown  for ;  and  this  is  my 
little  girl,  Mrs.  Bonnington,  ma'am,  please  ;  and  this  is  my 
little  Bluecoat  boy.     Go  and  speak  to  dear,  kind  Mr.  Milliken 


658  THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

— our  best  friend  and  protector — the  son  and  son-in-law  of 
these  dear  ladies.  Look,  sir  !  He  has  brought  his  copy  to  show 
you.  [Boy  shows  copy^  Ain't  it  creditable  to  a  boy  of  his  age, 
Captain  Touchit .''  And  my  best  and  most  grateful  services  to 
you,  sir.  Julia,  Julia,  my  dear,  where's  3'our  cap  and  spectacles, 
fyou  stupid  thing  ?  You've  let  your  hair  drop  down.  What! 
what ! — \Begms  to  be  puzzled.^ 

Mrs.  B. — Is  this  collusion,  madam  ! 

Mrs,  p. — Collusion,  dear  Mrs.  Bonnington ! 

Lady  K. — Or  insolence,  Mrs.  Prior? 

Mrs.  p. — Insolence,  your  ladyship  !  What — what  is  it  ? 
what  has  happened  ?  What's  Julia's  hair  down  for  ?  Ah  ! 
you've  not  sent  the  poor  girl  away  ?  the  poor,  poor  child,  and 
the  poor,  poor  children  ! 

Touchit. — That  dancing  at  the  "  Coburg  "  has  come  out, 
Mrs.  Prior. 

Mrs.  p. — Not  the  darling's  fault.  It  was  to  help  her  poor 
father  in  prison.  It  was  I  who  forced  her  to  doit.  Oh  !  don't, 
don't,  clear  Lady  Kicklebury,  take  the  bread  out  of  the  mouth 
of  these  poor  orphans  !     \_Crying.^ 

Milliken. — Enough  of  this,  Mrs.  Prior :  your  daughter  is 
not  going  away.  Julia  has  promised  to  stay  with  me — and — ■ 
never  to  leave  me — as  governess  no  longer,  but  as  wife  to  me. 

Mrs.  p. — Is  it — is  it  true,  Julia  ? 

Miss  P. — Yes,  mamma. 

Mrs.  p. — Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  ^Flings  doivn  her  innhreUa,  kisses 
Julia,  and  running  to  Milliken,]  My  son,  my  son  !  Come 
here,  children.  Come,  Adolphus,  Amelia,  Charlotte — -kiss 
your  dear  brother,  children.  What,  my  dears  !  How  do  you 
do,  dears  ?  \to  Milliken's  children^.  Have  they  heard  the 
news  ?  And  do  you  know  that  my  daughter  is  going  to  be 
your  mamma  .''  There — there — go  and  play  with  your  little 
uncles  and  aunts,  that's  good  children  !  \_She  /notions  off  the 
Children,  loho  retire  towards  garden.  Her  manner  changes  to 
one  of  great  patronage  and  intense  satisfaction.^  Most  hot  weather 
your  ladyship,  I'm  sure.  Mr.  Bonnington,  you  must  find  it  hot 
weather  for  preachin' !  Lor' !  there's  that  little  wretch  beatin' 
Adolphus  !  George,  sir  !  have  done,  sir  !  [^R/ais  to  separate 
the7n!\     How  ever  shall  we  make  those  children  agree,  Julia  ? 

Miss  P. — They  have  been  a  little  spoiled,  and  I  think  Mr. 
Milliken  will  send  George  and  Arabella  to  school,  mamma  : 
will  you  not,  Horace  ? 

Mr.  Milliken. — I  think  school  will  be  the  very  best  thing 
for  them. 


THE  WOLVES  AND  THE  LAMB.  g^g 

Mrs.  p. — And  [Mrs.  P.  whispers,  pointing  to  her  orvn  chil- 
drefi]  the  blue  room,  the  green  room,  the  rooms  old  Lady  Kick 
has — plenty  of  rooms  for  us,  my  dear ! 

Miss  P. — No,  mamma,  I  think  it  will  be  too  large  a  party, 
— Mr.  Milliken  has  often  said  that  he  would  like  to  go  abroad, 
and  I  hope  that  now  he  will  be  able  to  make  his  tour. 

Mrs.  p. — Oh,  then  !  we  can  live  in  the  house,  you  know  : 
what's  the  use  of  payin'  lodgin',  my  dear? 

Miss  P. — The  house  is  going  to  be  painted.  You  had  best 
live  in  your  own  house,  mamma ;  and  if  you  want  anything, 
Horace,  Mr.  Milliken,  I  am  sure,  will  make  it  comfortable  for 
you.  He  has  had  too  many  visitors  of  late,  and  will  like  a 
more  quiet  life,  I  think.     Will  you  not  ? 

Milliken. — I  shall  like  a  life  with  you,  Julia. 

John. — Cab,  sir,  for  her  ladyship.! 

Lady  K. — This  instant  let  me  go  !  Call  my  people.  Clar- 
ence, your  arm  !  Bulkeley,  Pinhorn  !  Mrs.  Bonnington,  I 
wish  you  good-morning  !  Arabella,  angel !  [looks  at  picture^  I 
leave  you.  I  shall  come  to  you  ere  long.  \Exit,  refusing  Mm.- 
liken's  hand,  passes  up  garden,  with  her  servants  fonozm?ig  her. 
Mary  and  other  servants  of  the  house  are  eollected  together,  whom 
Lady  K.  waves  off.  Bluecoat  boy  on  wall  eati^ig plums.  Page, 
as  she  goes,  cries,  Hurray,  hu>-ray  /  Bluecoat  boy  cries.  Hurray  ! 
When  Lady  K.  is  gone,  John  advances.'] 

John. — I  think  I  heard  you  say,  sir,  that  it  was  your  inten- 
tion to  go  abroad  .'' 

Milliken. — Yes  ;  oh,  yes !  Are  we  going  abroad,  my 
Julia  ? 

Miss  P. — To  settle  matters,  to  have  the  house  painted,  and 
clear  \fointing  to  childre7i,  mother,  d^^.]  Don't  you  think  it  is 
the  best  thing  that  we  can  do  ? 

Milliken. — Surely,  surely  :  we  are  going  abroad.  Howell, 
you  will  come  with  us  of  course,  and  with  your  experiences  you 
will  make  a  capital  courier.  Won't  Howell  make  a  capital 
courier,  Julia  ?  Good,  honest  fellow,  John  Howell.  Beg  your 
pardon  for  being  so  rude  to  you  just  now.  But  my  temper  is 
very  hot,  very ! 

John  [laughing]. — You  are  a  Tartar,  sir.  Such  a  tyrant ! 
isn't  he,  ma'am  ? 

Miss  P. — Well,  no  ;  I  don't  think  you  have  a  very  bad 
temper,  Mr.  Milliken,  a — Horace. 

John. — You  must — take  care  of  him — alone,  Miss  Prior — 
Julia — I  mean  Mrs.  Milliken.  Man  and  boy  I've  waited  on 
him  this  fifteen  year :  with  the  exception  of  that  trial  at  the 


66o  THE  WOL  VES  AND  THE  LAMB. 

printing-office — which — which  I  won't  talk  of  now,  madam.  I 
never  knew  him  angry  ;  though  many  a  time  I  have  known  him 
provoked.  I  never  knew  him  say  a  hard  word,  thougli  some- 
times perhaps  we've  deserved  it.  Not  often — such  a  good 
master  as  that  is  pretty  sure  of  getting  a  good  servant — that  is, 
if  a  man  has  a  heart  in  his  bosom  ;  and  these  things  are  found 
both  in  and  out  of  livery.  Yes,  I  have  been  a  honest  servant 
to  him, — haven't  I,  Mr.  Milliken  ? 

MiLLiKEN. — Indeed,  yes,  John, 

John. — And  so  has  Mary  Barlow.  Mary,  my  dear  !  \Afary 
co)nes  forward/\  Will  you  allow  me  to  introduce  you,  sir,  to 
the  futur' Mrs.  Howell.'' — if  Mr.  Bonnington  does jw/r  little 
business  for  you,  as  I  dare  say  [turnijig  to  Mr.  B.],  hold  gov'nor, 
you  will  ! — Make  it  up  with  your  poor  son,  Mrs.  Bonnington, 
ma'am.  You  have  took  a  second  'elpmate,  why  shouldn't 
Master  Horace  ?  [to  Mrs.  B.]  He — he  wants  somebody  to  help 
him,  and  take  care  of  him,  more  than  you  do. 

ToucHiT.  —  You  never  spoke  a  truer  word  in  your  life, 
Howell. 

John. — It's  my  general  'abit,  Capting,  to  indulge  in  them 
sort  of  statements.  A  true  friend  I  have  been  to  my  master, 
and  a  true  friend  I'll  remain  when  he's  my  master  no  more. 

Milliken. — Why,  John,  you  are  not  going  to  leave  me  ? 

John. — It's  best,  sir,  I  should  go.  I — I'm  not  fit  to  be  a 
servant  in  this  house  any  longer.  I  wish  to  sit  in  my  own  little 
home,  with  my  own  little  wife  by  my  side.  Poor  dear !  you've 
no  conversation,  Mary,  but  you're  a  good  little  soul.  We've 
saved  a  hundred  pound  apiece,  and  if  we  want  more,  I  know 
who  won't  grudge  it  us,  a  good  feller — a  good  master — for 
whom  I've  saved  many  a  hundred  pound  myself,  and  will  take 
the  "  Milliken  Arms  "  at  old  Pigeoncot — and  once  a  year  or  so, 
at  this  hanniversary,  we  will  pay  our  respects  to  you,  sir,  and 
madam.  Perhaps  we  will  bring  some  children  with  us,  perhaps 
we  will  find  some  more  in  this  villa.  Bless  'em  beforehand  ] 
Good-by,  sir,  and  madam — come  away,  Mary !  \govig\. 

Mrs.  p.  \cntering  with  clothes,  6^^.] — She  has  not  left  a 
single  thing  in  her  room.  Amelia,  come  here  !  this  cloak  will 
do  capital  for  you,  and  this — this  garment  is  the  very  thing  for 
Adolphus.  Oh,  John  !  eh,  Howell  !  will  you  please  to  see  that 
my  children  have  something  to  eat,  immediately !  The  Mil' 
liken  children,  I  suppose,  have  dined  already? 

John. — Yes,  ma'am  ;  certainly,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  p. — I  see  he  is  inclined  to  be  civil  to  me  now  i 

Miss  P. — ^John  Plowell  is  about  to  leave  us,  mamma.     He 


TFIE  WOLVES-  AND  THE  LAMB.  66l 

is  engaged  to  Mary  Barlow,  and  when  we  go  away,  he  is  going 
to  set  up  housekeeping  for  himself.  Good-by,  and  thank  you, 
John  Howell  S^gives  her  hand  to  John,  /;///  with  great  reserve  of 
manne>-\.  •  You  have  been  a  kind  and  true  friend  to  us — if  ever 
we  can  serve  you,  count  upon  us — may  he  not,  Mr.  Milliken  ? 

MiLLiKEN. — Always,  always. 

Miss  P. — But  you  will  still  wait  upon  us — upon  Mr.  Mih 
liken,  for  a  day  or  two,  won't  you,  John  ?  until  we — until  Mr, 
Milliken  has  found  some  one  to  replace  you.  He  will  never 
find  any  one  more  honest  than  you,  and  good,  kind  little  Mary. 
Thank  you,  Mary,  for  your  goodness  to  the  poor  governess. 

Mary. — Oh,  miss  !  oh,  mum  !  [Miss  P.  kisses  Mary  patron- 
izing/)\ 

Miss  P.  \to  John]. — And  after  they  have  had  some  refresh- 
ment, get  a  cab  for  my  brothers  and  sisters,  if  you  please,  John. 
Don't  you  think  that  will  be  best,  my — my  dear  ? 

Milliken. — Of  course,  of  course,  dear  Julia  ! 

Miss  P. — And,  Captain  Touchit,  you  will  stay,  I  hope,  and 
dine  with  Mr,  Milliken  ?  And,  Mrs.  Bonnington,  if  you  will 
recei\'e  as  a  daughter  one  who  has  always  had  a  sincere  regard 
for  you,  I  think  you  will  aid  in  making  your  son  happy,  as  I 
promise  you  with  all  my  heart  and  all  my  life  to  endeavor  to 
do.     [Miss  P.  and  M.  go  up  to  Mrs.  Bonnington.] 

Mrs.  Bonnington. — Well,  there  then,  since  it  must  be  so, 
bless  you,  my  children. 

Touchit. — Spoken  like  a  sensible  woman  !  And  now,  as  I 
do  not  wish  to  interrupt  this  felicity,  I  will  go  and  dine  at  the 
"  Star  and  Garter." 

Miss  P.  —  My  dear  Captain  Touchit,  not  for  worlds ! 
Don't  you  know  I  mustn't  be  alone  with  Mr.  Milliken  until — 
until ? 

Milliken.  —  Until  I  am  made  the  happiest  man  alive! 
And  you  will  come  down  and  see  us  often,  Touchit,  won't  you  ? 
And  we  hope  to  see  our  friends  here  often.  And  we  will  have 
a  little  life  and  spirit  and  gayety  in  the  place.  Oh,  mother ! 
oh,  George  !  oh,  Julia  !  what  a  comfort  it  is  to  me  to  think  that 
I  am  released  from  the  tyranny  of  that  terrible  mother-in-law ! 

Mrs.  Prior. — Come  in  to  your  teas,  children.  Come  this 
moment,  I  say.  \The  Children  pass,  quarrelling  behind  the 
characters,  Mrs.  Prior,  summoning  them ;  John  and  Mary 
standifigon  each  side  of  the  dining-room  door  as  the  curtain  falls. '\ 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.* 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF    THE     LOVES    OF    MR.    PERKINS    AND     MISS     GORGON,    AND     OF 
THE    TWO    GREAT    FACTIONS    IN    THE    TOWN    OF    OLDBOROUGH. 

"  My  dear  John,"  cried  Lucy,  with  a  very  wise  look  indeed, 
"  it  must  and  shall  be  so.  As  for  Doughty  Street,  with  our 
means,  a  house  is  out  of  the  question.  We  must  keep  three 
servants,  and  aunt  Biggs  says  the  taxes  are  one-and-twenty 
pounds  a  year," 

"  I  have  seen  a  sweet  place  at  Chelsea,"  remarked  John  : 
"  Paradise  Row,  No.  17, — garden — greenhouse — fifty  pounds  a 
year — omnibus  to  town  within  a  mile." 

"  What !  that  I  ma}-  be  left  alone  all  day,  and  you  spend  a 
fortune  in  driving  backward  and  forward  in  those  horrid  break- 
neck cabs  ?  My  darling,  I  should  die  there — die  of  fright,  I 
know  I  should.  Did  you  not  say  yourself  that  the  road  was 
not  as  yet  lighted,  and  that  the  place  swarmed  with  public- 
houses  and  dreadful  tipsy  Irish  bricklayers  ?  Would  you  kill 
me,  John  ?  " 

"  My  da — arling,"  said  John,  with  tremendous  fondness, 
clutching  Miss  Lucy  suddenly  round  the  waist,  and  rapping 
the  hand  of  that  young  person  violently  against  his  waistcoat, 
— "  My — da — arling,  don't  say  such  things,  even  in  a  joke.  If 
I  objected  to  the  chambers,  it  is  only  because  you,  my  love, 
with  your  birth  and  connections,  ought  to  have  a  house  of  your 
own.  The  chambers  are  quite  large  enough,  and  certainly 
quite  good  enough  for  me."  And  so  after  some  more  sweet 
parley  on   the  part  of  these  young  people,  it  was  agreed  that 

*  A  story  of  Charles  dt;  Bernard  {urnished  the  plot  of  "  The  Bedford-Row  Conspiracy." 


666  .     THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

they  should  take  up  their  abode,  when  married,  in  a  part  of 
the  House  number  One  hundred  and  something,  Bedford  Row. 

It  will  be  necessary  to  explain  to  the  reader  that  John  was 
no  other  than  John  Perkins,  Esq.,  of  the  Middle  Temple,  bar- 
rister-at-law,  and  that  Miss  Lucy  was  the  daughter  of  the  late 
Captain  Gorgon,  and  Marianne  Biggs,  his  wife.  The  Captain 
being  of  noble  connections,  younger  son  of  a  baronet,  cousin 

to  Lord  X ,  and  related  to  the  Y family,  had  angered 

all  his  relatives  by  marrying  a  very  silly,  pretty  young  woman," 
who  kept  a  ladies'  school  at  Canterbury.  She  had  six  hundred 
pounds  to  her  fortune,  which  the  Captain  laid  out  in  the  pur- 
chase of  a  sweet  travelling-carriage  and  dressing-case  for  him- 
self ;  and  going  abroad  with  his  lady,  spent  several  years  in  the 
principal  prisons  of  EurojDe,  in  one  of  which  he  died.  His  wife 
and  daughter  were  meantime  supported  by  the  contributions  of 
Mrs.  Jemima  Biggs,  who  still  kept  the  ladies'  school. 

At  last  a  dear  old  relative — such  a  one  as  one  reads  of  in 
romances — died  and  left  seven  thousand  pounds  apiece  to  the 
two  sisters,  whereupon  the  elder  gave  up  schooling  and  retired 
to  London  ;  and  the  younger  managed  to  live  with  some  com- 
fort and  decency  at  Brussels,  upon  two  hundred  and  ten 
pounds  per  annum.  Mrs.  Gorgon  never  touched  a  shilling  of 
her  capital,  for  the  very  good  reason  that  it  was  placed  entirely 
out  of  her  reach ;  so  that  when  she  died,  her  daughter  found 
herself  in  possession  of  a  sum  of  money  that  is  not  always  to 
be  met  with  in  this  world. 

Her  aunt  the  baronet's  lady,  and  her  aunt  the  e.x-school- 
mistress,  both  wrote  very  pressing  invitations  to  her,  and  she 
resided  with  each  for  six  months  after  her  arrival  in  England. 
Now,  for  a  second  time,  she  had  come  to  Mrs.  Biggs,  Caroline 
Place,  Mecklenburgh  Square.  It  was  under  the  roof  of  that 
respectable  old  lady  that  John  Perkins,  Esq.,  being  invited  to 
take  tea,  wooed  and'  won  Miss  Gorgon. 

Having  thus  described  the  circumstances  of  Miss  Gorgon's 
life,  let  us  pass  for  a  moment  from  that  young  lady,  and  lift  up 
the  veil  of  mystery  which  envelopes  the  deeds  and  character  of 
Perkins. 

Perkins,  too,  was  an  orphan  ;  and  he  and  his  Lucy,  of 
summer  evenings,  when  Sol  descending  lingered  fondly  yet 
about  the  minarets  of  the  Foundling,  and  gilded  the  grass-plots 
of  Mecklenburgh  Square — Perkins,  I  say,  and  Lucy  would 
often  sit  together  in  the  summer-house  of  that  pleasure-ground, 
and  muse  upon  the  strange  coincidences  of  their  life.  Lucy 
wa.s  motherless  and  fatherless  ;  so,  too,  was  Perkins.     If  Per- 


THE  BEDFORD-KOIV  CONSPIRACY.  667 

kins  was  brotherless  and  sisterless,  was  not  Lucy  likewise  an 
only  child  ?  Perkins  was  twenty-three  ;  his  age  and  Lucy's 
united,  amounted  to  forty-six;  and  it  was  to  be  remarked,  as  a 
fact  still  more  extraordinary,  that  while  Lucy's  relatives  were 
aiinls,  John's  were  nudes.  Mysterious  spirit  of  love  !  let  us 
treat  thee  with  respect  and  whisper  not  too  many  of  thysecrets. 
Tl;e  fact  is,  John  and  Lucy  were  a  pair  of  fools  (as  every  young 
couple  ought  to  be  who  have  hearts  that  are  worth  a  farthing), 
and  were  ready  to  find  coincidences,  sympathies,  hidden  gushes 
of  feeling,  mystic  unions  of  ths  soul,  and  what  not,  in  every  sin- 
gle circumstance  that  occurred  from  the  rising  of  the  sun  to  the 
going  down  thereof,  and  in  the  intervals.  Bedford  Row,  where 
Perkins  lived,  is  not  very  far  from  Mecklenburgh  Square ;  and 
John  used  to  say  that  he  felt  a  comfort  that  his  house  and 
Lucy's  were  served  by  the  same  muffin-man. 

Further  comment  is  needless.  A  more  honest,  simple, 
clever,  warm-hearted,  soft,  whimsical,  romantical,  high-spirited 
young  fellow  than  John  Perkins  did  not  exist.  When  his  father, 
Dr.  Perkins,  died,  this,  his  only  son,  was  placed  imder  the  care 
of  John  Perkins,  Esq.,  of  the  house  of  Perkins,  Scully  and 
Perkini,  those  celebrated  attorneys  in  the  trading  town  of  Old- 
borough,  which  the  second  partner,  William  Pitt  Scully,  Esq., 
represented  in  Parliament  and  in  London. 

All  John's  fortune  was  the  house  in  Bedford  Row,  which,  at 
his  father's  death,  was  let  out  into  chambers,  and  brought  in  a 
clear  hundred  a  year.  Under  his  uncle's  roof  at  Oldborough, 
where  he  lived  with  thirteen  red-haired  male  and  female  cousins, 
he  was  only  charged  fifty  pounds  for  board,  clothes,  and  pocket- 
money,  and  the  remainder  of  his  rents  was  carefully  put  by  for 
him  until  his  majority.  When  he  approached  that  period — 
when  he  came  to  belong  to  two  spouting-clubs  at  Oldborough, 
among  the  young  merchants  and  lawyers'-clerks — to  blow  the 
flute  nicely,  and  play  a  good  game  at  billiards — to  have  written 
one  or  two  smart  things  in  the  Oldborough  Sentinel — to  be  fond 
of  smoking  (in  which  act  he  was  discovered  by  his  fainting 
aunt  at  three  o'clock  one  morning) — in  one  word,  when  John 
Perkins  arrived  at  mantiood,  he  discovered  that  he  was  quite 
unfit  to  be  an  attorney,  that  he  detested  all  the  ways  of  his 
uncle's  stern,  dull,  vulgar,  regular,  red-headed  family,  and  he 
vowed  that  he  would  go  to  London  and  make  his  fortune. 
Thither  he  went,  his  aunt  and  cousins,  who  were  all  "  serious," 
vowing  that  he  was  a  lost  boy ;  and  when  his  history  opens, 
John  had  been  two  years  in  the  metropolis,  inhabiting  his  own 
garrets ;  and  a  very  nice  compact  set  of  apartments,  looking 

'1^ 


668  THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

into  the  back-garden,  at  this  moment  falling  vacant,  the  pru- 
dent Lucy  Gorgon  had  visited  them,  and  vowed  that  she  and 
her  John  should  there  commence  housekeeping, 

AH  these  explanations  are  tedious,  but  necessary  ;  and 
furthermore,  it  must  be  said,  that  as  John's  uncle's  partner  was 
the  Liberal  Member  for  Oldborough,  so  Lucy's  uncle  was  its 
Ministerial  representative. 

This  gentleman,  the  brother  of  the  deceased  Captain  Gorgon, 
lived  at  the  paternal  mansion  of  Gorgon  Castle,  and  rejoiced 
in  the  nam£  and  title  of  Sir  George  Grimsby  Gorgon.  He, 
too,  like  his  younger  brother,  had  married  a  lady  beneath  his 
own  rank  in  life  ;  having  espoused  the  daughter  and  heiress  of 
Mr.  Hicks,  the  great  brewer  at  Oldborough,  who  held  numerous 
mortgages  on  the  Gorgon  propert}^,  all  of  which  he  yielded  up, 
together  with  his  daughter  Juliana,  to  the  care  of  the  baronet. 

What  Lady  Gorgon  was  in  character,  this  history  will  show. 
In  person,  if  she  may  be  compared  to  any  vulgar  animal,  one 
of  her  father's  heav}',  healthy,  broad-flanked,  Roman-nosed 
white  dray-horses  might,  to  the  poetic  mind,  appear  to  resemble 
her.  At  twenty  she  was  a  splendid  creature,  and  though  not 
at  her  full  growth;  yet  remarkable  for  strength  and  sinew  ;  at 
forty-five  she  was  as  fine  a  woman  as  any  in  his  Majesty's  do- 
minions. Five  feet  seven  in  height,  thirteen  stone,  her  own 
teeth  and  hair,  she  looked  as  if  she  were  the  mother  of  a  regi- 
ment of  Grenadier  Guards.  She  had  three  daughters  of  her 
own  size,  and  at  length,  ten  years  after  the  birth  of  the  last  of 
the  young  ladies,  a  son — one  son — George  Augustus  Frederick 
Grimsby  Gorgon,  the  godson  of  a  royal  duke,  whose  steady 
officer  in  waiting  Sir  George  had  been  for  many  years. 

It  is  needless  to  say,  after  entering  so  largely  into  a  descrip- 
tion of  Lady  Gorgon,  that  her  husband  v/as  a  little  shrivelled, 
wizen-faced  creature,  eight  inches  shorter  than  her  ladyship. 
This  is  the  way  of  the  world,  as  every  single  reader  of  this 
book  must  have  remarked  ;  for  frolic  love  delights  to  join 
giants  and  pygmies  of  different  sexes  in  the  bonds  of  matrimon3^ 
When  'you  saw  her  ladyshijD,  in  flame-colored  satin  and  gor- 
geous toque  and  feathers,  entering  the  drawing-room,  as  foot- 
men along  the  stairs  shouted  nielodiously,  "  Sir  George  and 
Lady  Gorgon,"  you  beheld  in  her  company  a  small  withered 
old  gentleman,  with  powder  and  large  royal  household  buttons, 
who  tripped  at  her  elbow  as  a  little  weak-legged  colt  does  at 
the  side  of  a  stout  mare. 

The  little  (jeneral  had  been  present  at  about  a  hundred  and 
twenty  pitched  battles  on   Hounslow  Heath   and  Wormwood 


THE  BEDFORD-R O W  CONSPIRA CY.  669 

Scrubs,  but  had  never  drawn  sword  against  an  enemy.  As 
might  be  expected,  therefore,  his  talk  and  tcnue  were  outra- 
geously military.  He  had  the  whole  Army  List  by  heart — that 
is,  as  far  as  the  field-ofiticers  :  all  below  them  he  scorned,  A 
bugle  at  Gorgon  Castle  always  sounded  at  breakfast  and  dinner  : 
a  gun  announced  sunset.  He  clung  to  his  pigtail  for  many 
years  after  the  army  had  forsaken  that  ornament,  and  could 
never  be  brought  to  think  much  of  the  Peninsular  men  for  giv- 
ing it  up.  When  he  spoke  of  the  Duke,  he  used  to  call  him 
"  My  Lord  Wellington — I  recollect  him  as  Captain  Wesley T  He 
swore  fearfully  in  conversation,  was  most  regular  at  church,  and 
regularly  read  to  his  family  and  domestics  the  morning  and 
evening  praver  ;  he  bullied  his  daughters,  seemed  to  bully  his 
wife,  who  led  him  whither  she  chose  ;  gave  grand  entertain- 
ments, and  never  asked  a  friend  by  chance ;  had  splendid 
liveries,  and  starved  his  people  ;  and  was  as  dull,  stingy,  pom- 
pous, insolent,  cringing,  ill-tempered  a  little  creature  as  ever 
was  known. 

With  such  qualities  you  may  fancy  that  he  was  generally 
admired  in  society  and  by  his  country.  So.  he  was  :  and  I 
never  knew  a  man  so  endowed  whose  way  through  life  was  not 
safe — who  had  fewer  pangs  of  conscience — more  positive  en- 
joyments— more  respect  shown  to  him — more  favors  granted  to 
him,  than  such  a  one  as  my  friend  the  General. 

Her  ladyship  was  just  suited  to  him,  and  they  did  in  reality 
admire  each  other  hugely.  Previously  to  her  marriage  with  the 
baronet,  many  love-passages  had  passed  between  her  and  William 
Pitt  Scully,  Esq.,  the  attorney  ;  and  there  was  especially  one 
story,  apropos  of  certain  syllabubs  and  Sally-Lunn  cakes,  which 
seemed  to  show  that  matters  had  gone  very  far.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  no  sooner  did  the  General  (Major  Gorgon  he  was  then) 
cast  an  eye  on  her,  than  Scully's  five  years'  fabric  of  love  was 
instantly  dashed  to  the  ground.  She  cut  him  pitilessl}^,  cut 
Sally  Scully,  his  sister,  her  dearest  friend  and  confidante,  and 
bestowed  her  big  person  upon  the  little  aide-de-camp  at  the 
end  of  a  fortnight's  wooing.  In  the  course  of  time,  their  mu- 
tual fathers  died  ;  the  Gorgon  estates  were  unencumbered : 
patron  of  both  the  seats  in  the  borough  of  Oldborough,  and 
occupant  of  one,  Sir  George  Grimsby  Gorgon,  Baronet,  was  a 
personage  of  no  small  importance. 

He  was,  it  scarcely  need  be  said,  a  Tory  ;  and  this  was  the 
reason  why  William  Pitt  Sculh^,  Esq.,  of  the  firm  of  Perkins 
and  Scully,  deserted  those  principles  in  which  he  had  been  bred 
and  christened  ;  deserted  that  church  which  he  had  frequented. 


670  THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

for  he  could  not  bear  to  see  Sir  George  and  my  lady  flaunting 
in  their  grand  pew ; — deserted,  I  say,  the  church,  adopted  the 
conventicle,  and  became  one  of  the  most  zealous  and  eloquent 
supporters  that  Freedom  has  known  in  our  time.  Scully,  of 
the  house  of  Scully  and  Perkins,  was  a  dangerous  enemy.  In 
five  years  from  that  marriage,  which  snatched  from  the  jilted 
solicitor  his  heart's  young  affections,  Sir  George  Gorgon  found 
that  he  must  actually  spend  seven  hundred  j^ounds  to  keep  his 
two  seats.  At  the  next  election,  a  Liberal  was  set  up  against 
his  man,  and  actually  ran  him  hard  ;  and  finally,  at  the  end  of 
eighteen  years,  the  rejected  Scully — the  mean  attorney — was 
actually  \h&  first  Member  for  Oldborough,  Sir  George  Grimsby 
Gorgon,  Baronet,  being  only  the  second  ! 

The  agony  of  that  day  cannot  be  imagined — the  dreadful 
curses  of  Sir  George,  who  saw  fifteen  hundred  a  year  robbed 
from  under  his  very  nose — the  religious  resignation  of  my  lady 
— the  hideous  window-smashing  that  took  place  at  the  "  Gor- 
gon Arms,"  and  the  discomfiture  of  the  pelted  Mayor  and  Cor- 
poration, The  very  next  Sunday,  Scully  was  reconciled  to  the 
church  (or  attended  it  in  the  morning,  and  the  meeting  twice 
in  the  afternoon),  and  as  Doctor  Snorter  uttered  the  prayer  for 
the  High  Court  of  Parliament,  his  eye — the  eye  of  his  whole 
party — turned  towards  Lady  Gorgon  and  Sir  George  in  a  most 
unholy  triumph.  Sir  George  (who  always  stood  during  prayers, 
like  a  military  man)  fairly  sank  down  among  the  hassocks,  and 
Lady  Gorgon  was  heard  to  sob  as  audibly  as  ever  did  iittle 
beadle-belabored  urchin. 

Scully,  when  at  Oldborough,  came  from  that  day  forth  to 
church.  "What,"  said  he,  "was  it  to  him?  were  we  not  all 
brediren.?"  Old  Perkins,  however,  kept  religiously  to  the 
Squaretoes  congregation.  In  fact,  to  tell  the  truth,  this  sub- 
ject had  been  debated  between  the  partners,  who  saw  the  ad- 
vantage of  courting  both  the  Establishment  and  the  Dissenters 
— a  manoeuvre  which,  I  need  not  say,  is  repeated  in  almost 
every  country  town  in  England,  where  a  solicitor's  house  has 
this  kind  of  power  and  connection. 

Three  months  after  this  election  came  the  races  at  Old- 
borough, and  the  race-ball.  Gorgon  was  so  infuriated  by  his 
defeat,  that  he  gave  "  ihe  Gorgon  cup  and  cover,"  a  matter  of 
fifteen  pounds.  Scully,  "  although  anxious,"  as  he  wrote  from 
town,  "  anxious  beyond  measure  to  preserve  the  breed  of  horses 
for  which  our  beloved  country  has  ever  been  famous,  could  at- 
tend no  such  sports  as  these,  which  but  too  often  degenerated 
into  vice."     It  was  voted  a  shabby  excuse.     Lady  Gorgon  was 


THE  BEDFORD-RO  W  CONSPIRA  CY.  67 1 

radiant  in  her  barouche  and  four,  and  gladly  became  the  pa- 
troness of  the  ball  that  was  to  ensue  ;  and  which  all  the  gentry 
and  townspeople,  Tory  and  Whig,  were  in  the  custom  of  attend- 
ing. The  ball  took  place  on  the  last  day  of  tlie  races.  On 
that  day,  the  walls  of  the  market-house,  the  principal  public 
buildings,  and  the  "  Gorgon  Arms  Hotel  "  itself,  were  plastered 
with  the  following — 


«  LETTER  FROM  OUR  DISTINGUISHED  REPRESENTATIVE, 
WILLIAM  P.  SCULLY,  ESQ.,  ETC.,  ETC. 

"  House  of  Commons ,  June  i,  28 — . 

*'  My  dear  Heeltap, — You  know  my  opinion  about  horse- 
racing,  and  though  I  blame  neither  you  nor  any  brother  English- 
man who  enjoys  that  manly  sport,  you  will,  I  am  sure,  appre- 
ciate the  conscientious  motives  which  induce  me  not  to  appear 
among  my  friends  and  constituents  on  the  festival  on  the  3d, 
4th,  and  5th  instant.  If  I,  however,  cannot  allow  my  name  to 
appear  among  your  list  of  stewards, /?«<?  at  least  of  the  represen- 
tatives of  Oldborough  has  no  such  scruples.  Sir  George  Gor- 
gon is  among  you :  and  though  I  differ  from  that  honorable 
Baronet  on  more  than  one  vital  point,  I  am  glad  to  think  that  he 
is  with  you.  A  gentleman,,  a  soldier,  a  man  of  property  in  the 
county,  how  can  he  be  better  employed  than  in  forwarding  the 
county's  amusements,  and  in  forwarding  the  happiness  of  all  ? 

"  Had  I  no  such  scruples  as  those  to  which  I  have  just 
alluded,  I  must  still  have  refrained  from  coming  among  you. 
Your  great  Oldborough  common-drainage  and  inclosure  bill 
comes  on  to-morrow,  and  I  shall  be  at  my  post.  I  am  sure,  if 
Sir  George  Gorgon  were  here,  he  and  I  should  on  this  occasion 
vote  side  by  side,  and  that  party  strife  would  be  forgotten  in 
the  object  of  our  common  interest — our  dear  native  totun. 

"There  is,  however,  another  occasion  at  hand,  in  which  I 
shall  be  proud  to  meet  him.  Your  ball  is  on  the  night  of  the 
6th.  Party  forgotten — brotherly  union — innocent  mirth — • 
beauty,  our  dear  town's  beauty^  our  daughters  in  the  joy  of  their 
expanding  loveliness,  our  matrons  in  the  exquisite  contempla- 
tion of  their  children's  bliss, — can  you,  can  I,  can  Whig  or 
Tory,  can  any  Briton  be  indifferent  to  a  scene  like  this,  or  re- 
fuse to  join  in  this  heart-stirring  festival  ?  If  there  be  such  let 
them  pardon  me, — I,  for  one,  my  dear  Heeltap,  will  be  among, 
you  on  Friday  night, — ay,  and  hereby  invite  all  pretty  Tory 
Misses,  who  are  in  want  of  a  partner. 

"  I  am  here  in  the  very  midst  of  good  things,  you  know 


672  THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

and  we  old  folks  like  a  supper  after  a  dance.  Please  to  accept 
a  brace  of  bucks  and  a  turtle,  which  come  herewith.  My  wor- 
thy colleague,  who  was  so  liberal  last  year  of  his  soup  to  the 
poor,  will  not,  1  trust,  refuse  to  taste  a  little  of  Alderman  Birch's 
■ — 'tis  offered  on  my  part  with  hearty  good-will.  Hey  for  the 
6  th,  and  vive  la  joie'i 

"  Ever,  my  dear  Heeltap,  your  faithful 

"  W.  Pitt  Scully." 

"  P.  S. — Of  course  this  letter  is  strictly  private.  Say  that 
the  venison,  &c.,  came  from  a  well-wisher  to  Oldborougk.^' 

This  amazing  letter  was  published,  in  defiance  of  Mr. 
Scully's  injunctions,  by  the  enthusiastic  Heeltap,  who  said 
bluntly,  in  a  preface,  "  that  he  saw  no  reason  why  Mr.  Scully 
should  be  ashamed  of  his  action,  and  he  for  his  part,  was  glad 
to  let  all  friends  at  Oldborough  know  of  it." 

The  allusion  about  the  Gorgon  soup  was  killing :  thirteen 
paupers  in  Oldborough  had,  it  was  confidently  asserted,  died 
of  it.  Lady  Gorgon,  on  the  reading  of  this  letter,  was  struck 
completely  dumb  ;  Sir  George  Gorgon  was  wild.  Ten  dozen 
of  champagne  was  he  obliged  to  send  down  to  the  "  Gorgon 
Arms,"  to  be  added  to  the  festival.  He  would  have  stayed 
away  if  he  could,  but  he  dared  not. 

At  nine  o'clock,  he  in  general's  uniform,  his  wife  in  blue 
satin  and  diamonds,  his  daughters  in  blue  crape  and  white 
roses,  his  niece,  Lucy  Gorgon,  in  white  muslin,  his  son,  George 
Augustus  Frederick  Grimsby  Gorgon,  in  a  blue  velvet  jacket, 
sugar-loaf  buttons,  and  nankeens,  entered  the  north  door  of  the 
ball-room,  to  much  cheering,  and  the  sound  of  "  God  save  the 
King !  " 

At  that  very  same  moment,  and  from  the  south  door,  issued 
William  Pitt  Scully,  Esq.,  and  his  staff.  Mr.  Scully  had  a  bran- 
new  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons,  buff  waistcoat,  white  kersey- 
mere tights,  pumps  with  large  rosettes,  and  pink  silk  stockings. 

"  This  wool,"  said  he  to  a  friend,  was  grown  on  "  Oldbor- 
ough sheep,  this  cloth  was  spun  in  Oldborough  looms,  these 
buttons  were  cast  in  an  Oldborough  manufactory,  these  shoes 
were  made  by  an  Oldborough  tradesman,  this  heart^wst  beat  in 
Oldborough  town,  and  pray  heaven  may  be  buried  there  ! " 

Could  anything  resist  a  man  like  this  ?  John  Perkins,  who 
had  come  down  as  one  of  Scully's  aides-de-camp,  in  a  fit  of 
generous  enthusiasm,  leaped  on  a  whist-table,  flung  up  a  pocket* 
handkerchief,  and  shrieked — "  Scully  forever  !  " 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.  673 

Heeltap,  who  was  generally  drunk,  fairly  burst  into  tears, 
and  the  grave  tradesmen  and  Whig  gentry,  who  had  dined  with 
the  Member  at  his  inn,  and  accompanied  him  thence  to  the 
"  Gorgon  Arms,"  lifted  their  deep  voices  and  shouted  "  Hear  !  " 
"  Good  !  "  "  Bravo  !  "  "  Noble  !  "  "  Scully  forever  !  "  "  God 
bless  hiui !  "  and  "  Hurrah  !  " 

The  scene  was  tumultuously  affecting  ;  and  when  young 
Perkins  sprang  down  from  the  table  and  came  blushing  up  to 
the  Member,  that  gentleman  said,  "  Thank  you,  Jack  !  tha7ik 
you,  my  boy  !  thank  you,"  in  a  way  which  made  Perkins  think 
that  his  supreme  cup  of  bliss  was  quaffed  ;  that  he  had  but  to 
die  :  for  that  life  had  no  other  such  joy  in  store  for  him. 
Scully  was  Perkins's  Napoleon — he  yielded  himself  up  to  the 
attorney,  body  and  soul. 

Whilst  this  scene  was  going  on  under  one  chandelier  of  the 
ball-room,  beneath  the  other  scarlet  little  General  Gorgon, 
sumptuous  Lady  Gordon,  the  daughters  and  niece  Gorgons, 
were  standing  surrounded  by  their  Tory  court,  who  affected  to 
sneer  and  titter  at  the  Whig  demonstrations  which  were  taking 
place. 

"  What  a  howwid  thmell  of  whithkey !  "  lisped  Cornet 
Fitch,  of  the  Dragoons,  to  Miss  Lucy,  confidentially.  "  And 
thethe  are  what  they  call  Whigth,  are  they  1  he  !  he  !  " 

"  They  are  drunk, me — drunk  by !  "  said  the  Gen- 
eral to  the  Mayor. 

"  Which  is  Scully?"  said  Lady  Gorgon,  lifting  her  glass 
gravely  (she  was  at  that  very  moment  thinking  of  the  syllabubs). 
"  Is  it  that  tipsy  man  in  the  green  coat,  or  that  vulgar  creature 
in  the  blue  one  ?  " 

"  Law,  my  Lady,"  said  the  Mayoress,  "  have  you  forgotten 
him  ?     Why,  that's  him  in  blue  and  buff." 

"  And  a  monthous  fine  man,  too,"  said  Cornet  Fitch.  "  I 
wish  we  had  him  in  our  twoop — he'th  thix  feet  thwee,  if  he'th 
an  inch  ;  ain't  he,  Genewal." 

No  reply. 

"  And  heavens  !  mamma,"  shrieked  the  three  Gorgons  in  a 
breath,  "  see,  one  creature  is  on  the  whist-table.  Oh,  the 
wretch  1  " 

"  I'm  sure  he's  very  good-looking,"  said  Luc}^  simply. 

Lady  Gorgon  darted  at  her  an  angry  look,  and  was  about 
to  say  something  very  contemptuous,  when,  at  that  instant, 
John  Perkins's  shout  taking  effect.  Master  George  Augustus 
Frederick  Grimsby  Gorgon,  not  knowing  better,  incontinently 
raised  a  small  shout  on  his  side. 


674  ^-^^  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

"  Hear  !  good  !  bravo  !  "  exclaimed  he  ;  "  Scully  forever ! 
Hurra-a-a-ay  !  "  and  fell  skipping  about  like  the  Whigs  opposite. 

"  Silence,  you  brute  you  ?  "  groaned  Lady  Gorgon ;  and 
seizing  him  by  the  shirt-frill  and  coat-collar,  carried  him  away 
to  his  nurse,  who,  with  many  other  maids  of  the  Whig  and 
Tory  parties,  stood  giggling  and  peeping  at  the  landing-place. 

Fancy  how  all  these  small  incidents  augmented  the  heap  of 
Lady  Gorgon's  anger  and  injuries  !  She  was  a  dull  phlegmatic 
woman  for  the  most  part,  and  contented  herself  generally  with 
merely  despising  her  neighbors ;  but  oh  !  what  a  fine  active 
hatred  raged  in  her  bosom  for  victorious  Scully  !  At  this 
moment  Mr.  Perkins  had  finished  shaking  hands  with  his 
Napoleon — Napoleon  seemed  bent  upon  some  tremendous 
enterprise.     He  was  looking  at  Lady  Gorgon  very  hard. 

"  She's  a  fine  woman,"  said  Scully,  thoughtfully ;  he  was 
still  holding  the  hand  of  Perkins.  And  then,  after  a  pause, 
"  Gad  !  I  think  I'll  try." 

"  Try  what,  sir  .?  " 

"  She's  a  deuced  fine  woman  !  "  burst  out  again  the  solicitor. 
"  I  will  go.     Springer,  tell  the  fiddler  to  strike  up." 

Springer  scuttled  across  the  room,  and  gave  the  leader  of 
the  band  a  knowing  nod.  Suddenly,  "  God  save  the  King  " 
ceased,  and  "  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  "  began.  The  rival  forces 
eyed  each  other  ;  Mr.  Scully,  accompanied  by  his  friend,  came 
forward,  looking  very  red,  and  fumbling  two  large  kid-gloves. 

'■'■  He's  going  to  ask  me  to  dance,"  hissed  out  Lady  Gorgon, 
with  a  dreadful  intuition,  and  she  drew  behind  her  lord. 

"  D it,  Madam,  then  dafice  \v\ih.  him  !  "  said  the  General. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  the  scoundrel  is  carrying  it  all  his  own  way  ! 

him  !  and him  !  and him  !  "     (AH  of  which  dashes 

the  reader  may  fill  up  with  oaths  of  such  strength  as  may  be 
requisite.) 

"  General  !  "  cried  Lady  Gorgon,  but  could  say  no  more. 
Scully  was  before  her. 

"  Madam  !  "  exclaimed  the  Liberal  Member  for  Oldborough, 
"in  a  moment  like  this — I  say — that  is — that  on  the  present 
occasion — your  ladyship — unaccustomed  as  I  am — pooh,  psha — 
7<:'///your  ladyship  give  me  the  distinguished  honor  and  pleasure 
of  going  down  the  country-dance  with  your  ladyship  ?  " 

An  immense  heave  of  her  ladyship's  ample  chest  was  per- 
ceptible. .  Yards  of  blond  lace,  which  might  be  compared  to 
a  foam  of  the  sea,  were  agitated  at  the  same  moment,  and  by 
the  same  mighty  emotion.  The  river  of  diamonds  which  flowed 
•round  her  ladyship's  neck,  seemed  to  swell  and  to  shine  more 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.  675 

than  ever.  The  tall  plumes  on  her  ambrosial  head  bowed 
down  beneath  the  storm.  In  other  words,  Lady  Gorgon,  in  a 
furious  rage,  which  she  was  compelled  to  restrain,  trembled, 
drew  up,  and  bowing  majestically  said, — 

"  Sir,  I  shall  have  much  pleasure."  With  this  she  extended 
her  hand.  Scully,  trembling,  thrust  forward  one  of  his  huge 
kid-gloves,  and  led  her  to  the  head  of  the  country-dance.  John 
Perkins — who  I  presume  had  been  drinking  pretty  freely,  so 
as  to  have  forgotten  his  ordinary  bashfulness — looked  at  the 
three  Gorgons  in  blue,  then  at  the  pretty  smiling  one  in  white, 
and  stepping  up  to  her,  without  the  smallest  hesitation,  asked 
her  if  she  would  dance  with  him.  The  young  lady  smilingly 
agreed.  The  great  example  of  Scully  and  Lady  Gorgon  was 
followed  by  all  dancing  men  and  women.  Political  enmities 
were  forgotten.  Whig  voters  invited  Tory  voters'  wives  to  the 
dance.  The  daughters  of  Reform  accepted  the  hands  of  the 
sons  of  Conservatism.  The  reconciliation  of  the  Romans  and 
Sabines  was  not  more  touching  than  this  sweet  fusion.  Whack 
— whack  !  Mr.  Springer  clapped  his  hands  ;  and  the  fiddlers 
adroitly  obeying  the  cheerful  signal,  began  playing  "  Sir  Roger 
de  Coverley  "  louder  than  ever. 

I  do  not  know  by  what  extraordinary  charm  (tiescio  gud 
prceter  solitum,  6-^.),  but  young  Perkins,  who  all  his  life  had 
hated  country-dances,  was  delighted  with  this  one,  and  skipped 
and  laughed,  poussetting,  crossing,  down-the-middling,  with  his 
merry  little  partner,  till  every  one  of  the  bettermost  sort  of  the 
thirty-nine  couples  had  dropped  panting  away,  and  till  the 
youngest  Miss  Gorgon,  coming  up  to  his  partner  said,  in  a  loud, 
hissing,  scornful  whisper,  "  Lucy,  mamma  thinks  you  have 
danced  quite  enough  with  this — this  person."  And  Lucy,  blush- 
ing, starting  back,  and  looking  at  Perkins  in  a  very  melancholy 
way,  made  him  a  little  curtsey,  and  went  off  to  the  Gor- 
gonian  party  with  her  cousin.  Perkins  was  too  frightened  to 
lead  her  back  to  her  place — too  frightened  at  first,  and  then  too 
angr}^  "  Person  !  "  said  he  :  his  soul  swelled  with  a  desperate 
republicanism  :  he  went  back  to  his  patron  more  of  a  radical 
than  ever. 

He  found  that  gentleman  in  the  solitary  tea-room,  pacing 
up  and  down  before  the  observant  landlady  and  handmaidens 
of  the  "  Gorgon  Arms,"  wiping  his  brows,  gnawing  his  fingers 
— his  ears  looming  over  his  stiff  white  shirt-collar  as  red  as  fire. 
Once  more  the  great  man  seized  John  Perkins's  hand  as  the 
latter  came  up. 

"  D the  aristocrats  !  "  roared  the  ex-follower  of  Square* 

toes. 


676  THE  BEDFOR  D-kOW  CONSPIRA  C  K 

"  And  so  say  I  ;  but  what's  the  matter,  sir? " 

"What's  the  matter?  —  Why  that  woman  —  that  infernal 
haughty,  straight-laced,  cold-blooded  brewer's  daughter !  I 
loved  that  woman,  sir — I  kissed  that  woman  sir,  twenty  years 
ago  :  we  were  all  but  engaged,  sir :  we've  walked  for  hours  and 
hours,  sir — us  and  the  governess — I've  got  a  lock  of  her  hair, 
sir,  among  my  papers  now  ;  and  to-night,  would  you  believe  it  ? 
■ — as  soon  as  she  got  to  the  bottom  of  the  set,  away  she  went — 
not  one  word  would  she  speak  to  me  all  the  way  down  :  and 
when  I  wanted  to  lead  her  to  her  place,  and  asked  her  if  she 
would  have  a  glass  of  negus,  '  Sir,'  says  she,  '  I  have  done  my 
duty  ;  I  bear  no  malice  :  but  I  consider  you  a  traitor  to  Sir 
George  Gorgon's  family — a  traitor  and  an  upstart !  I  consider 
your  speaking  to  me  as  a  piece  of  insolent  vulgarity,  and  beg 
you  will  leave  me  to  myself ! '  There's  her  speech,  sir.  Twenty 
people  heard  it,  and  all  her  Tory  set  too.  I'll  tell  you  what, 
Jack :  at  the  next  election  I'll  put  you  up.  Oh  that  woman  ! 
that  woman  ! — and  to  think  that  I  love  her  still !  "  Here  Mr. 
Scully  paused,  and  fiercely  consoled  himself  by  swallowing 
three  cups  of  Mrs.  Rincer's  green  tea. 

The  fact  is,  that  Lady  Gorgon's  passion  had  completely  got 
the  better  of  her  reason.  Her  ladyship  was  naturally  cold  and 
artificially  extremely  squeamish  ;  and  when  this  great  red-faced 
enemy  of  hers  looked  tenderly  at  her  through  his  little  red  eyes, 
and  squeezed  her  hand  and  attempted  to  renew  the  old  ac- 
quaintance, she  felt  such  an  intolerable  disgust  at  his  triumph, 
at  his  familiarity,  and  at  the  remembrance  of  her  own  former 
liking  for  him,  that  she  gave  utterance  to  the  speech  above 
correctly  reported.  The  Tories  were  delighted  with  her  spirit, 
and  Cornet  Fitch,  with  much  glee,  told  the  story  to  the  General  ; 
but  that  officer,  who  was  at  whist  with  some  of  his  friends,  flung 
down  his  cards,  and  coming  up  to  his  lady,  said  briefly, 

"  Madam,  you  are  a  fool !  " 

"  I  will  7iot  stay  here  to  be  bearded  by  that  disgusting  man  ! 
• — Mr.  Fitch,  call  my  people. — Henrietta,  bring  Miss  Lucy  from 
that  linendraper  with  whom  she  is  dancing.  I  will  not  stay, 
General,  once  for  all." 

Henrietta  ran — she  hated  her  cousin  ;  Cornet  Fitch  was 
departing.  "  Stop,  Fitch,"  said  Sir  George,  seizing  him  by  the 
arm,     "  You  are  a  fool,  Lady  Gorgon,  said  he,  "  and  I  repeat 

it — a fool !     This  fellow  Scully  is  carrying  all  before  him  ; 

he  has  talked  with  everybody — and  you,  with  your  infernal 

airs — a  brewer's  daughter,  by ,  must  sit  like  a  queen  and 

not  speak  to  a  soul !     You've  lost  me  one  seat  of  my  borough, 


THE  BEDFORD-ROIV  CONSPIRACY.  677 

with  your  infernal  pride — fifteen  hundred  a  year,  by  Jove ! — • 
and  you  think  you  will  bully  me  out  of  another.  No,  Madam, 
you  shall  stay,  and  stay  supper  too  ; — and  the  girls  shall  dance 
with  every  cursed  chimney-sweep  and  butcher  in  the  room, 
they  shall — confound  me  !  " 

Her  ladyship  saw  that  it  was  necessary  to  submit  ;  and  Mr. 
Springer,  the  master  of  the  ceremonies,  was  called,  and  re- 
quested to  jDoint  out  some  eligible  partners  for  the  young  ladies. 
One  went  off  with  a  Whig  auctioneer  ;  another  figured  in  a 
quadrille  with  a  very  Liberal  apothecary,  and  the  third.  Miss 
Henrietta,  remained. 

"  Hallo  you,  sir  !  "  roared  the  little  General  to  John  Perkins, 
who  was  passing  by.     John  turned  round  and  faced  him. 

"  You  were  dancing  with  my  niece  just  now — show  us  your 
skill  now,  and  dance  with  one  of  my  daughters.  Stand  up,  Miss 
Henrietta  Gorgon — Mr.  What's-your-name  }  " 

"  My  name,"  said  John,  with  marked  and  majestic  emphasis, 
"is' Perkins."  And  he  looked  towards  Lucy,  who  dared  not 
look  again. 

"  Miss  Gorgon — Mr.  Perkins.     There  now  go  and  dance." 

"Mr.  Perkins  regrets,  Madam,"  said  John,  making  a  bow 
to  Miss  Henrietta,  "  that  he  is  not  able  to  dance  this  evening. 
I  am  this  moment  obliged  to  look  to  the  supper  ;  but  you  will 
find,  no  doubt,  some  other  person  who  will  have  much  pleas- 
ure." 

"  Go  to ,  sir !  "  screamed  the  General,  starting  up,  and 

shaking  his  cane. 

"  Calm  yourself,  dearest  George,"  said  Lady  Gorgon,  cling- 
ing fondly  to  him.  Fitch  twiddled  his  mustache.  Miss  Hen- 
rietta Gorgon  stared  with  open  mouth.  The  silks  of  the  sur- 
rounding dowagers  rustled — the  countenances  of  all  looked 
grave. 

"  I  will  follow  you,  sir,  wherever  you  please  ■  and  you  may 
hear  of  me  whenever  you  like,"  said  Mr.  Perkins,  bowing  and 
retiring.  He  heard  little  Lucy  sobbing  in  a  corner.  He  was 
lost  at  once — lost  in  love  ;  he  felt  as  if  he  could  combat  fifty 
generals !  he  never  was  so  happy  in  his  life  ! 

The  supper  came  ;  but  as  that  meal  cost  five  shillings  a 
head,  General  Gorgon  dismissed  the  four  spinsters  of  his  family 
homewards  in  the  carriage,  and  so  saved  himself  a  pound. 
This  added  to  Jack  Perkins's  wrath  ;  he  had  hoped  to  have 
seen  Miss  Lucy  once  more.  He  was  a  steward,  and,  in  the 
General's  teeth,  would  have  done  his  duty.  He  was  thinking 
how  he  would  have  helped  her  tq  the  most  delicate  chicken- 


678  THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

wings  and  blancmanges,  how  he  would  have  made  her  taka 
champagne.  Und(;r  the  noses  of  indignant  aunt  and  uncle, 
what  glorious  fun  il;  would  have  been  ! 

Out  of  place  as  Mr.  Scully's  present  was,  and  though  Lady 
Gorgon  and  her  party  sneered  at  the  vulgar  notion  of  venison 
and  turtle  for  supper,  all  the  world  at  Oldborough  ate  very 
greedily  of  those  t\\  o  substantial  dishes ;  and  the  Mayor's  wife 
became  from  that  day  forth  a  mortal  enemy  of  the  Gorgons : 
for,  sitting  near  her  ladyship,  who  refused  the  proffered  soup 
and  meat,  the  Mayoress  thought  herself  obliged  to  follow  this 
disagreeable  example.  She  sent  away  the  plate  of  turtle  with 
a  sigh,  saying,  however,  to  the  baronet's  lady,  "  I  thought, 
Mem,  that  the  Lord  Mayor  of  Londo?i  always  had  turtle  to  his 
supper  ? " 

"  And  what  if  he  didn't,  Biddy  ? "  said  his  Honor  the 
Mayor ;  "  a  good  thing's  a  good  thing,  and  here  goes ! " 
wherewith  he  plunged  his  spoon  into  the  savory  mess.  The 
Mayoress,  as  we  have  said,  dared  not ;  but  she  hated  Lady 
Gorgon,  and  remembered  it  at  the  next  election. 

The  pride,  in  fact,  and  insolence  of  the  Gorgon  party  ren- 
dered every  person  in  the  room  hostile  to  them  ;  so  soon  as, 
gorged  with  meat,  they  began  to  find  that  courage  which  Britons 
invariably  derive  from  their  victuals.  The  show  of  the  Gorgon 
plate  seemed  to  offend  the  people.  The  Gorgon  champagne 
was  a  long  time,  too,  in  making  its  appearance.  Arrive,  how- 
ever, it  did.  The  people  were  waiting  for  it ;  the  young  ladies, 
not  accustomed  to  that  drink,  declined  pledging  their  admirers 
until  it  was  produced  ;  the  men,  too,  despised  the  bucellas  and 
sherry,  and  were  looking  continually  towards  the  door.  At 
last,  Mr.  Rincer,  the  landlord,  Mr.  Hock,  Sir  George's  butler, 
and  sundry  others  entered  the  room.  Bang  1  went  the  corks — 
fizz  the  foamy  liquor  sparkled  into  all  sorts  of  glasses  that  were 
held  out  for  its  reception.  Mr.  Hock  helped  Sir  George  and 
his  party,  who  drank  with  great  gusto;  the  wine  which  was 
administered  to  the  persons  immediately  around  Mr.  Scully 
was  likewise  pronounced  to  be  good.  But  Mr.  Perkins,  who 
had  taken  his  seat  among  the  humbler  individuals,  and  in  the 
very  middle  of  the  table,  observed  that  all  these  persons,  after 
drinking,  made  to  each  other  very  wry  and  ominous  faces,  and 
whispered  much.  He  tasted  his  wine  :  it  was  a  villanous  com- 
pound of  sugar,  vitriol,  soda-water,  and  green  gooseberries.  At 
this  moment  a  great  clatter  of  forks  was  made  by  the  presi- 
dent's and  vice-president's  party.  Silence  for  a  toast — 'twas 
silence  all. 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.  679 

"Landlord,"  said  Mr.  Perkins,  starting  up  (the  rogue, 
where  did  his  impudence  come  from  ?)  "  have  you  any  cham- 
pagne of  your  oum  1  " 

"  Silence  !  down  !  "  roared  the  Tories,  the  ladies  looking 
aghast.  "  Silence,  sit  down  you  !  "  shrieked  the  well-known 
voice  of  the  General. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  General,"  said  young  John  Perkins  ; 
''but  where  could  ^ow  have  bought  this  champagne?  My 
worthy  friend  I  know  is  going  to  propose  the  ladies  ;  let  us  at 
any  rate  drink  such  a  toast  in  good  wine."  ("  Hear,  hear  !  ") 
"  Drink  her  ladyship's  health  in  this  stuff  ?  I  declare  to  good- 
ness I  would  sooner  drink  it  in  beer !  " 

No  pen  can  describe  the  uproar  which  arose  :  the  anguish 
of  the  Gorgonites — the  shrieks,  jeers,  ironic  cries  of  "  Swipes  !  " 
&c.,  which  proceeded  from  the  less  genteel  but  more  enthusi- 
astic Scullyites. 

"This  vulgarity  is  too  much,"  said  Lady  Gorgon,  rising; 
and  Mrs.  Mayoress  and  the  ladies  of  the  party  did  so  too. 

The  General,  two  squires,  the  clergyman,  the  Gorgon  apoth- 
ecary and  attorney,  with  their  respective  ladies,  followed  her  : 
they  were  plainly  beaten  from  the  field.  Such  of  the  Tories  as 
dared  remained,  and  in  inglorious  compromise  shared  the  jovial 
Whig  feast. 

"  Gentlemen  and  ladies,"  hiccoughed  Mr.  Heeltap,  "  I'll  give 
you  a  toast.  '  Champagne  to  our  real — hie — friends,'  no, 
'  Real  Champagne  to  our  friends,'  and — hie — pooh  !  '  Cham- 
pagne to  our  friends,  and  real  pain  to  our  enemies,' — huzzay  !  " 

The  Scully  faction  on  this  day  bore  the  victory  away,  and 
if  the  polite  reader  has  been  shocked  by  certain  vulgarities  on 
the  part  of  Mr.  Scully  and  his  friends,  he  must  remember 
imprhnis  that  Oldborough  was  an  inconsiderable  place — that 
the  inhabitants  thereof  were  chiefly  tradespeople,  not  of  refined 
habits — that  Mr.  Scully  himself  had  only  for  three  months 
mingled  among  the  aristocracy — that  his  young  friend  Perkins 
was  violently  angry — and  finally,  and  to  conclude,  that  the 
proud  vulgarity  of  the  great  Sir  George  Gorgon  and  his  family 
were  infinitely  more  odious  and  contemptible  than  the  mean 
vulgarity  of  the  Scullyites  and  their  leader. 

Immediately  after  this  event,  Mr.  Scully  and  his  young 
friend  Perkins  returned  to  town  ;  the  latter  to  his  garrets  in 
Bedford  Row — the  former  to  his  apartments  on  the  first  floor 
of  the  same  house.  He  lived  here  to  superintend  his  legal 
business  :  his  London  agents,  Messrs.  Higgs,  Biggs  &  Blather- 
wick,    occupying  the   ground  floor;   the   junior   partner,    Mr. 


68o  THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

Gustavus  Blalherwick,  the  second  flat  of  the  house.  Scully 
made  no  secret  of  his  profession  or  residence  ;  he  was  an  attor- 
ney, and  proud  of  it  ;  he  was  tlie  grandson  of  a  laborer,  and 
thanked  God  for  it ;  he  had  made  his  fortime  by  his  own  hon- 
est labor,  and  why  should  he  be  ashamed  of  it  ? 

And  now,  having  explained  at  full  length  who  the  several 
heroes  and  heroines  of  this  history  were,  and  how  they  con- 
ducted themselves  in  the  country,  let  us  describe  their  behavior 
in  London,  and  the  great  events  which  occurred  there. 

You  must  know  that  Mr.  Perkins  bore  away  the  tenderest 
recollections  of  the  young  lady  with  whom  he  had  danced  at 
the  Oldborough  ball,  and,  having  taken  particular  care  to  find 
out  where  she  dwelt  when  in  the  metropolis,  managed  soon  to 
become  acquainted  with  aunt  Biggs,  and  made  himself  so  amia- 
ble to  that  lady,  that  she  begged  he  would  pass  all  his  disen- 
gaged evenings  at  her  lodgings  in  Caroline  Place.  Mrs.  Biggs 
was  perfectly  aware  that  the  young  gentleman  did  not  come 
for  her  bohea  and  muffins,  so  much  as  for  the  sweeter  conver- 
sation of  her  niece,  Miss  Gorgon  ;  but  seeing  that  these  two 
young  people  were  of  an  age  Avhen  ideas  of  love  and  marriage 
will  spring  up,  do  what  you  will ;  seeing  that  her  niece  had  a 
fortune,  and  Mr.  Perkins  had  the  prospect  of  a  place,  and  was 
moreover  a  very  amiable  and  well-disposed  young  fellow,  she 
thought  her  niece  could  not  do  better  than  marry  him  ;  and 
Miss  Gorgon  thought  so  too.  Now  the  public  will  be  able  to 
understand  the  meaning  of  that  important  conversation  which 
is  recorded  at  the  very  commencement  of  this  history. 

Lady  Gorgon  and  her  family  were  likewise  in  town  ;  but, 
when  in  the  metropolis,  they  never  took  notice  of  their  relative, 
Miss  Lucy :  the  idea  of  acknowledging  an  ex-schoolmistress 
living  in  Mecklenburgh  Square  being  much  too  preposterous 
for  a  person  of  my  Lady  Gorgon's  breeding  and  fashion.  She 
did  not,  therefore,  know  of  the  progress  which  sly  Perkins  was 
making  all  this  while  ;  for  Lucy  Gorgon  did  not  think  it  was  at 
all  necessary  to  inform  her  ladyship  how  deeply  she  was  smitten 
by  the  wicked  young  gentleman  who  had  made  all  the  disturb- 
ance at  the  Oldborough  ball. 

The  intimacy  of  these  young  persons  had,  in  fact,  become  so 
close,  that  on  a  certain  sunshiny  Sunday  in  December,  after 
having  accompanied  aunt  Biggs  to  church,  they  had  pursued 
their  walk  as  far  as  that  rendezvous  of  lovers,  the  Regent's  Park, 
and  were  talking  of  their  coming  marriage  with  much  confi- 
dential tenderness,  before  the  bears  in  the  Zoological  Gardens. 

Miss  Lucy  was  ever  and   anon  feeding  those    interesting 


THE  BEDFORD-RO  W  CONSP/RA  CY.  68 1 

animals  with  buns,  to  perform  which  act  of  charity  she  had 
ckvmbered  up  on  the  parapet  which  surrounds  their  den.  Mr. 
Perkins  was  below  ;  and  Miss  Lucy,  having  distributed  her 
buns,  was  on  the  point  of  following, — but  whether  from  timid- 
ity, or  whether  from  a  desire  to  do  young  Perkins  an  essential 
service,  I  know  not :  however,  she  found  herself  quite  unwill- 
ing to  jump  down  unaided. 

"  My  dearest  John,"  said  she,  "  I  never  can  jump  that." 

Whereupon,  John  stepped  up,  put  one  hand  round  Lucy's 
waist :  and  as  one  of  hers  gently  fell  upon  his  shoulder,  Mr. 
Perkins  took  the  other  and  said, — 

"  Now  jump." 

Hoop  !  jump  she  did,  and  so  excessively  active  and  clever 
was  Mr.  John  Perkins,  that  he  jumped  Miss  Lucy  plump  into 
the  middle  of  a  group  formed  of 

Lady  Gorgon, 

The  Misses  Gorgon, 

Master  George  Augustus  Frederick  Grimsby  Gorgon, 

And  a  footman,  poodle,  and  French  governess  :  who  had 
all  been  for  two  or  three  minutes  listening  to  the  billings  and 
cooings  of  these  imprudent  young  lovers. 


CHAPTER  II. 

shows  how  the  plot  began  to  thicken  in  or  about 
bedford  row. 

"  Miss  Lucy  !  " 

"  Upon  my  word  !  " 

"I'm  hanged  if  it  arn't  Lucy!  How  do,  Lucy  ?"  uttered 
Lady,  the  Misses,  and  Master  Gorgon  in  a  breath. 

Lucy  came  forward,  bending  down  her  ambrosial  curls,  and 
blushing,  as  a  modest  young  woman  should  :  for,  in  truth,  the 
scrape  was  very  awkward.  And  as  for  John  Perkins,  he  made 
a  start,  and  then  a  step  forwards,  and  then  two  backwards,  and 
then  began  laying  hands  upon  his  black  satin  stock — in  short, 
the  sun  did  not  shine  at  that  moment  upon  a  man  who  looked 
so  exquisitely  foolish. 

"  Miss  Lucy  Gorgon,  is  your  aunt — is  Mrs.  Briggs  here  ?  " 
said  Lady  Gorgon,  drawing  herself  up  with  much  state. 


582  THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

"  Mrs.  Biggs,  aunt,"  said  Lucy  demurely. 

"  Biggs  or  Briggs,  madam,  it  is  not  of  tlie  slightest  conse- 
quence. I  presume  that  persons  in  my  rank  of  life  are  not 
expected  to  know  everybody's  name  in  Magdeburg  Square  ?  " 
(Lady  Gorgon  had  a  house  in  Baker  Street,  and  a  dismal  house 
it  was.)  "  A't"/ here,"  continued  she,  rightly  interpreting  Lucy's 
silence,  "  not  here  ? — and  may  I  ask  how  long  is  it  that  young 
ladies  have  been  allowed  to  walk  abroad  without  chaperons, 
and  to — to  take  a  part  in  such  scenes  as  that  which  we  have 
just  seen  acted.'' " 

To  this  question — and  indeed  it  was  rather  difficult  to 
answer — Miss  Gorgon  had  no  reply.  There  were  the  six  gray 
eyes  of  her  cousins  glowering  at  her  ;  there  was  George  Augus- 
tus Frederick  examining  her  with  an  air  of  extreme  wonder, 
Mademoiselle  the  governess  turning  her  looks  demurely  away, 
and  awful  Lady  Gorgon  glancing  fiercely  at  her  in  front.  Not 
mentioning  the  footman  and  poodle,  what  could  a  poor  modest, 
timid  girl  plead  before  such  an  inquisition,  especially  when  she 
was  clearly  guilty  ?  Add  to  this,  that  as  Lady  Gorgon,  that 
majestic  woman,  always  remarkable  for  her  size  and  insolence 
of  demeanor,  had  planted  herself  in  the  middle  of  the  path,  and 
spoke  at  the  extreme  pitch  of  her  voice,  many  persons  walking 
in  the  neighborhood  had  heard  her  ladyship's  speech  and 
stopped,  and  seemed  disposed  to  await  the  rejoinder. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  aunt,  don't  draw  a  crowd  around  us," 
said  Lucy,  who,  indeed,  was  glad  of  the  only  escape  that  lay  in 
her  power.  "  I  will  tell  you  of  the — of  the  circumstance  of — ■ 
of  my  engagement  with  this  gentleman — with  Mr.  Perkins," 
added  she,  in  a  softer  tone — so  soft  that  the  ^erkins  was  quite 
inaudible. 

"  A  Mr.  What .''  An  engagement  without  consulting  your 
guardians  !  "  screamed  her  ladyship.  "  This  must  be  looked 
to  !  Jerningham,  call  round  my  carriage.  Mademoiselle,  you 
will  have  the  goodness  to  walk  home  with  Master  Gorgon,  and 
carry  him,  if  you  please,  where  there  is  wet ;  and,  girls,  as  the 
day  is  fine,  you  will  do  likewise.  Jerningham,  you  will  attend 
the  young  ladies.  Miss  Gorgon,  I  will  thank  you  to  follow  me 
immediately."  And  so  saying,  and  lodging  at  the  crowd  with 
ineffable  scorn,  and  at  Mr.  Perkins  not  at  all,  the  lady  bustled 
away  forwards,  the  files  of  Gorgon  daughters  and  governess 
closing  round  and  enveloping  poor  Lucy,  who  found  herself 
carried  forward  against  her  will,  and  in  a  minute  seated  in  her 
aunt's  coach,  along  with  that  tremendous  person. 

Her  case  was  bad  enough,  but  what  was  it  to  Perkins's  ? 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.  683 

Fancy  his  blank  surprise  and  rage  at  having  his  love  thus  sud- 
denly ravished  from  Iiim,  and  liis  delicious  tetc-d-tete  interrupted. 
He  managed,  in  an  inconceivable  short  space  of  time,  to  con- 
jure up  lialf  a  million  obstacles  to  his  union.  What  should  he 
do  ?  he  would  rush  on  to  Baker  Street,  and  wait  there  until  his 
Lucy  left  Lady  Gorgon's  house. 

He  could  find  no  vehicle  for  him  in  the  Regent's  Park,  and 
was  in  consequence  obliged  to  make  his  journey  on  foot.  Of 
course,  he  nearly  killed  himself  with  running,  and  ran  so  quick, 
that  he  was  just  in  time  to  see  the  two  ladies  step  out  of  Lady 
Gorgon's  carriage  at  her  own  house,  and  to  hear  Jerningham's 
fellow-footman  roar  to  the  Gorgonian  coachman,  "  Half-past 
seven  !  "  at  which  hour  we  are,  to  this  day,  convinced  that 
Lady  Gorgon  was  going  out  to  dine.  Mr.  Jerningham's  asso- 
ciate having  banged  to  the  door,  with  an  insolent  look  towards 
Perkins,  who  was  prying  in  with  the  most  suspicious  and  inde- 
cent curiosity,  retired,  exclaiming,  "That  chap  has  a  hi  to  our 
great-coats,  \  reckon  !  "  and  left  John  Perkins  to  pace  the  street 
and  be  miserable. 

John  Perkins  then  walked  resolutely  up  and  down  dismal 
Baker  Street,  determined  on  an  cdaircissement.  He  was  for 
some  time  occupied  in  thinking  how  it  was  that  the  Gorgons 
were  not  at  church,  they  who  made  such  a  parade  of  piety  ;  and 
John  Perkins  smiled  as  he  passed  the  chapel,  and  saw  that  two 
charity  sermons  were  to  be  preached  that  day — and  therefore  it 
was  that  General  Gorgon  read  prayers  to  his  family  at  home  in 
the  morning. 

Perkins,  ai  last,  saw  that  little  General,  in  blue  frock-coat 
and  spotless  buff  gloves,  saunter  scowling  home  ;  and  half  an 
hour  before  his  arrival,  had  witnessed  the  entrance  of  Jerning- 
ham,  and  the  three  gaunt  Miss  Gorgons,  poodle,  son-and-heir, 
and  French  governess,  protected  by  him,  into  Sir  George's 
mansion. 

"  Can  she  be  going  to  stay  all  night  ?  "  mused  poor  John, 
after  being  on  the  watch  for  three  hours  :  "  that  footman  is 
the  only  person  who  has  left  the  house  :  "  when  presently, 
to  his  inexpressible  delight,  he  saw  a  very  dirty  hackney-coach 
clatter  up  to  the  Gorgon  door,  out  of  which  first  issued  the 
ruby  plush  breeches  and  stalwart  calves  of  Mr.  Jerningham  ; 
these  were  followed  by  his  body,  and  then  the  gentleman,  ring- 
ing modestly,  was  admitted. 

Again  the  door  opened  :  a  lady  came  out,  nor  was  she  fol- 
lowed by  the  footman,  who  crossed  liis  legs  at  the  door-post 
and  allowed  her  to  mount  the  jingling  vehicle  as  best  she  might. 


684  ^ ^^  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRA C K 

Mr.  Jerningham  had  witnessed  the  scene  in  the  Park  Gardens, 
had  listened  to  the  altercation  through  the  library  keyhole,  and 
had  been  mighty  sulky  at  being  ordered  to  call  a  coach  for  this 
young  woman.  He  did  not  therefore  deign  to  assist  her  to 
mount. 

But  there  was  one  who  did  !  Perkins  was  by  the  side  of  his 
Lucy  :  he  had  seen  her  start  back  and  cry,  "  La,  John  !  " — had 
felt  her  squeeze  his  arm — had  mounted  with  her  into  the  coach, 
and  then  shouted  with  a  voice  of  thunder  to  the  coachman, 
"  Caroline  Place,  Mecklenburgh  Square." 

But  Mr.  Jerningham  would  have  been  much  more  surprised 
and  puzzled  if  he  had  waited  one  minute  longer,  and  seen  this 
Mr.  Perkins,  who  had  so  gallantly  escaladed  the  hackney-coach, 
step  out  of  it  with  the  most  mortified,  miserable,  chop-fallen 
countenance  possible. 

The  fact  is,  he  had  found  poor  Lucy  sobbing  fit  to  break  her 
heart,  and  instead  of  consoling  her,  as  he  expected,  he  only 
seemed  to  irritate  her  further  :  for  she  said,  "  Mr.  Perkins — I 
beg — I  insist,  that  you  leave  the  carriage."  And  when  Perkins 
made  some  movement  (which,  not  being  in  the  vehicle  at  the 
time,  we  have  never  been  able  to  comprehend),  she  suddenly 
sprang  from  the  back  seat  and  began  pulling  at  a  large  piece  of 
cord  which  communicated  with  the  wrist  of  the  gentleman  driv- 
ing ;  and,  screaming  to  him  at  the  top  of  her  voice,-  bade  him 
immediately  stop. 

This  Mr.  Coachman  did,  with  a  curious,  puzzled,  grinning 
air. 

Perkins  descended,  and  on  being  asked,  "  Vere  ham  I  to 
drive  the  young  'oman,  sir  ?  "  I  am  sorry  to  say  muttered  some- 
thing like  an  oath,  and  uttered  the  above-mentioned  words, 
"  Caroline  Place,  Mecklenburgh  Square,"  in  a  tone  which  I 
should  be  inclined  to  describe  as  both  dogged  and  sheepish,— 
very  different  from  that  cheery  voice  which  he  had  used  when 
he  first  gave  the  order. 

Poor  Lucy,  in  the  course  of  those  fatal  three  hours  which  had 
passed  while  Mr.  Perkins  was  pacing  up  and  down  Baker  Street, 
had  received  a  lecture  which  lasted  exactly  one  hundred  and 
eighty  minutes — from  her  aunt  first,  then  from  her  uncle,  whom 
we  have  seen  marching  homewards,  and  often  from  both  to- 
gether. 

Sir  George  Gorgon  and  his  lady  poured  out  such  a  flood  of 
advice  and  abuse  against  the  poor  girl,  that  she  came  away  from 
the  interview  quite  timid  and  cowering  ;  and  when  she  saw  John 
Perkins  (the  sly  rogue  !  how  well  he  thought  he  had  managed 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 


68s 


the  trick  !)  she  shrunk  from  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  demon  of 
■wickedness,  ordered  him  out  of  the  carriage,  and  went  home  by 
herself,  convinced  that  she  had  committed  some  tremendous 
sin. 

While,  then,  her  coach  jingled  away  to  Caroline  Place, 
Perkins,  once  more  alone,  bent  his  steps  in  the  same  direction. 
A  desperate,  heart-stricken  man,  he  passed  by  the  beloved's 
door,  saw  lights  in  the  front  drawing-room,  felt  probably  that 
she  was  there  ;  but  he  could  not  go  in.  Moodily  he  paced  down 
Doughty  Street,  and  turning  abruptly  into  Bedford  Row,  rushed 
into  his  own  chambers,  where  Mrs.  Snooks,  the  laundress,  had 
prepared  his  humble  Sabbath  meal. 

A  cheerful  fire  blazed  in  his  garret,  and  Mrs.  Snooks  had 
prepared  for  him  the  favorite  blade-bone  he  loved  (blest  four- 
days'  dinner  for  a  bachelor — roast,  cold,  hashed,  grilled  blade- 
bone,  the  fourth  being  better  than  the  first) ;  but  although  he 
usually  did  rejoice  in  this  meal — ordinarily,  indeed,  grumbling 
that  there  was  not  enough  to  satisfy  him — he,  on  this  occasion, 
after  two  mouthfuls,  flung  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  buried 
his  two  claws  in  his  hair. 

"  Snooks,"  said  he  at  last,  very  moodily,  "  remove  this  d ■■ 

mutton,  give  me  my  writing  things,  and  some  hot  brandy-and- 
water." 

This  was  done  without  much  alarm  :  for  you  must  know  that 
Perkins  used  to  dabble  in  poetry,  and  ordinarily  prepared  him- 
self for  composition  by  this  kind  of  stimulus. 

He  wrote  hastily  a  few  lines. 

"Snooks,  put  on  your  bonnet,"  said  he,  "and  carry  tnis — 
you  knozu  where  P''  he  added,  in  a  hollow,  heart-breaking  tone 
of  voice,  that  affected  poor  Snooks  almost  to  tears.  She  went 
however,  with  the  note,  which  was  to  this  purpose : — 

"  Lucy  !  Lucy  !  my  soul's  love — what,  what  has  happened  ? 
I  am  writing  this  " — {a  gulp  of  brandy-and-water) — "  in  a  state 
bordering  on  distraction  —  madness  —  insanity  "  {another). 
"  Why  did  you  send  me  out  of  the  coach  in  that  cruel,  cruel 
way  ?  Write  to  me  a  word,  a  line — tell  me,  tell  me,  I  may  come 
to  you — and  leave  me  not  in  this   agonizing  condition ;  youl 

faithful"  {ghg — glog — giog — the  ivhole glass) 

"J.  P." 

He  never  signed  John  Perkins  in  full — he  couldn't,  it  was  so 
unromantic. 

Well,  this   missive  was   despatched    by  Mrs.  Snooks,  and 


686  THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

Perkins,  in  a  fearful  state  of  excitement,  haggard,  wild,  and  with 
more  brandy-and-water,  awaited  the  return  of  his  messenger. 

When  at  length,  after  about  an  absence  of  forty  years,  as  it 
seemed  to  him,  the  old  lady  returned  with  a  large  packet, 
Perkins  seized  it  with  a  trembling  hand,  and  was  yet  more 
frightened  to  see  the  handwriting  of  Mrs,  or  Miss  Biggs. 

"  My  Dear  Mr.  Perkins,"  she  began — "  Although  I  am  not 
your  soul's  adored,  I  performed  her  part  for  once,  since  I  have 
read  your  letter,  as  I  told  her.  You  need  not  be  very  much 
alarmed,  although  Lucy  is  at  this  moment  in  bed  and  unwell  : 
for  the  poor  girl  has  had  a  sad  scene  at  her  grand  uncle's  house 
in  Baker  Street,  and  came  home  very  much  affected.  Rest, 
however,  will  restore  her,  for  she  is  not  one  of  your  nervous 
sort ;  and  I  hope  when  you  come  in  the  morning,  you  will  see 
her  as  blooming  as  she  was  when  you  went  out  to-day  on  thai 
unlucky  walk. 

"  See  what  Sir  George  Gorgon  says  of  us  all  !  You  won't 
challenge  him,  I  know,  as  he  is  to  be  your  uncle,  and  so  I  may 
show  you  his  letter. 

"  Good-night,  my  dear  John.  Do  not  go  quite  distracted 
before  morning  ;  and  believe  me  your  loving  aunt, 

"Jemima  Biggs," 

"  Baker  Street,   iitk  December. 

"  Major-General  Sir  George  Gorgon  has  heard  with  the 
utmost  disgust  and  surprise  of  the  engagement  which  Miss 
Lucy  Gorgon  has  thought  fit  to  form, 

"  The  Major-General  cannot  conceal  his  indignation  at  the 
share  which  Miss  Biggs  has  taken  in  this  disgraceful  transac- 
tion. 

"  Sir  George  Gorgon  puts  an  absolute  veto  upon  all  further 
communication  between  his  niece  and  the  low-born  adventurer 
who  has  been  admitted  into  her  society,  and  begs  to  say  that 
Lieutenant  Fitch,  of  the  Lifeguards,  is  the  gentleman  who  he 
intends  shall  marry  Miss  Gorgon, 

"  It  is  the  Major-General's  wish,  that  on  the  28th  Mis3 
Gorgon  should  be  ready  to  come  to  his  house,  in  Baker  Street, 
where  she  will  be  more  safe  from  impertinent  intrusions  than 
she  has  been  in  Mucklebury  Square, 

"  Mrs,  Biggs, 

"  Caroline  Place, 

"  Mecklenburgh  Square." 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.  6S7 

When  poor  John  Perkins  read  this  epistle,  blank  rage  and 
wonder  lilled  his  soul,  at  the  audacity  of  the  little  General,  who 
thus,  without  the  smallest  title  in  the  world,  pretended  to  dis- 
pose of  the  hand  and  fortune  of  his  niece.  The  fact  is,  that 
Sir  George  had  such  a  transcendent  notion  of  his  own  dignity 
and  station,  that  it  never  for  a  moment  entered  his  head  that 
his  niece,  or  anybody  else  connected  with  him,  should  take  a 
single  step  in  life  without  previously  receiving  his  orders  ;  and 
]\Ir.  Fitch,  a  baronet's  son,  having  expressed  an  admiration  of 
Lucy,  Sir  George  had  determined  that  his  suit  should  be  ac- 
cepted, and  really  considered  Lucy's  preference  of  another  as 
downright  treason. 

John  Perkins  determined  on  the  death  of  Fitch  as  the  very 
least  reparation  that  should  satisfy  him  :  and  vowed  too  that 
some  of  the  General's  blood  should  be  shed  for  the  words 
which  he  had  dared  to  utter. 

We  have  said  that  William  Pitt  Scully,  Esq,,  M.P,,  occupied 
the  first  floor  of  Mr.  Perkins's  house,  in  Bedford  Row  ;  and  the 
reader  is  further  to  be  informed  that  an  immense  friendship 
had  sprung  up  between  these  two  gentlemen.  The  fact  is,  that 
poor  John  was  very  much  flattered  by  Scully's  notice,  and 
began  in  a  very  short  time  to  fancy  himself  a  political  person- 
age;  for  he  had  made  several  of  Scully's  speeches,  written 
more  than  one  letter  from  him  to  his  constituents,  and,  in  a 
word,  acted  as  his  gratis  clerk.  At  least  a  guinea  a  week  did 
Mr.  Perkins  save  to  the  pockets  of  Mr.  Scully,  and  with  hearty 
good  will  too,  for  he  adored  the  great  William  Pitt,  and  be- 
lieved every  word  that  dropped  from  the  pompous  lips  of  that 
gentleman. 

Well,  after  having  discussed  Sir  George  Gorgon's  letter, 
poor  Perkins,  in  the  utmost  fury  of  mind  that  his  darling  should 
be  slandered  so,  feeling  a  desire  for  fresh  air,  determined  to 
descend  to  the  garden  and  smoke  a  cigar  in  that  tfUral,  quiet 
spot.  The  night  was  very  calm.  The  moonbeams  slept  softly 
upon  the  herbage  of  Gray's  Inn  gardens,  and  bathed  with  silver 
splendor  Theobald's  Row.  A  million  of  little  frisky  twinkling 
stars  attended  their  queen,  who  looked  with  bland  round  face 
upon  their  gambols,  as  they  peeped  in  and  out  from  the  azure 
heavens.  Along  Gray's  Inn  wall  a  lazy  row  of  cabs  stood  list- 
lessly, for  who  would  call  a  cab  on  such  a  night .''  Meanwhile 
their  drivers,  at  the  alehouse  near,  smoked  the  short  pipe  or 
quaffed  the  foaming  beer.  Perhaps  from  Gray's  Inn  Lane  some 
broken  sounds  of  Irish  revelry  might  rise.  Issuing  perhaps 
from  Raymond  Buildings  gate,  six  lawyers'  clerks  mi^ht  whoop 


688  THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

a  tipsy  song — or  the  loud  watchman  yell  the  passing  hour  ;  but 
beyond  this  all  was  silence ;  and  young  Perkins,  as  he  sat  in 
the  summer-house  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  and  contem- 
plated the  peaceful  heaven,  felt  some  influences  of  it  entering 
into  his  soul,  and  almost  forgetting  revenge,  thought  but  of 
peace  and  love. 

Presently,  he  was  aware  there  was  some  one  else  pacing  the 
garden.  Who  could  it  be  ? — Not  Blatherwick,  for  he  passed 
the  Sabbath  with  his  grandmamma  at  Clapham  ;  not  Scully 
surely,  for  he  always  went  to  Bethesda  Chapel,  and  to  a  select 
prayer-meeting  afterwards,  Alas  !  it  was  Scully  :  for  though 
that  gentleman  said  that  he  went  to  chapel,  we  have  it  for  a 
fact  that  he  did  not  always  keep  his  promise,  and  was  at  this 
moment  employed  in  rehearsing  an  extempore  speech,  which  he 
proposed  to  deliver  at  St,  Stephen's. 

''  Had  I,  sir,"  spouted  he,  with  folded  arms,  slowly  pacing 
to  and  fro—"  Had  I,  sir,  entertained  the  smallest  possible  inten- 
tion of  adressing  the  House  on  the  present  occasion — hum,  on 
the  present  occasion  —  I  would  have  endeavored  to  prepare 
myself  in  a  way  that  should  have  at  least  shown  my  sense  of 
the  greatness  of  the  subject  before  the  House's  consideration, 
and  the  nature  of  the  distinguished  audience  I  have  the  honor 
to  address.  I  am,  sir,  a  plain  man — born  of  the  people — my- 
self one  of  the  people,  having  won,  thank  heaven,  an  honorable 
fortune   and  position  by  my  own  honest  labor ;  and  standing 

here  as  I  do — 

*  *  #  *  * " 

Here  Mr.  Scully  (it  may  be  said  that  he  never  made  a 
speech  without  bragging  about  himself :  and  an  excellent  plan 
it  is,  for  people  cannot  help  believing  you  at  last) — here,  I  say, 
Mr,  Scully,  who  had  one  arm  raised,  felt  himself  suddenly  tipped 
on  the  shoulder,  and  heard  a  voice  saying,  "  Your  money  or 
your  life  !  " 

The  honorable  gentleman  twirled  round  as  if  he  had  been 
shot ;  the  papers  on  which  a  great  part  of  this  impromptu  was 
written  dropped  from  his  lifted  hand,  and  some  of  them  were 
actually  born  on  the  air  into  neighboring  gardens.  The  man 
was,  in  fact,  in  the  direst  fright, 

"  It's  only  I,"  said  Perkins,  with  rather  a  forced  laugh,  when 
he  saw  the  effect  that  his  wit  had  produced. 

"  Only  you  !     And   pray  what  the   dev what  right  have 

you  to — to  come  upon  a  man  of  my  rank  in  that  way,  and  dis- 
turb me  in  the  midst  of  very  important  meditations?"  asked 
Mr.  Scully,  beginning  to  grow  fierce. 


THE  BED.PORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.  689 

"I  want  your  advice,"  said  Perkins,  "on  a  matter  of  the 
very  greatest  importance  to  me.  You  know  my  idea  of  marry- 
ing  ? " 

"  Marry  !  "  said  Scully  ;  "  I  thought  you  had  given  up  that 
silly  scheme.     And  how,  pray,  do  you  intend  to  live  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  intended  has  a  couple  of  hundreds  a  year,  and  my 
clerkship  in  the  Tape  and  Sealing-Wax  office  will  be  as  much 
more." 

"  Clerkship — Tape  and  Sealing-Wax  Office — Government 
sinecure  ! — Why,  good  heavens  !  John  Perkins,  you  don't  tell 
w^that  you  are  going  to  accept  any  such  thing?" 

"  It  is  a  very  small  salary,  certainly,"  said  John,  who  had  a 
decent  notion  of  his  own  merits  ;  "  but  consider,  six  months' 
vacation,  two  hours  in  the  day,  and  those  spent  over  the  news- 
papers.    After  all,  it's " 

"  After  all  it's  a  swindle,"  roared  out  Mr.  Scully — "  a  swin- 
dle upon  the  country  ;  an  infamous  tax  upon  the  people,  who 
starve  that  you  may  fatten  in  idleness.  But  take  this  clerkship 
in  the  Tape  and  Sealing-Wax  Office,"  continued  the  patriot,  his 
bosom  heaving  with  noble  indignation,  and  his  eye  flashing  the 
purest  fire, — "  Take  this  clerkship,  John  Perkins,  and  sanction 
tyranny,  by  becoming  one  of  its  agents  ;  sanction  dishonesty  by 
sharing  in  its  plunder — do  this,  but  never  more  be  friend  of 
mine.  Had  I  a  child,"  said  the  patriot,  clasping  his  hands  and 
raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  "  I  would  rather  see  him  dead,  sir — > 
dead,  dead  at  my  feet,  than  the  servant  of  a  Government  which 
all  honest  men  despise."  And  here,  giving  a  searching  glance 
at  Perkins,  Mr.  Scully  began  tramping  up  and  down  the  garden 
in  a  perfect  fury. 

"  Good  heavens  ! "  exclaimed  the  timid  John  Perkins — 
*'  don't  say  so.  My  dear  Mr.  Scully,  I'm  not  the  dishonest 
character  you  suppose  me  to  be — I  never  looked  at  the  matter 
in  this  light.  I'll — I'll  consider  of  it.  I'll  tell  Crainpton  that 
I  will  give  up  the  place  \  but  for  heaven's  sake,  don't  let  me  for- 
feit j'^«r  friendship,  which  is  dearer  tome  than  anyplace  in  the 
world." 

Mr.  Scully  pressed  his  hand,  and  said  nothing  :  and  though 
their  interview  lasted  a  full  half  hour  longer,  during  which  they 
paced  up  and  down  the  gravel  walk,  we  shall  not  breathe  a 
single  syllable  of  their  conversation,  as  it  has  nothing  to  do  with 
our  tale. 

The  next  morning,  after  an  interview  with  Miss  Lucy,  John 
Perkins,  Eiq.,  was  ceen  to  issue  from  Mrs.  Biggs'  house,  look- 


g   Q  THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

ing  particularly  pale,  melancholy,  and  thoughtful ;  and  he  did 
not  stop  until  he  reached  a  certain  door  in  Downing  Street, 
where  was  the  office  of  a  certain  great  Minister,  and  the  offices 
of  the  clerks  in  his  lordship's  department. 

The  head  of  them  was  Mr.  Josiah  Crampton,  who  has  now 
to  be  introduced  to  the  public.  He  was  a  little  old  gentleman, 
some  sixty  years  of  age,  maternal  uncle  to  John  Perkins  ;  a 
bachelor,  who  had  been  about  forty-two  years  employed  in  the 
department  of  which  he  was  now  the  head. 

After  waiting  for  hours  in  an  ante-room,  where  a  number  of 
Irishmen,  some  newspaper  editors,  many  pompous-looking 
political  personages  asking  for  the  "first  lord,"  a  few  sauntering 
clerks,  and  numbers  of  swift  active  messengers  passed  to  and 
fro ; — after  waiting  for  four  hours,  making  drawings  on  the 
blottmg-book,  and  reading  the  Morning  Post  lox  that  day  week, 
Mr.  Perkins  was  informed  that  he  might  go  into  his  uncle's 
room,  and  did  so  accordingly. 

He  found  a  little  hard  old  gentleman  seated  at  a  table 
covered  with  every  variety  of  sealing-wax,  blotting-paper,  en- 
velopes, despatch-boxes,  green  tapers,  &c.,  &c.  An  immense 
fire  was  blazing  in  the  grate,  an  immense  sheet-almanac  hung 
over  that,  a  screen,  three  or  four  chairs,  and  a  faded  Turkey 
carpet,  formed  the  rest  of  the  furniture  of  this  remarkable  room 
— which  I  have  described  thus  particularly,  because,  in  the 
course  of  a  long  official  life,  I  have  remarked  that  such  is  the 
invariable  decoration  of  political  rooms. 

"  Well,  John,"  said  the  little  hard  old  gentlenvin,  pointing 
to  an  arm-chair,  "  I'm  told  you've  been  here  since  eleven.  Why 
the  deuce  do  you  come  so  early  ?  " 

"  I  had  important  business,"  answered  Mr.  Perkins,  stoutly  ; 
and  as  his  uncle  looked  up  with  a  comical  expression  of  wonder, 
John  began  in  a  solemn  tone  to  deliver  a  little  speech  which  he 
had  composed,  and  which  proved  him  to  be  a  very  worthy, 
easy,  silly  fellow. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Perkins,  "  you  have  known  for  some  time 
past  the  nature  of  my  political  opinions,  and  the  intimacy  which 
1  have  had  the  honor  to  form  with  one — with  some  of  the  lead- 
ing members  of  the  liberal  party."  (A  grin  from  Mr.  Cramp- 
ton.)  "  When  first,  by  your  kindness,  I  was  promised  the 
clerkship  in  the  Tape  and  Sealing-Wax  Office,  my  opinions 
were  not  formed  as  they  are  now  ;  and  having  taken  the  advice 
of  the  gentlemen  with  whom  I  act," — (an  enormous  grin) — • 
"  the  advice,  I  say,  of  the  gentlemen  with  whom  I  act.  and  the 
counsel  likewise  of  my  own  conscience,  I  am  compelled,  witii 
the  deepest  grief,  to  say,  niy  dear  uncle,  that  i — I 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.  691 

"That  you — what,  sir?"  exclaimed  little  Mr.  Crampton, 
bouncing  off  his  chair.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  are 
such  a  fool  as  to  decline  the  place  ?  " 

"  I  do  decline  the  place,"  said  Perkins,  whose  blood  rose 
at  the  word  '  fool.'     "  As  a  man  of  honor  I  cannot  take  it." 

"  Not  take  it !  and  how  are  you  to  live  ?  On  the  rent  of 
that  house  of  yours  ?  For,  by  gad,  sir,  if  you  give  up  the  clerk- 
ship, I  never  will  give  j^ou  a  shilling." 

"  It  cannot  be  helped,"  said  Mr.  Perkins,  looking  as  much 
a  martyr  as  he  possibly  could,  and  thinking  himself  a  very  fine 
fellow.  "  I  have  talents,  sir,  which  I  hope  to  cultivate  ;  and 
am  member  of  a  profession  by  which  a  man  may  hope  to  rise 
to  the  very  highest  offices  of  the  State." 

"  Professions,  talents,  offices  of  the  State !  Are  you  mad, 
John  Perkins,  that  you  come  to  me  with  such  insufferable 
twaddle  as  this  ?  Why,  do  you  think  if  you  had  been  capable 
of  rising  at  the  bar,  I  would  have  taken  so  much  trouble  about 
getting  you  a  place  ?  No,  sir ;  you  are  too  fond  of  pleasure, 
and  bed,  and  tea-parties,  and  small  talk,  and  reading  novels, 
and  playing  the  flute,  and  writing  sonnets.  You  vvfoukl  no 
more  rise  at  the  bar  than  my  messenger,  sir.  It  was  because  I 
knew  your  disposition  —  that  hopeless,  careless,  irresolute 
good-humor  of  yours — that  I  had  determined  to  keep  you  out 
of  danger,  by  placing  you  in  a  snug  shelter,  where  the  storms 
of  the  world  would  not  come  near  you.  You  must  have  prin- 
ciples forsooth  !  and  you  must  marry  Miss  Gorgon,  of  course ; 
and  by  the  time  you  have  gone  ten  circuits,  and  had  six 
children,  you  will  have  eaten  up  every  shilling  of  your  wife's 
fortune,  and  be  as  briefless  as  you  are  now.  Who  the  deuce 
has  put  all  this  nonsense  into  your  head  ?     I  think  I  know." 

Mr.  Perkins's  ears  tingled  as  these  hard  words  saluted  them  ; 
and  he  scarcely  knew  whether  he  ought  to  knock  his  uncle 
down,  or  fall  at  his  feet  and  say,  "  Uncle,  I  have  been  a  fool, 
and  I  know  it."  The  fact  is,  that  in  his  interview  with  Miss 
Gorgon  and  her  aunt  in  the  morning,  when  he  came  to  tell 
them  of  the  resolution  he  had  formed  to  give  up  the  place,  both 
the  ladies  and  John  himself  had  agreed,  with  a  thousand  rap- 
turous tears  and  exclamations,  that  he  was  one  of  the  noblest 
young  men  that  ever  lived,  had  acted  as  became  himself,  and 
might  with  perfect  propriety  give  up  the  place,  his  talents 
being  so  prodigious  that  no  power  on  earth  could  hinder  him 
from  being  Lord  Chancellor,  Indeed,  John  and  Lucy  had 
always  thought  the  clerkship  quite  beneath  him,  and  were  not  a 
Uule  g;lad,  perhaps,  at  fiuding  a  pretext  for  decently  refusing  it. 


692  THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

But  as  Perkins  was  a  young  gentleman  whose  candor  was  such 
that  he  was  always  swayed  by  the  opinions  of  the  last  speaker, 
he  did  begin  to  feel  now  the  truth  of  his  uncle's  statements, 
however  disagreeable  they  might  be. 

Mr.  Crampton  continued  : — 

"  I  think  I  know  the  cause  of  your  patriotism.  Has  not 
William  Pitt  Scully,  Esq.,  had  something  to  do  with  it .''  " 

Mr.  Perkins  could  not  turn  any  redder  than  he  was,  but 
confessed  with  deep  humiliation  that  "  he  had  consulted  Mr. 
Scully  among  other  friends." 

Mr.  Crampton  smiled — drew  a  letter  from  a  heap  before 
him,  and  tearing  off  the  signature,  handed  over  the  document 
to  his  nephew.     It  contained  the  following  paragraphs  : — 

"  Hawksby  has  sounded  Scully  :  we  can  have  him  any  day 
we  want  him.  He  talks  very  big  at  present,  and  says  he  would 
not  take  anything  under  a  *  *  *  This  is  absurd.  He 
has  a  Yorkshire  nephew  coming  up  to  town,  and  wants  a  place 
for  him.  There  is  one  vacant  in  the  Tape  Ofhce,  he  says  : 
have  you  not  a  promise  of  it }  " 

"I  can't — I  can't  believe  it,"  said  John  ;  "this,  sir,  is  some 
weak  invention  of  the  enemy.  Scully  is  the  most  honorable 
man  breathing." 

"  Mr.  Scully  is  a  gentleman  in  a  very  fair  way  to  make  a 
fortune,"  answered  Mr.  Crampton.  "  Look  you,  John — it  is 
just  as  well  for  your  sake  that  I  should  give  you  the  news  a 
few  weeks  before  the  papers,  for  I  don't  want  you  to  be  ruined, 
if  I  can  help  it,  as  I  don't  wish  to  have  you  on  my  hands.  We 
know  all  the  particulars  of  Scully's  history.  He  was  a  Tory 
attorney  at  Oldborough  ;  he  was  jilted  by  the  present  Lady 
Gorgon,  turned  Radical,  and  fought  Sir  George  in  his  own 
borough.  Sir  George  would  have  had  the  peerage  he  is  dying 
for,  had  he  not  lost  that  second  seat  (by  the  bye,  my  lady  will 
be  here  in  five  minutes),  and  Scully  is  now  quite  firm  there. 
Well,  my  dear  lad,  we  have  bought  your  incorruptible  Scully. 
Look  here," — and  Mr.  Crampton  produced  three  Mornmg 
J^osts. 

"  '  The  Honorable  Henry  Hawksby's  Dinner-Party. — 
Lord  So-and-So  —  Duke  of  So-and-So — W.  Pitt  Scully,  Esq., 
M.  P.' 

"  Hawksby  is  our  neutral,  our  dinner-giver. 

"  '  Lady  Diana  Doldrum's  Rout. —  W.  Pitt  Scully,  Esq., 
again. 

"  '  The  Earl  of  Mantrap's  Grand  Dinner.' — A  Duke— 
—four  Lords — *  Mr.  Scully,  and  Sir  George  Gorgon.'  " 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.  693 

"  Well,  but  I  don't  see  how  you  have  bought  him  ;  look  at 
his  votes," 

"  My  dear  John,"  said  Mr.  Crampton,  jingling  his  watch- 
seals  very  complacently,  "  I  am  letting  you  into  fearful  secrets. 
The  great  common  end  of  party  is  to  buy  your  opponents — the 
great  statesman  buys  them  for  nothing." 

Here  the  attendant  genius  of  Mr.  Crampton  made  his 
appearance,  and  whispered  something,  to  which  the  little  gen- 
tleman said,  "  Show  her  ladyship  in," — when  the  attendant 
disappeared. 

"  John,"  said  Mr.  Crampton,  with  a  very  queer  smile,  "  you 
can't  stay  in  this  room  while  Lady  Gorgon  is  with  me  ;  but 
there  is  a  little  clerk's  room  behind  the  screen  there,  where  you 
can  wait  until  I  call  you." 

John  retired,  and  as  he  closed  the  door  of  communication, 
strange  to  say,  little  Mr.  Crampton  sprang  up  and  said,  "  Con- 
found the  young  ninny,  he  has  shut  the  door  !  " 

Mr.  Crampton  then,  remembering  that  he  wanted  a  mat  in 
the  next  room,  sprang  into  it,  left  the  door  half  open  in  coming 
out,  and  was  in  time  to  receive  her  ladyship  with  smiling  face 
as  she,  ushered  by  Mr.  Strongitharm,  majestically  sailed  in. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

BEHIND   THE   SCENES. 


In  issuing  from  and  leaving  open  the  door  of  the  inner 
room,  Mr.  Crampton  had  bestowed  upon  Mr,  Perkins  a  look 
so  peculiarly  arch,  that  even  he,  simple  as  he  was,  began  to 
imagine  that  some  mystery  was  about  to  be  cleared  up,  or 
some  mighty  matter  to  be  discussed.  Presently  he  heard  the 
well-known  voice  of  Lady  Gorgon  in  conversation  with  his 
uncle.  What  could  their  talk  be  about?  Mr.  Perkins  was 
dying  to  know,  and,  shall  we  say  it  ?  advanced  to  the  door  on 
tiptoe  and  listened  with  all  his  might. 

Her  ladyship,  that  Juno  of  a  woman,  if  she  had  not  borrowed 
Venus's  girdle  to  render  herself  irresistible,  at  least  had  adopted 
a  tender,  coaxing,  wheedling,  frisky  tone,  quite  different  front 
her  ordinary  dignified  style  of  conversation.  She  called  Mr. 
Crampton  a  naughty  man,  for  neglecting  his  old  friends,  vowed 


694  "^^^  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

that  Sif  George  was  quite  hurt  at  his  not  coming  to  dine — nor 
fixing  a  day  when  he  would  come — and  added,  with  a  most 
engaging  ogte,  that  she  had  three  fine  girls  at  home,  who  would 
perhaps  make  an  evening  pass  pleasantly,  even  to  such  a  gay 
bachelor  as  Mr.  Crampton, 

"Madam,"  said  he,  with  much  gravity,  "the  daughters  of 
such  a  raothei'  must  be  charming ;  but  I,,  who  have  seen  your 
Jadyship,  am,  alas  !  proof  against  even  them." 

Both  parties  here  heaved  tremendous  sighs,,  and  affected  to 
be  wonderfully  unhappy  about  something. 

"  I  wish,"  after  a  pause  said  Lady  Gorgon — "  I  wish,  dear 
Mr.  Crampton,  you  would  not  use  that  odious  title  'my  lady- 
ship/ you  know  it  always  makes  me  melancholy." 

"  Melancholy,  my  dear  Lady  Gorgon,  and  why?" 

"Because  it  makes  me  think  of  another  title  that  ought  to 
have  been  mine — ours  (I  speak  for  dear  Sir  George's  and  my 
darling  boy's  sake,  heaven  knows,  not  mine).  What  a  sad  dis- 
appointment it  has  been  to  my  husband,  that  after  all  his 
services,  all  the  promises  he  has  had,  they  have  never  given 
him  his  peerage.     As  for  me,  you  know ^" 

"  For  you,  my  dear  madam,  I  know  quite  well  that  you  care 
for  no  such  bauble  as  a  coronet,  except  in  so  far  as  it  may  con- 
fer honor  upon  those  most  dear  to  you — excellent  wife  and 
noble  mother  as  you  are.  Heigho  1  what  a  happy  man  is  Sir 
George ! " 

Here  there  was  another  pause,  and  if  Mr.  Perkins  could 
have  seen  what  was  taking  place  behind  the  screen,  lie  would 
have  beheld  little  Mr.  Crampton  looking  into  Lady  Gorgon's 
face,  with  as  love-sick  a  Romeo-gaze  as  he  could  possibly 
counterfeit ;  while  her  ladyship,  blushing  somewhat  and  turning 
her  own  gray  gogglers  up  to  heaven,  received  all  his  words  for 
gospel,  and  sat  fancying  herself  to  be  the  best,  most  meritori- 
ous, and  most  beautiful  creature  in  the  three  kingdoms. 

"You  men  are  terrible  flatterers,"'  continued  she  ;  "but  you 
say  right ;  for  myself  I  value  not  these  empty  distinctions.  I 
am  growing  old,  Mr.  Crampton, — yes,  indeed,  I  am,  although 
you  smile  so  incredulously, — and  let  me  add,  that  my  thoughts 
are  fixed  upon  Iiigfter  things  than  earthly  crowns.  But  tell  me, 
you  who  are  all  in  all  with  Lord  Bagwig,  are  we  never  to  have 
our  peerage  ?  His  Majesty,  I  know,  is  not  averse  ;  the  services 
of  dear  Sir  George  to  a  member  of  his  Majesty's  august  family, 
I  know,  have  been  appreciated  in  the  highest  quarter.  Ever 
since  the  peace  we  have  had  a  promise.  Four  hundred  pounds 
has  Sir  George  spent  at  the  Herald's  Office^  (I  myself  am  o^ 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.  695 

one  of  the  most  ancient  families  in  the  kingdom,  Mr.  Crampton,) 
and  the  poor  dear  man's  health  is  really  ruined  by  the  anxious, 
sickening  feeling  of  hope  so  long  delayed." 

Mr.  Crampton  now  assumed  an  air  of  much  solemnity. 

"  My  dear  Lady  Gorgon,"  said  he,  "  will  you  let  me  be  frank 
with  you,  and  will  you  promise  solemnly  that  what  1  am  going 
to  tell  you  shall  uever  be  repeated  to  a  single  soul  ?  " 

Lady  Gorgon  promised. 

"  Well,  then,  since  the  truth  you  must  know,  you  yourselves 
have  been  in  part  the  cause  of  the  delay  of  which  you  complain. 
You  gave  us  two  votes  five  years  ago,  you  now  only  give  us  one. 
If  Sir  George  were  to  go  up  to  the  Peers,  we  should  lose  even 
that  one  vote  ;  and  would  it  be  common  sense  in  us  to  incur 
such  a  loss  ?  Mr.  Scully,  the  liberal,  would  return  another 
Member  of  his  own  way  of  thinking  ;  and  as  for  the  Lords,  we 
have,  you  know,  a  majority  there." 

"  Oh,  that  horrid  man  ! "  said  Lady  Gorgon,  cursing  Mr. 
Scully  in  her  heart,  and  beginning  to  play  a  rapid  tattoo  with 
her  feet,  "that  miscreant,  that  traitor,  that — that  attorney  has 
been  our  ruin." 

"  Horrid  man  if  you  please,  but  give  me  leave  to  tell  you 
that  the  horrid  man  is  not  the  sole  cause  of  your  ruin — if  ruin 
yon  will  call  it.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  do  candidly  think 
Ministers  think  that  Sir  George  Gorgon  has  lost  his  influence 
in  Oldborough  as  much  through  his  own  fault  as  through  Mr. 
Scully's  cleverness." 

"  Our  own  fault !  Good  heavens !  Have  we  not  done 
everything — everything  that  persons  of  our  station  in  the 
county  could  do,  to  keep  those  misguided  men  ?  Have  we  not 
remonstrated,  threatened,  taken  away  our  custom  from  the 
Mayor,  established  a  Conservative  apothecary — in  fact  done 
all  that  gentlemen  could  do  ?  But  these  are  such  times,  Mr. 
Crampton  :  the  spirit  of  revolution  is  abroad,  and  the  great 
families  of  England  are  menaced  by  democratic  insolence." 

This  was  Sir  George  Gorgon's  speech  always  after  dinner, 
and  was  delivered  by  his  lady  with  a  great  deal  of  stateliness. 
Somewhat,  perhaps,  to  her  annoyance,  Mr.  Crampton  only 
smiled,  shook  his  head,  and  said — 

"  Nonsense,  my  dear  Lady  Gorgon — pardon  the  phrase,  but 
I  am  a  plain  old  inan,  and  call  things  by  their  names.  Now, 
will  you  let  me  whisper  in  your  ear  one  word  of  truth  ?  You 
have  tried  all  sorts  of  rennonstrances,  and  exerted  yourself  to 
maintain  your  influence  in  every  way,  except  the  right  one  and 
that  is " 


696 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 


"  What,  in  heaven's  name  ?  " 

"  Conciliation.  We  know  j'our  situation  in  the  borough, 
Mr.  Scully's  whole  history,  and,  pardon  me  for  saying  so  (but 
we  men  in  office  know  everything),  yours " 

Lady  Gorgon's  ears  and  cheeks  now  assumed  the  hottest 
hue  of  crimson.  She  thought  of  her  former  passages  with 
Scully,  and  of  the  days  when — but  never  mind  when  :  for  she 
suffered  her  veil  to  fall,  and  buried  her  head  \\\  the  folds  of  her 
handkerchief.  Vain  folds !  The  wily  little  Mr.  Crampton 
could  see  all  that  passed  behind  the  cambric,  and  continued — ■ 

"  Yes,  madam,  we  know  the  absurd  hopes  that  were  formed 
by  a  certain  attorney  twenty  years  since.  We  know  how,  up  to 
this  moment,  he  boasts  of  certain  walks " 

"  With  the  governess — we  were  always  with  the  governess  !  " 
shrieked  out  Lady  Gorgon,  clasping  her  hands.  "  She  was  not 
the  wisest  of  women." 

"  With  the  governess  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Crampton,  firmly. 
"  Do  you  suppose  that  any  man  dare  breathe  a  syllable  against 
your  spotless  reputation  t  Never,  my  dear  madam  ;  but  what 
I  would  urge  is  this — you  have  treated  your  disappointed  ad- 
mirer too  cruelly." 

"  What !  the  traitor  who  has  robbed  us  of  our  rights  ?  " 

"  He  never  would  have  robbed  you  of  your  rights  if  you  had 
been  more  kind  to  him.  You  should  be  gentle,  madam  ;  you 
should  forgive  him — you  should  be  friends  with  him." 

"  With  a  traitor,  never  !  " 

"  Think  what  made  him  a  traitor,  Lady  Gorgon  ;  look  in 
your  glass,  and  say  if  there  be  not  some  excuse  for  him  1  Think 
of  the  feelings  of  the  man  who  saw  beauty  such  as  yours — I  am 
a  plain  man  and  must  speak — virtue  such  as  yours,  in  the 
possession  of  a  rival.  By  heavens,  madam,  I  think  he  was 
j-ight  to  hate  Sir  George  Gorgon  !  Would  you  have  him  allow 
such  a  prize  to  be  ravished  from  him  without  a  pang  on  his 
part  ?  " 

"  He  was,  I  believe,  very  much  attached  to  me,"  said  Lady 
Gorgon,  quite  delighted  ;  "  but  you  must  be  aware  that  a  young 
man  of  his  station  in  life  could  not  look  up  to  a  person  of  my 
rank." 

"  Surely  not :  it  was  monstrous  pride  and  arrogance  in  Mr. 
Scully.  But  que  voulez-vous  i  Such  is  the  world's  way.  Scully 
could  not  help  loving  you — who  that  knows  you  can  ?  I  am  a 
plain  man,  and  say  what  I  think.  He  loves  you  still.  Why 
make  an*  enemy  of  him,  who  would  at  a  word  be  at  your  feet  ? 
Dearest  Lady  Gorgon,  listen  to  me.     Sir  George  Gorgon  and 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.  697 

Mr.  Scully  have  already  met — their  meeting  was  our  contriv- 
ance. It  is  for  our  interest,  for  yours,  that  they  should  be 
friends.  If  there  were  two  Ministerial  Members  for  Old- 
borough,  do  you  think  your  husband's  peerage  would  be  less 
secure  ?  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  tell  you  all  I  know  on  this 
subject ;  but  do,  I  entreat  you,  be  reconciled  to  him." 

And  after  a  little  more  conversation,  which  was  carried  on 
by  Mr.  Crampton  in  the  same  tender  way,  this  important  inter- 
view closed,  and  I.ady  Gorgon,  folding  her  shawl  round  her, 
threaded  certain  mysterious  passages  and  found  her  way  to  her 
carriage  in  Whitehall. 

"  I  hope  you  have  not  been  listening,  you  rogue  .''  "  said  Mr. 
Crampton  to  his  nephew,  who  blushed  most  absurdly  by  way  of 
answer.  "  You  would  have  heard  great  State  secrets,  if  you 
had  dared  to  do  so.  That  woman  is  perpetually  here,  and  if 
peerages  are  to  be  had  for  the  asking,  she  ought  to  have  been 
a  duchess  by  this  time.  I  would  not  have  admitted  her  but  for 
a  reason  that  I  have.  Go  you  now  and  ponder  upon  what  you 
have  heard  and  seen.  Be  on  good  terms  with  Scully,  and, 
above  all,  speak  not  a  word  concerning  our  interview — no,  not 
a  word  even  to  your  mistress.  By  the  way,  I  presume,  sir,  you 
will  recall  your  resignation  ?  " 

The  bewildered  Perkins  was  about  to  stammer  out  a  speech, 
when  his  uncle,  cutting  it  short,  pushed  him  gently  out  of  the 
door. 

*  #  *  *  * 

At  the  period  when  tbe  important  events  occurred  which 
have  been  recorded  here,  parties  ran  very  high,  and  a  mighty 
struggle  for  the  vacant  Speakership  was  about  to  come  on. 
The  Right  Honorable  Robert  Pincher  was  the  Ministerial  can- 
didate, and  Sir  Charles  Macabaw  was  patronized  by  the  Oppo- 
sition. The  two  Members  for  Oldborough  of  course  took 
different  sides,  the  baronet  being  of  the  Pincher  faction,  while 
Mr.  William  Pitt  Scully  strongly  supported  the  Macabaw  party. 

It  was  Mr.  Scully's  intention  to  deliver  an  impromptu 
■speech  upon  the  occasion  of  the  election,  and  he  and  his  faith- 
ful Perkins  prepared  it  between  them  :  for  the  latter  gentleman 
had  wisely  kept  his  uncle's  counsel  and  his  own,  and  Mr. 
Scully  was  quite  ignorant  of  the  conspiracy  that  was  brooding. 
Indeed  so  artfully  had  that  young  Machiavel  of  a  Perkins 
conducted  himself,  that  when  asked  by  his  patron  whether 
he  had  given  up  his  place  in  the  Tape  and  Sealing-Wax  Office, 
he  replied  that  "  he  had  tendered  his  resignation,"  but  did  not 
say  one  word  about  having  recalled  it. 


698  THE  BEDFORD-ROIV  CONSPIRACY. 

"  You  were  right,  my  boy,  quite  right,"  said  Mr.  Scully. 
"  A  man  of  uncompromising  principles  should  make  no  com- 
promise." And  herewith  he  sat  down  and  wrote  off  a  couple 
of  letters,  one  to  Mr.  Hawksby,  telling  him  that  the  place  in 
the  Sealing-VVax  Office  was,  as  he  had  reason  to  know,  vacant : 
ind  the  other  to  his  nephew,  stating  that  it  was  to  be  his. 
"'  Under  the  Rose,  my  dear  Bob,"  added  Mr.  Scully,  "  it  will 
cost  you  five  hundred  pounds  ;  but  you  cannot  invest  your 
money  better." 

It  is  needless  to  state  that  the  affair  was  to  be  conducted 
"with  the  strictest  secrecy  and  honor,"  and  that  the  money  was 
to  pass  through  Mr.  Scully's  hands. 

While,  however,  the  great  Pincher  and  Macabaw  question 
was  yet  undecided,  an  event  occurred  to  Mr.  Scully,  which  had 
a  great  influence  upon  his  after-life.  A  second  grand  banquet 
was  given  at  the  Earl  of  Mantrap's  :  Lady  Mantrap  requested 
him  to  conduct  Lady  Gorgon  to  dinner  ;  and  the  latter,  with  a 
charming  timidity,  and  a  gracious  melancholy  look  into  his  face 
(after  which  her  veined  eyelids  veiled  her  azure  eyes),  put  her 
hand  into  the  trembling  one  of  Mr.  Scully  and  said,  as  much  as 
looks  could  say,  "  Forgive  and  forget." 

Down  went  Scully  to  dinner.  There  were  dukes  on  his 
right  hand  and  earls  on  his  left ;  there  were  but  two  persons 
without  title  in  the  midst  of  that  glittering  assemblage  ;  the 
very  servants  looked  like  noblemen.  The  cook  had  done 
wonders  ;  the  wines  were  cool  and  rich,  and  Lady  Gorgon  was 
splendid  !  What  attention  did  everybody  pay  to  her  and  to 
him  !  Why  would  she  go  on  gazing  into  his  face  with  that 
tender,  imploring  look  ?  In  other  words,  Scully,  after  partak- 
ing of  soup  and  fish,  (he,  during  their  discussion,  had  been 
thinking  over  all  the  former  love-and-hate  passages  between 
himself  and  Lady  Gorgon),  turned  very  red,  and  began  talking 
to  her. 

"  Were  you  not  at  the  opera  on  Tuesday  ?  "  began  he,  as- 
suming at  once  the  airs  of  a  man  of  fashion.  "  I  thought  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  you  in  the  Duchess  of  Diddlebury's  box." 

"  Opera,  Mr.  Scully  .-'  "  (pronouncing  the  word  "  Scully  " 
with  the  utmost  softness.)  "  Ah,  no  !  we  seldom  go,  and  yet 
too  often.  For  serious  persons  the  enchantments  of  that  place 
are  too  dangerous.  I  am  so  nervous — so  delicate  ;  the  smallest 
trifle  so  agitates,  depresses,  or  irritates  me,  that  I  dare  not 
yield  myself  up  to  the  excitement  of  music.  I  am  too  passion- 
ately attached  to  it ;  and,  shall  I  tell  you  ?  it  has  such  a  strange 
influence  upon  me,  that  the  smallest  false  note  almost  drives 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY  699 

me  to  distraction,  and  for  that  ver^'  reason  I  hardly  ever  go  to 
a  concert  or  a  ball." 

"  Egad,"  thought  Scully,  "  I  recollect  when  she  would  dance 
down  a  matter  of  five-and-forty  couple,  and  jingle  away  at  the 
'Battle  of  Prague  '  all  day." 

She  continued  :  "  Don't  you  recollect,  I  do,  with — oh,  what 
regret ! — that  day  at  Oldborough  race-ball,  when  I  behaved 
with  such  sad  rudeness  to  you  "i  You  will  scarcely  believe  me, 
and  yet  I  assure  you  'tis  the  fact,  the  music  had  made  me 
almost  mad.  Do  let  me  ask  your  pardon  for  my  conduct.  I 
was  not  myself.  Oh,  Mr.  Scully  !  I  am  no  worldly  woman  ;  I 
know  my  duties,  and  I  feel  my  wrongs.  Nights  and  nights 
have  I  lain  awake  weeping  and  thinking  of  that  unhappy  day 
• — til  at  I  should  ever  speak  so  to  an  old  friend  :  for  we  were  old 
friends,  were  we  not  ?  " 

Scully  did  not  speak ;  but  his  eyes  were  bursting  out  of  his 
head,  and  his  face  was  the  exact  color  of  a  deputy-lieutenant's 
uniform. 

"  That  I  should  ever  forget  myself  and  you  so  !  How  I 
have  been  longing  for  this  opportunity  to  ask  you  to  forgive 
me !  I  asked  Lady  Mantrap,  when  I  heard  you  were  to  be 
here,  to  invite  me  to  her  party.  Come,  I  know  you  will  forgive 
me — your  eyes  say  5'ou  will.  You  used  to  look  so  in  old  days, 
and  forgive  me  my  caprices  then.  Do  give  me  a  little  wine — • 
we  will  drink  to  the  memory  of  old  days." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears  ;  and  poor  Scully's  hand  caused 
such  a  rattling  and  trembling  of  the  glass  and  the  decanter 
that  the  Duke  of  Doldrum — who  had  been,  during  the  course 
of  tliis  whispered  sentimentality,  describing  a  famous  run  with 
the  Queen's  hounds  at  the  top  of  his  voice — stopped  at  the 
jingling  of  the  glass,  and  his  tale  was  lost  forever.  Scully 
hastily  drank  his  wine,  and  Lady  Gorgon  turned  round  to  her 
next  neighbor,  a  little  gentleman  in  black,  between  whom  and 
herself  certain  conscious  looks  passed. 

"  I  am  glad  poor  Sir  George  is  not  here,"  said  he,  smiling. 

Lady  Gorgon  said,  "  Pooh  for  shame  !  The  little  gentle- 
man was  no  other  than  Josiah  Crampton,  Esq.,  that  eminent 
financier,  and  he  was  now  going  through  the  curious  calcu- 
lation before  mentioned,  by  which  you  buy  a  ifian  for  nothing. 
He  intended  to  pay  the  very  same  price  for  Sir  George  Gorgon, 
too,  but  there  was  no  need  to  tell  the  baronet  so ;  only  of  this 
the  reader  must  be  made  aware. 

While  ]\Ir.  Crampton  was  conducting  this  intrigue,  which 
was  to  bring  a  new  recruit  to  the  Ministerial  ranks,  his  mighty 

45 


700 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 


spirit  condescended  to  ponder  upon  subjects  of  infinitely  less 
importance,  and  to  arrange  plans  for  the  welfare  of  his  nephew 
and  the  young  woman  to  whom  he  had  made  a  present  of  his 
heart.  These  young  persons,  as  we  said  before,  had  arranged 
to  live  in  Mr.  Perkins's  own  house  in  Bedford  Row.  It  was  of  a 
peculiar  construction,  and  might  more  properly  be  called  a 
house  and  a  half :  for  a  snug  little  tenement  of  four  chambers 
protruded  from  the  back  nf  the  house  into  the  garden.  These 
rooms  communicated  with  the  drawing-rooms  occupied  by  Mr. 
Scully  ;  and  Perkins,  who  acted  as  his  friend  and  secretary, 
used  frequently  to  sit  in  the  one  nearest  the  Member's  study, 
hi  order  that  he  might  be  close  at  hand  to  confer  with  that 
great  man.  The  rooms  had  a  private  entrance  too,  were  newly 
decorated,  and  in  them  the  young  couple  proposed  to  live  ;  the 
kitchen  and  garrets  being  theirs  likewise.  What  more  could 
they  need  }  We  are  obliged  to  be  particular  in  describing  these 
apartments,  for  extraordinar}^  events  occurred  therein. 

To  say  the  truth,  until  the  present  period  Mr.  Crampton 
had  taken  no  great  interest  in  his  nephew's  marriage,  or, 
indeed,  in  the  young  man  himself.  The  old  gentleman  was  of 
a  saturnine  turn,  and  inclined  to  undervalue  the  qualities  of  Mr. 
Perkins,  which  were  idleness,  simplicity,  enthusiasm,  and  easy 
good-nature. 

"  Such  fellows  never  do  anything  in  the  world,"  he  would 
say,  and  for  such  he  had  accordingly  the  most  profound  con- 
tempt. But  when,  after  John  Perkins's  repeated  entreaties,  he 
had  been  induced  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Miss  Gorgon, 
he  became  instantly  charmed  with  her,  and  warmly  espoused 
her  cause  against  her  overbearing  relation. 

At  his  suggestion  she  wrote  back  to  decline  Sir  George 
Gorgon's  peremptory  invitation,  and  hinted  at  the  same  time 
that  she  had  attained  an  age  and  a  position  which  enabled  her 
to  be  the  mistress  of  her  own  actions.  To  this  letter  there 
came  an  answer  from  Lady  Gorgon  which  we  shall  not  copy, 
but  which  simply  stated  that  Miss  Lucy  Gorgon's  conduct  was 
unchristian,  ungrateful,  unladylike,  and  immodest ;  that  the 
Gorgon  family  disowned  her  for  the  future,  and  left  her  at 
liberty  to  form  whatever  base  connections  she  pleased. 

*'  A  pretty  world  this,"  said  Mr.  Crampton,  in  a  great  rage, 
when  the  letter  was  shown  to  him.  "This  same  fellow,  Scully, 
dissuades  my  nephew  from  taking  a  place,  because  Scully  wants 
it  for  himself.  This  prude  of  a  Lady  Gorgon  cries  out  shame, 
and  disowns  an  innocent  amiable  girl  :  she  a  heartless  jilt 
lierself  once,  and  a  heartless  flirt  now.  The  Pharisees,  the 
Pharisees  !     And  to  call  mine  a  base  family,  tool  " 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 


701 


Now,  Lady  Gorgon  did  not  in  the  least  know  Mr,  Crampton's 
connection  with  Mr.  Perkins,  or  she  would  have  been  much 
more  guarded  in  her  language  ;  but  whether  she  knew  it  or  not, 
the  old  gentleman  felt  a  huge  indignation,  and  determined  to 
have  his  revenge. 

"  That's  right,  uncle  !  Shall  I  call  Gorgon  out !  "  said  the 
impetuous  young  Perkins,  who  was  all  for  blood. 

"John,  you  are  a  fool,"  said  his  uncle,  "You  shall  have 
a  better  revenge  :  you  shall  be  married  from  Sir  George 
Gorgon's  house,  and  you  shall  see  Mr,  William  Pitt  Scully  sold 
for  nothing."  This  to  the  veteran  diplomatist  seemed  to  be 
the  highest  triumph  which  man  could  possibly  enjoy. 

It  was  very  soon  to  take  place  :  and,  as  has  been  the  case 
ever  since  the  world  began,  woman,  lovely  woman  was  to  be 
the  cause  of  Scully's  fall.  The  tender  scene  at  Lord  Mantrap's 
was  followed  by  many  others  equally  sentimental.  Sir  George 
Gorgon  called  upon  his  colleague  the  very  next  day,  and 
brought  with  him  a  card  from  Lady  Gorgon  inviting  Mr.  Scully 
to  dinner.  The  attorney  eagerly  accepted  the  invitation,  was 
received  in  Baker  Street  by  the  whole  amiable  family  with 
much  respectful  cordiality,  and  was  pressed  to  repeat  his  visits 
as  country  neighbors  should.  More  than  once  did  he  call,  and 
somehow  always  at  the  hour  when  Sir  George  was  away  at  his 
club,  or  riding  in  the  Park,  or  elsewhere  engaged.  Sir  George 
Gorgon  was  very  old,  very  feeble,  very  much  chattered  in  con- 
stitution. Lady  Gorgon  used  to  impart  her  fears  to  Mr.  Scully 
every  time  he  called  there,  and  the  sympathizing  attorney  used 
to  console  her  as  best  he  might.  Sir  George's  country  agent 
neglected  the  property — his  lady  consulted  Mr.  Scully  concern- 
ing it.  He  knew  to  a  fraction  how  large  her  jointure  was  ; 
how  she  was  to  have  Gorgon  Castle  for  her  life  ;  and  how,  in 
the  event  of  the  young  baronet's  death  (he,  too,  was  a  sickly 
poor  boy),  the  chief  part  of  the  estates,  bought  by  her  money, 
would  be  at  her  absolute  disposal. 

"  What  a  pity  these  odious  politics  prevent  me  from  hav- 
ing you  for  our  agent,"  would  Lady  Gorgon  say  ;  and  indeed 
Scully  thought  it  was  a  pity  too.  Ambitious  Scully  !  what  wild 
notions  filled  his  brain.  He  used  to  take  leave  of  Lady  Gor- 
gon and  ruminate  upon  these  things  ;  and  when  he  was  gone, 
Sir  George  and  her  ladyship  used  to  laugh. 

"If  we  can  but  commit  him — if  we  can  but  make  him 
vote  for  Pincher,"  said  the  General,  "  ray  peerage  is  secure; 
Hawksby  and  Crampton  as  good  as  told  me  sc." 

The  point  had  been  urged  upon  Mr.  Scully  repeatedly  and 


702 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 


adroitly.  "  Is  not  Pincher  a  more  experienced  man  than 
Macabaw  ?  "  would  Sir  George  say  to  his  guest  over  their  wine. 
Scully  allowed  it.  "  Can't  you  vote  for  him  on  {personal  grounds, 
and  say  so  in  the  House  ?  "  Scully  wished  he  could, — how  he 
wished  he  could !  Every  time  the  General  coughed,  Scully 
saw  his  friend's  desperate  situation  more  and  more,  and  thought 
how  pleasant  it  would  be  to  be  lord  of  Gorgon  Castle.  "  Know- 
ing my  property,"  cried  Sir  George,  "as  you  do,  and  with  ycur 
talents  and  integrity,  what  a  comfort  it  would  be  could  I  leave 
you  as  guardian  to  my  boy  !  But  these  cursed  politics  prevent 
it,  my  dear  fellow.  Why  w///  you  be  a  Radical  ?  "  And 
Scully  cursed  politics  too.  "  Hang  the  low-bred  rogue,"  added 
Sir  George,  when  William  Pitt  Scully  left  the  house  :  "  he  will 
do  anything  but  promise." 

"  My  dear  General,"  said  Lady  Gorgon,  sidling  up  to  him 
and  patting  him  on  his  old  yellow  cheek — ''  My  dear  Georgy, 
tell  me  one  thing, — are  you  jealous  t  " 

"Jealous,  my  dear  !  and  jealous  of  tJiat  fellow — pshaw  !  " 
"  Well,  then,  give  me  leave,  and  you  shall  have  the  promise 

to-morrow." 

***** 

To-morrow  arrived.  It  was  a  remarkably  fine  day,  and  in 
the  forenoon  Mr.  Perkins  gave  his  accustomed  knock  at  Scully's 
study,  which  was  only  separated  from  his  own  sitting-room  by  a 
double  door.  John  had  wisely  followed  his  uncle's  advice,  and 
was  on  the  best  terms  with  the  honorable  Member. 

"  Here  are  a  few  sentences,"  said  he,  "  which  I  think  may 
suit  your  purpose.  Great  public  services — undeniable  meri;  — 
years  of  integrity — cause  of  reform,  and  Macabaw  forever !  "' 
He  put  down  the  paper.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  speech  in  favor  of 
Mr.  Macabaw. 

"Hush,"  said  Scully,  rather  surlily:  for  he  was  thinking 
how  disagreeable  it  was  to  support  Macabaw  ;  and  besides, 
there  were  clerks  in  the  room,  whom  the  thoughtless  Perkins 
had  not  at  first  perceived.  As  soon  as  that  gentleman  saw 
them,  "  You  are.  busy,  I  see,"  continued  he  in  a  lower  tone. 
"  I  came  to  say  that  I  must  be  off  duty  to-day,  for  I  am 
engaged  to  take  a  walk  with  some  ladies  of  my  acquaintance." 

So  saying,  the  light-hearted  young  man  placed  his  hat  un- 
ceremoniously on  his  head,  and  went  off  through  his  own  door, 
humming  a  song.  He  was  in  such  high  spirits  that  he  did  not 
even  think  of  closing  the  doors  of  communication,  and  Scully 
looked  a*"ter  him  with  a  sneer. 

"  Ladies,  forsooth,"  thought  he  ;    "  I  know  who   Ihey  are 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 


703 


This  precious  girl  that  he  is  fooling  with,  for  one,  I  suppose." 
He  was  right :  Perkins  was  off  on  the  wings  of  love,  to  see 
Miss  Lucy  ;  and  she  and  aunt  Biggs  and  uncle  Crampton  had 
promised  this  very  day  to  come  to  look  at  the  apartments 
which  Mrs.  John  Perkins  was  to  occupy  with  her  happy  hus- 
band. 

"Poor  devil,"  so  continued  Mr.  Scully's  meditations,  "it 
is  almost  too  bad  to  do  him  out  of  his  place  ;  but  my  Bob  wants 
it,  and  John's  girl  has,  I  hear,  seven  thousand  pounds.  His 
uncle  will  get  him  another  place  before  all  that  money  is  spent." 
And  herewith  Mr.  Scully  began  conning  the  speech  which  Per- 
kins had  made  for  him. 

He  had  not  read  it  more  than  six  times, — in  truth,  he  was 
getting  it  by  heart, — when  his  head  clerk  came  to  him  from  the 
front  room,  bearing  a  card  :  a  footman  had  brought  it,  who 
said  his  lady  was  waiting  below.  Lady  Gorgon's  name  was  on 
the  card  !  To  seize  his  hat  and  rush  down  stairs  was,  with  Mr. 
Scully,  the  work  of  an  infinitesimal  portion  of  time. 

It  was  indeed  Lady  Gorgon,  in  her  Gorgonian  chariot. 

"  Mr.  Scullv,"  said  she,  popping  her  head  out  of  window 
and  smiling  in  a  most  engaging  wa}^,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you 
on  something  very  particular  indeed'''' — and  she  held  him  out 
her  hand.  Scully  pressed  it  most  tenderly  :  he  hoped  all  heads 
in  Bedford  Row  were  at  the  windows  to  see  him.  "  I  can't  ask 
you  into  the  carriage,  for  you  see  the  governess  is  with  me,  and 
I  want  to  talk  secrets  to  you." 

"  Shall  I  go  and  make  a  little  promenade  ? "  said  mademoi- 
selle, innocently.     And  her  mistress  hated  her  for  that  speech, 

"No.  Mr.  Scully,  I  am  sure,  will  let  me  come  in  for  five 
minutes  ? " 

Mr.  Scully  was  only  too  happy.  My  lady  descended  and 
walked  up  stairs,  leaning  on  the  happy  solicitor's  arm.  But 
how  should  he  manage  ?  The  front  room  was  consecrated  to 
clerks  ;  there  were  clerks  too,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  in  his 
private  room.  "  Perkins  is  out  for  the  day,"  thought  Scully  ; 
"  I  will  take  her  into  his  room."  And  into  Perkins's  room  he 
took  her — ay,  and  he  shut  the  double  doors  after  him  too,  and 
trembled  as  he  thought  of  his  own  happiness. 

"  What  a  charming  little  stud}',"  said  Lady  Gorgon,  seating 
herself.  And  indeed  it  was  very  pretty :  for  Perkins  had 
furnished  it  beautifully,  and  laid  out  a  neat  tray  with  cakes,  a 
cold  fowl,  and  sherry,  to  entertain  his  party  withal.  "And  do 
you  bachelors  always  live  so  well.''  "  continued  she,  pointing  to 
the  little  cold  collation. 


704 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 


Mr.  Scully  looked  rather  blank  when  he  saw  it,  and  a  dread- 
fill  suspicion  crossed  his  soul  ;  but  there  was  no  need  to  trouble 
Lady  Gorgon  with  explanations  :  therefore,  at  once,  and  with 
much  presence  of  rnind,  he  asked  her  to  partake  of  his  bach- 
elor's fare  (she  would  refuse  Mr.  Scully  nothing  that  day).  A  ' 
pretty  sight  would  it  have  been  for  young  Perkins  to  see 
strangers  so  unceremoniously  devouring  his  feasts.  She  drank 
— Mr.  Scully  drank — and  so  emboldened  was  he  by  the  draught 
that  he  actually  seated  himself  by  the  side  of  Lady  Gorgon,  on 
John  Perkins's  new  sofa. 

Her  ladyship  had  of  course  something  to  say  to  him.  She 
was  a  pious  woman,  and  had  suddenly  conceived  a  violent  wish 
for  building  a  chapel-of-ease  at  Oldborough,  to  which  she 
entreated  him  to  subscribe.  She  enlarged  upon  the  benefits 
that  the  town  would  derive  from  it,  spoke  of  Sunday-schools, 
sweet  spiritual  instruction,  and  the  duty  of  all  well-minded  per- 
sons to  give  aid  to  the  scheme. 

"  I  will  subscribe  a  hundred  pounds,"  said  Scully,  at  the 
end  of  her  ladyship's  harangue  :  "  would  I  not  do  anything  fol 
you  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,  dear  Mr.  Scully,"  said  the  enthu- 
siastic woman.  (How  the  "  dear  "  went  burning  through  his 
soul  !)  "  Ah  !  "  added  she,  "  if  you  would  but  do  anything  for 
me — if  you,  who  are  so  eminently,  so  truly  distinguished,  in  a 
religious  point  of  view,  would  but  see  the  truth  in  politics  too  ; 
and  if  I  could  see  your  name  among  those  of  the  true  patriot 
party  in  this  empire,  how  blest — oh  !  how  blest,  should  I  be  ! 
Poor  Sir  George  often  says  he  should  go  to  his  grave  happy, 
could  he  but  see  you  the  guardian  of  liis  boy ;  and  I,  your  old 
friend,  (for  we  were  friends,  William,)  how  have  I  wept  to  think 
of  you  as  one  of  those  who  are  bringing  our  monarchy  to  ruin. 
Do,  do  promise  me  this  too  !  "  And  she  took  his  hand  and 
pressed  it  between  hers. 

The  heart  of  William  Pitt  Scully,  during  this  speech,  was 
thumping  up  and  down  with  a  frightful  velocity  and  strength. 
His  old  love,  the  agency  of  the  Gorgon  property — the  dear 
wddow — five  thousand  a  year  clear — a  thousand  delicious  hopes 
rushed  madly  through  his  brain,  and  almost  took  away  his 
reason.  And  there  she  sat — she,  the  loved  one,  pressing  his 
hand  and  looking  softly  into  his  eyes. 

Down,  down  he  plumped  on  his  knees. 

"Juliana!"  shrieked  he,  "don't  take  away  your  hand"! 
My  love  —  my  only  love!  —  speak  but  those  blessed  words 
again  !  Call  me  William  once  more,  and  do  with  me  what  you- 
will." 


THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY.  yo$ 

Juliana  cast  down  her  eyes  and  said,  in  tlie  very  smallest 
t}'pe, 

"  William !  " 
***** 

— when  the  door  opened,  and  in  walked  Mr.  Crampton,  leading 
Mrs.  Biggs,  who  could  hardly  contain  herself  for  laughing,  and 
Mr.  John  Perkins,  who  was  squeezing  the  arm  of  Miss  Lucy, 
They  had  heard  every  word  of  the  two  last  speeches. 

For  at  the  very  moment  when  Lady  Gorgon  had  stopped  at 
Mr.  Scully's  door,  the  four  above-named  individuals  had  issued 
from  Great  James  Street  into  Bedford  Row. 

Lucy  cried  out  that  it  was  her  aunt's  carriage,  and  they  all 
saw  Mr.  Scully  come  out,  bare-headed,  in  the  sunshine,  and  my 
lady  descend,  and  the  pair  go  into  the  house.  They  meanwhile 
entered  by  Mr.  Perkins's  own  private  door,  and  had  been  occu- 
pied in  examining  the  delightful  rooms  on  the  ground-floor, 
which  were  to  be  his  dining-room  and  library — from  which  they 
ascended  a  stair  to  visit  the  other  two  rooms,  which  were  to 
form  Mrs.  John  Perkins's  drawing-room  and  bedroom.  Now 
whether  it  was  that  they  trod  softly,  or  that  the  stairs  were 
covered  with  a  grand  new  carpet  and  drugget,  as  was  the  case, 
or  that  the  party  within  were  too  much  occupied  in  themselves 
to  heed  any  outward  disturbances,  I  know  not ;  but  Lucy,  who 
was  advancing  with  John,  (he  was  saying  something  about  one 
of  the  apartments,  the  rogue  !) — Lucy  suddenly  started  and 
whispered,  "There  is  somebody  in  the  rooms  !"  and  at  that 
instant  began  the  speech  already  reported,  "  Thank  you,  thank 
you,  dear  Afr.  Scully,^''  &c.,  &c.,  which  was  delivered  by  Lady 
Gorgon  in  a  full,  clear  voice  ;  for,  to  do  her  ladyship  justice, 
she  had  not  one  single  grain  of  love  for  Mr.  Scully,  and,  during 
the  delivery  of  her  little  oration,  was  as  cool  as  the  coolest 
cucumber. 

Then  began  the  impassioned  rejoinder,  to  which  the  four 
listened  on  the  landing-place ;  and  then  the  little  "  IVilliam,'^ 
as  narrated  above  :  at  which  juncture  Mr.  Crampton  thought 
proper  to  rattle  at  the  door,  and  after  a  brief  pause,  to  enter 
with  his  part}'. 

"  William  "  had  had  time  to  bounce  off  his  knees,  and  was 
on  a  chair  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

"  What,  Lady  Gorgon  !  "  said  Mr.  Crampton,  with  excellent 
surprise,  "how  delighted  I  am  to  see  j^ou  !  Always,  I  see^ 
employed  in  works  of  charity  "  (the  chapel-of-ease  paper  was 
on  her  knees),  "  and  on  such  an  occasion,  too, — it  is  really  the 
most  wonderful  coincidence  !     My  dear  madam,  here  is  a  silly 


7o6  THE  BEDFORD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 

fellow,  a  nephew  of  mine,  who  is  going  to  marry  a  silly  girl,  -a 
niece  of  your  own." 

"  Sir,  I — "  began  Lady  Gorgon,  rising. 

"  They  heard  every  word,"  whispered  Mr.  Crampton,  eagerly. 
"  Come  forward,  Mr.  Perkins,  and  show  yourself."  Mr.  Per- 
kins made  a  genteel  bow.  "  Miss  Lucy,  please  to  shake  hands 
with  your  aunt ;  and  this,  my  dear  madam,  is  Mrs.  Biggs,  of 
Mecklenburgh  Square,  who,  if  she  were  not  too  old,  might 
marry  a  gentleman  in  the  Treasury,  who  is  your  very  humble 
servant."  And  with  this  gallant  speech,  old  Mr.  Crampton 
began  helping  everybody  to  sherry  and  cake. 

As  for  William  Pitt  Scully,  he  had  disappeared,  evaporated, 
in  the  most  absurd,  sneaking  way  imaginable.  Lady  Gorgon 
made  good  her  retreat  presently,  with  much  dignity,  her  coun- 
tenance undismayed,  and  her  face  turned  resolutely  to  the  foe. 
***** 

About  five  days  afterwards,  that  memorable  contest  took 
place  in  the  House  of  Commons,  in  which  the  partisans  of  Mr. 
Macabaw  were  so  very  nearly  getting  him  the  Speakership. 
On  the  day  that  the  report  of  the  debate  appeared  in  T/u 
Thnes,  there  appeared  also  an  announcement  in  the  Gazette  as 
follows  : — 

"The  King  has  been  pleased  to  appoint  John  Perkins,  Esq., 
to  be  Deputy-SubcomptroUer  of  his  Majesty's  Tape  Office  and 
Custos  of  the  Sealing-Wax  Department." 

Mr.  Crampton  showed  this  to  his  nephew  with  great  glee, 
and  was  chuckling  to  think  how  Mr.  William  Pitt  Scully  would 
be  annoyed,  who  had  expected  the  place,  when  Perkins  burst 
out  laughing  and  said,  "  By  heavens,  here  is  my  own  speech  ! 
Scully  has  spoken  every  word  of  it  ;  he  has  only  put  in  Mr. 
Pincher's  name  in  the  place  of  Mr.  Macabaw's." 

"  He  is  ours  now,"  responded  his  uncle,  "  and  I  told  you 
lue  liwidd  have  him  for  twthing.  I  told  you,  too,  that  you  should 
be  married  from  Sir  George  Gorgon's,  and  here  is  proof  of  it." 

It  was  a  letter  from  Lady  Gorgon,  in  which  she  said  that, 
"  had  she  known  Mr.  Perkins  to  be  a  nephew  of  her  friend  Mr. 
Crampton,  she  never  for  a  moment  would  have  opposed  his 
marriage  with  her  niece,  and  she  had  written  that  morning  to 
her  dear  Lucy,  begging  that  the  marriage  breakfast  should  take 
place  in  Baker  Street." 

"  It  shall  be  in  Mecklenburgh  Square,"  said  John  Perkins, 
stoull}' ;  and  iu  Mecklenburgh  Square  it  wa.s. 


THE  BEDFOKD-ROW  CONSPIRACY. 


707 


William  Pitt  Scully,  Esq.,  was,  as  Mr.  Crampton  said,  hugelj 
annoyed  at  the  loss  of  the  place  for  his  nephew.  He  had  still, 
however,  his  hopes  to  look  forward  to,  but  these  were  unluckily 
dashed  by  the  coming  in  of  the  Whigs.  As  for  Sir  George 
Gorgon,  when  he  came  to  ask  about  his  peerage,  Hawksby  told 
him  that  they  could  not  aftord  to  lose  him  in  the  Commons,  for 
a  Liberal  Member  would  infallibly  fill  his  place. 

And  now  that  the  Tories  are  out  and  the  Whigs  are  in, 
strange  to  say  a  Liberal  does  fill  his  place.  This  Liberal  is  no 
other  than  Sir  George  Gorgon  himself,  who  is  still  longing  to 
be  a  lord,  and  his  lady  is  still  devout  and  intriguing.  So  that 
the  Members  for  Oldborough  have  changed  sides,  and  taunt 
each  other  with  apostasy,  and  hate  each  other  cordially.  Mr. 
Crampton  still  chuckles  over  the  manner  in  which  he  tricked 
them  both,  and  talks  of  those  five  minutes  during  which  he 
stood  on  the  landing-place,  and  hatched  and  executed  his 
"  Bedford-Row  Conspiracy." 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TIMMINS'S. 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fitzroy  Timmins  live  in  Lilliput  Street, 
that  neat  little  street  which  runs  at  right  angles  with  the  Park 
and  Brobdingnag  Gardens.  It  is  a  very  genteel  neighborhood, 
and  I  need  not  say  they  are  of  a  good  family. 

Especially  Mrs.  Timmins,  as  her  mamma  is  always  telling 
Mr.  T.  They  are  Suffolk  people,  and  distantly  related  to  the 
Right  Honorable  the  Earl  of  Bungay. 

Besides  his  house  in  Lilliput  Street,  Mr.  Timmins  has 
chambers  in  Fig-tree  Court,  Temple,  and  goes  the  Northern 
Circuit. 

The  other  day,  when  there  was  a  slight  difference  about  the 
payment  of  fees  between  the  great  Parliamentary  Counsel  and 
the  Solicitors,  Stoke  and  Pogers,  of  Great  George  Street,  sent 
the  papers  of  the  Lough  Foyle  and  Lough  Corrib  Junction 
Railway  to  Mr.  Fitzroy  Timmins,  who  was  so  elated  that  he  in- 
stantly purchased  a  couple  of  looking-glasses  for  his  drawing- 
rooms  (the  front  room  is  i6  by  12,  and  the  back,  a  tight  but 
elegant  apartment,  10  ft.  6  by  8  ft.  4),  a  coral  for  the  baby,  two 
new  dresses  for  Mrs.  Timmins,  and  a  little  rosewood  desk,  at 
the  Pantechnicon,  for  which  Rosa  had  long  been  sighing,  with 
crumpled  legs,  emerald-green  and  gold  morocco  top,  and 
drawers  all  over. 

Mrs.  Timmins  is  a  very  pretty  poetess  (her  "  Lines  to  a 
Faded  Tulip  "  and  her  "  Plaint  of  Plinlimmon  "  appeared  in 
one  of  last  year's  Keepsakes)  ;  and  Fitzroy,  as  he  impressed  a 
kiss  on  the  snowy  forehead  of  his  bride,  pointed  out  to  her,  in 
one  of  the  innumerable  pockets  of  the  desk,  an  elegant  ruby- 
tipped  pen,  and  six  charming  little  gilt  blank  books,  marked 
"  My  Books,"  which  Mrs,  Fitzroy  might  fill,  he  said,  (he  is  an 

(yoS) 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TTMMINS'S. 


709 


Oxford  man,  and  very  polite,)  "with  the  delightful  productions 
■of  her  Muse."  Besides  these  books,  there  was  pink  paper, 
paper  with  crimson  edges,  lace  paper,  all  stamped  with  R.  F.  T. 
(Rosa  Fitzroy  Timmius)  and  the  hand  and  battle-axe,  the  crest 
of  the  Timminses  (and  borne  at  Ascalon  by  Roaldus  de  Tim- 
mins,  a  crusader,  who  is  now  buried  in  the  Temple  Church, 
next  to  Serjeant  Snooks),  and  yellow,  pink,  light-blue  and 
other  scented  sealing-waxes,  at  the  service  of  Rosa  when  she 
chose  to  correspond  with  her  friends. 

Rosa,  you  may  be  sure,  jumped  with  joy  at  the  sight  of  this 
sweet  present ;  called  her  Charles  (his  first  name  is  Samuel,  but 
they  have  sunk  that)  the  best  of  men  ;  embraced  him  a  great 
number  of  times,  to  the  edification  of  her  buttony  little  page, 
who  stood  at  the  landing ;  and  as  soon  as  he  was  gone  to 
chambers,  took  the  new  pen  and  a  sweet  sheet  of  paper,  and 
began  to  compose  a  poem. 

"  What  shall  it  be  about  ?  "  was  naturally  her  first  thought. 
•"What  should  be  a  young  mother's  first  inspiration  ?  "  Her 
child  lay  on  the  sofa  asleep  before  her ;  and  she  begaa  in  her 
neatest  hand — 

"LINES 

"  ON  MY  SON,  BUNGAY  DE  BRACY  GASHLEIGH  TYMMYNS.  AGED  TEN  MONTHS. 

*'  Tuesday. 
"  How  beautiful !   how  beautiful  thou  seetnest. 
My  boy,  my  precious  one,  1113'  rosy  ba-bei 
Kind  angels  hover  round  thee,  as  thou  dream^sti 
Soft  lashes  liide  thy  beauteous  azure  eye  which  gleamest." 

"  Gleamest  ?  thine  eye  which  gleamest  ?  Is  that  grarr>- 
mar?"  thought  Rosa,  who  had  puzzled  her  little  brains  for 
some  time  with  this  absurd  question,  when  the  baby  woke. 
Then  the  cook  came  up  to  ask  about  dinner  ;  then  Mrs.  Fundy 
slipped  over  from  No.  27  (they  are  opposite  neighbors,  and 
made  an  acquaintance  through  Mrs.  Fundy's  macaw)  ;  and  a 
thousand  things  happened.  Finally,  there  was  no  rhyme  to 
babe  except  Tippoo  Saib  (against  whom  Major  Gashleigh, 
Rosa's  grandfather,  had  distinguished  himself),  and  so  she  gave 
up  the  little  poem  about  her  De  Bracy. 

Nevertheless,  when  Fitzroy  returned  from  chambers  to  take 
a  walk  with  his  wife  in  the  Park,  as  he  peeped  through  the  rich 
tapestry  hanging  which  divided  the  two  drawing-rooms,  he 
found  his  dear  girl  still  seated  at  the  desk,  and  writing,  writing 
away  with  her  ruby  pen  as  fast  as  it  could  scribble. 


7IO 


STORJUS:. 


"  What  a  genius  that  child  has  !  "  he  said  ;  "  whj'-,  she  is  a 
second  Mrs.  Norton  !  "  and  advanced  smiling  to  peep  over  her 
shoulder  and  see  what  pretty  thing  Rosa  was  composing. 

It  was  not  poetry,  though,  that  she  was  writing,  and  Fitsi 
read  as  follows  : — 

Lilliptd  Street,  Tuesday,  22d  May. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fitzroy  Tymmyns  request  the  pleasure  of 
Sir  Thomas  and  Lady  Kicklebury's  company  at  dinner  on  Wed- 
nesday, at  'jh;  o'clock." 

"  My  dear  !  "  exclaimed  the  barrister,  pulling  a  long  face. 

"  Law,  Fitzroy  !  "  cried  the  beloved  of  his  bosom,  "  how  you 
do  startle  one  !  " 

"  Give  a  dinner-party  with  our  means  !'"  said  he. 

"  Ain't  you  making  a  fortune,  you  miser  ?  "  Rosa  said. 
•'  Fifteen  guineas  a  day  is  four  thousand  five  hundred  a  year  ; 
I've  calculated  it."  And,  so  saying,  she  rose  and  taking  hold 
of  his  whiskers  (which  are  as  fine  ?.s  t..ose  of  any  man  of  his 
circuit,)  she  put  her  mouth  close  up  against  his  and  did  some- 
thing to  his  long  face,  which  quite  changed  the  expression  of 
it ;  and  which  the  little  page  heard  outside  the  door. 

"  Our  dining-room  won't  hold  ten,"  he  said. 

"  We'll  only  ask  twenty,  my  love.  Ten  are  sure  to  refuse 
in  this  season,  when  everj'body  is  giving  parties.  Look,  here 
is  the  list.'^ 

"  Earl  and  Countess  of  Bungay,  and  Lady  Barbara  Saint 
Mary's." 

"You  are  dyuig  to  get  a  lord  into  the  house,"  Timmins 
said/  (Jie  has  not  altered  his  name  in  Fig-tree  Court  yet,  and 
therefore  I  am  not  so  affected  as  to  call  hin>  Tymmyns). 

"Law,  my  dear,  they  are  cousins,  and  must  be  asked," 
Rosa  said. 

"  Let  us  put  down  my  sister  and  Tom  Crowder,  then." 

"  Blanche  Crowder  is  really  so  very  fat,  Fitzroy,"  his  wife 
said,  "  and  our  rooms  are  so  very  small." 

Fitz-  laughed.  "  You  little  rogue,"  he  said,  "  Lady  Bungay 
weighs  two  of  Blanche,  even  when  she's  not  in  the  f " 

"  Fiddlesticks  !  "  Rosa  cried  out.  "  Doctor  Crowder  really 
cannot  be  admitted  :  he  makes  such  a  noise  eating  his  soup, 
that  it  is  really  quite  disagreeable."  And  she  imitated  the  gur- 
gling noise  performed  by  the  Doctor  while  inhausting  his  soup,, 
in  such  a  funny  way,  that  Fitz  saw  inviting  him  was  out  of  the 
question. 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TIM M INS 'S. 


711 


'  Besides,  we  mustn't  have  too  many  relations,"  Rosa  went 
on.  "  Mamma,  of  course,  is  coming.  She  doesn't  Hke  to  be 
asked  in  the  evening  ;  and  she'll  bring  her  silver  bread-basket 
and  her  candle-sticks,  which  are  very  rich  and  handsome." 

"  And  you  complain  of  Blanche  for  being  too  stout !  " 
groaned  out  Timmins. 

"  Well,  well,  don't  be  in  a  pet,"  said  little  Rosa.  "  The 
girls  won't  come  to  dinner  ;  but  will  bring  their  music  after- 
wards."    And  she  went  on  with  the  list. 

"  Sir  Thomas  and  Lady  Kicklebury,  2.  No  saying  no  :  we 
must  ask  them,  Charles.  They  are  rich  people,  and  any  room 
in  their  house  in  Brobdingnag  Gardens  would  swallow  up  our 
humble  cot.  But  to  people  in  our  position  in  society  they  will 
be  glad  enough  to  come.  The  city  people  are  glad  to  mix  with 
the  old  families." 

"  Very  good,"  says  Fitz,  with  a  sad  face  of  assent — and 
Mrs.  Timmins  went  on  reading  her  list. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Topham  Sawyer,  Belgravine  Place." 

"  Mrs.  Sawyer  hasn't  asked  you  all  the  season.  She  gives 
herself  the  airs  of  an  empress  ;  and  when " 

"  One's  Member,  you  know,  my  dear,  one  must  have,"  Rosa 
replied,  with  much  dignity  ;  as  if  the  presence  of  the  representa- 
tive of  her  native  place  would  be  a  protection  to  her  dinner. 
And  a  note  was  written  and  transported  by  the  page  early  next 
morning  to  the  mansion  of  the  Sawyers,  in  Belgravine  Place. 

The  Topham  Sawyers  had  just  come  down  to  breakfast  \ 
Mrs.  T.  in  her  large  dust-colored  morning  dress  and  Madonna 
front  (she  looks  rather  scraggy  of  a  morning,  but  I  promise 
you  her  ringlets  and  figure  will  stun  you  of  an  evening)  ;  and 
having  read  the  note,  the  following  dialogue  passed  : — • 

Mrs.  Topham  Smvyer. — "  Well,  upon  my  word,  I  don't 
know  where  things  will  end.  Mr.  Sawyer,  the  Timminses  have 
asked  us  to  dinner." 

Mr.  Topham  Satvyer. — "  Ask  us  to  dinner  !     What   d • 

impudence  !  " 

Mrs.  Topham  Sawyer. — "  The  most  dangerous  and  insolent 
revolutionary  principles  are  abroad,  Mr.  Sawyer  ;  and  I  shall 
write  and  hint  as  much  to  these  persons." 

Mr.   Topham   Satoyer. — -"  No,   d ■  it,  Joanna  :  they  are 

my  constituents  and  we  must  go.  Write  a  civil  note^  and  say 
we  will  come  to  their  party."  {^He  resumes  the  perusal  of  "  The 
Times,''  and  Mrs.  Topham  Sawyer  writes^- 


712 


STORIES. 


"  My  dear  Rosa, 

"  We  shall  have  great  pleasure  in  joining  your  little  party.  I 
do  not  rejDly  in  the  third  person,  as  we  are  old  friends,  you  know, 
and  country  neighbors.  I  hope  your  mamma  is  well  :  present 
my  kindest  rc7nembrafices  to  her,  and  I  hope  we  shall  see  much 
MORE  of  each  other  in  the  summer,  when  we  go  down  to  the 
Sawpits  (for  going  abroad  is  out  of  the  question  in  these  dread' 
Jul  times').     With  a  hundred  kisses  to  your  dear  little/^/. 

"  Believe  me  your  attached 

"J.  T.  S." 

She  said  Pet,  because  she  did  not  know  whether  Rosa's 
child  was  a  girl  or  boy  :  and  Mrs.  Timmins  was  very  much 
pleased  with  the  kind  and  gracious  nature  of  the  reply  to  her 
invitation. 


The  next  persons  whom  little  Mrs.  Timmins  was  bent  upon 
asking,  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Rowdy,  of  the  firm  of  Stumpy, 
Rowdy  and  Co.,  of  Brobdingnag  Gardens,  of  the  Prairie,  Put- 
ne}',  and  of  Lombard  Street,  City. 

Mrs.  Timmins  and  Mrs.  Rowdy  had  been  brought  ujd  at  the 
same  school  together,  and  there  was  always  a  little  rivalry 
between  them,  from  the  day  when  they  contended  for  the 
French  prize  at  school  to  last  week,  when  each  had  a  stall  at 
the  Fancy  Fair  for  the  benefit  of  the  Daughters  of  Decayed 
Muffin-men  ;  and  when  Mrs.  Timmins  danced  against  Mrs. 
Rowdy  in  the  Scythe  Mazurka  at  the  Polish  Ball,  headed  by 
Mrs.  Hugh  Slasher.  Rowdy  took  twenty-three  pounds  more 
than  Timmins  in  the  Muffin  transaction  (for  she  had  posses- 
sion of  a  kettle-holder  worked  by  the  hands  of  R-y-lty,  which 
brought  crowds  to  her  stall)  ;  but  in  the  Mazurka  Rosa  con- 
quered :  she  has  the  prettiest  little  foot  possible  (which  in  a 
red  boot  and  silver  heel  looked  so  lovely  that  even  the  Chinese 
ambassador  remarked  it),  whereas  Mrs.  Rowdy's  foot  is  no 
trifle,  as  Lord  Cornbury  acknowledged  when  it  came  down  on 
his  lordship's  boot-tip  as  they  danced  together  amongst  the 
Scythes. 

"These  people  are  ruining  themselves,"  said  Mrs.  John 
Rowdy  to  lier  husband,  on  receiving  the  pink  note.  It  was 
carried  round  by  that  rogue  o/  a  buttony  page  in  the  evening/ 


A  LITTLE  DLNNER  AT  TIMMINS'S. 


713 


and  he  walked  to  Brobdingnag  Gardens,  and  in  the  Park  after- 
wards, with  a  young  lady  who  is  kitchen-maid  at  27,  and  who 
is  not  more  than  fourteen  years  older  than  little  Buttons. 

"  These  joeople  are  ruining  themselves,"  said  Mrs.  John  to 
her  husband.     "  Rosa  says  she  has  asked  the  Bungays." 

"  Bungays  indeed  !  Timmins  was  always  a  tuft-hunter," 
said  Rowdy,  who  had  been  at  college  with  the  barrister,  and 
who,  for  his  own  part,  has  no  more  objection  to  a  lord  than 
you  or  I  have  ;  and  adding,  "  Hang  him,  what  business  has  he 
to  be  giving  parties  ? "  allowed  Mrs.  Rowdy,  nevertheless,  to 
accept  Rosa's  invitation. 

"  When  I  go  to  business  to-morrow,  I  will  just  have  a  look 
at  ]\Ir.  Fitz's  account,"  Mr.  Rowdy  thought ;  "  and  if  it  is 
overdrawn,  as  it  usually  is,  why  *  *  * "  The  announce- 
ment of  Mrs.  Rowdy's  brougham  here  put  an  end  to  this  agree- 
able train  of  thought  ;  and  the  banker  and  his  lady  stepped 
into  it  to  join  a  snug  little  family-party  of  two-and-twenty,  given 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Secondchop  at  their  great  house  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Park. 

"  Rowdys  2,  Bungays  3,  ourselves  and  mamma  3,  2  Saw- 
yers," calculated  little  Rosa. 

"  General  Gulpin,"  Rosa  continued,  "  eats  a  great  deal, 
and  is  very  stupid,  but  he  looks  well  at  table  with  his  star  and 
ribbon.  Let  us  put  him  down  !  "  and  she  noted  down  "  Sir 
Thomas  and  Lady  Gulpin,  2.     Lord  Gastlemouldy,  i." 

"  You  will  make  your  party  abominably  genteel  and  stupid," 
groaned  Timmins.  "  Why  don't  you  ask  some  of  our  old 
friends  ?  Old  Mrs.  Portman  has  asked  us  twenty  times,  I  am 
sure,  within  the  last  two  years." 

"  And  the  last  time  we  went  there,  there  was  pea-soup  for 
dinner!  "  Mrs.  Timmins  said,  with  a  look  of  ineffable  scorn. 

"  Nobody  can  have  been  kinder  than  the  Hodges  have 
always  been  to  us  ;  and  some  sort  of  return  we  might  make,  I 
think." 

"  Return,  indeed  !  A  pretty  sound  it  is  on  the  staircase  to 
hear  "Mr.  and  Mrs,  'Odge  and  Miss  'Odges  "  pronounced  by 
Billiter,  who  always  leaves  his  /^'s  out.  No,  no  :  see  attorneys 
at  your  chambers,  my  dear — but  what  could  the  poor  creatures 
do  in  our  society  ? "  And  so,  one  by  one,  Timmins's  old 
friends  were  tried  and  eliminated  by  Mrs.  Timmins,  just  as  if 
she  had  been  an  Irish  Attorney-General,  and  they  so  many 
Catholics  on  Mr.  Mitchel's  jury. 

Mrs.  Fitzroy  insisted  that  the  party  should  be  of  her  very 
best  company.     Funnyman,  the  great  wit,  was  asked,  because 


714 


STORIES. 


of  his  jokes  ;  and  Mrs,  Butt,  on  whom  he  practises  ;  and  Pot- 
ter,.who  is  asked  because  everybody  else  asks  him;  and  Mr. 
Ranville  Ranville  of  the  Foreign  Office,  who  might  give  some 
news  of  the  Spanish  squabble ;  and  Botherby,  wlio  has  sud- 
denly sprung  up  into  note  because  he  is  intimate  with  the 
French  Revolution,  and  visits  Ledru-Rollin  and  Lamartine. 
And  these,  with  a  couple  more  who  are  amis  de  la  maison,  made 
up  the  twenty,  whom  Mrs.  Timmins  thought  she  might  safely 
invite  to  her  little  dinner. 

But  the  deuce  of  it  was,  that  when  the  answers  to  the  invita- 
tions came  back,  everybody  accepted  !  Here  was  a  pretty 
quandary.  How  they  were  to  get  twenty  into  their  dining-room 
was  a  calculation  which  poor  Timmins  could  not  solve  at  all  ; 
and  he  paced  up  and  down  the  little  room  in  dismay. 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Rosa  with  a  laugh.  "  Your  sister  Blanche 
looked  very  wel-1  in  one  of  my  dresses  last  year  ;  and  you  know 
how  stout  she  is.  We  will  find  some  means  to  accommodate 
them  all,  depend  upon  it." 


Mrs.  John  Rowdy's  note  to  dear  Rosa,  accepting  the  latter's 
invitation,  was  a  very  gracious  and  kind  one  ;  and  Mrs.  Fitz 
showed  it  to  her  husband  when  he  came  back  from  chambers. 
But  there  was  another  note  which  had  arrived  for  him  by  this 
time  from  Mr.  Rowdy — or  rather  from  the  firm  :  and  to  the 
effect  that  Mr.  F.  Timmins  had  overdrawn  his  account  28/.  185-. 
6d.,  and  was  requested  to  pay  that  sum  to  his  obedient  servants, 
Stumpy,  Rowdy  and  Co. 


And  Timmins  did  not  like  to  tell  his  wife  that  the  contend- 
ing parties  in  the  Lough  Foyle  and  Lough  Corrib  Railroad  had 
come  to  a  settlement,  and  that  the  fifteen  guineas  a  day  had 
consequently  determined.  "  I  have  had  seven  days  of  it, 
though,"  he  thought ;  "  and  that  will  be  enough  to  pay  for  the 
desk,  the  dinner,  and  the  glasses,  and  make  all  right  with 
Stumpy  and  Rowdy. 


III. 

The  cards  for  dinner  having  been  issued,  it  became  the 
duty  of  Mrs.  Timmins  to  make  further  arrangements  respecting 
the  invitations  to  the  tea-party  which  was  to  follow  the  more 
substantial  mea!. 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TIM M INS' S. 


7^5 


These  arrangements  are  difficult,  as  any  lady  knows  who  is 
in  the  habit  of  entertaining  her  friends.     There  are — 

People  who  are  offended  if  you  ask  them  to  tea  whilst 
others  have  been  asked  to  dinner ; 

People  who  are  offended  if  you  ask  them  to  tea  at  all ;  and 
cry  out  furiously,  "  Good  heavens  !  Jane  my  love,  why  do  these 
Timminses  suppose  that  I  am  to  leave  my  dinner-table  to  at- 
tend their soire'e  ?  "  (the  dear  reader  may  fill  up  the ■ 

to  any  strength,  according  to  his  liking) — or,  "  Upon  my  word, 
William  my  dear,  it  is  too  much  to  ask  us  to  pay  twelve  shil- 
lings for  a  brougham,  and  to  spend  I  don't  know  how  much  in 
gloves,  just  to  make  our  curtseys  in  Mrs.  Timmins's,  little  draw- 
ing-room." Mrs.  Moser  made  the  latter  remark  about  the 
Timmins  affair,  while  the  former  was  uttered  by  Mr.  Grumpley, 
barrister  at  law,  to  his  lady,  in  Gloucester  Place. 

That  there  are  people  who  are  offended  if  you  don't  ask 
them  at  all,  is  a  point  which  I  suppose  nobody  will  question. 
Timmins's  earliest  friend  in  life  was  Simmins  whose  wife  and 
family  have  taken  a  cottage  at  Mortlake  for  the  season. 

"  We  can't  ask  them  to  come  out  of  the  country,"  Rosa  said 
to  her  Fitzroy — (between  ourselves,  she  was  delighted  that  Mrs. 
Simmins  was  out  of  the  M'ay,  and  was  as  jealous  of  her  as  every 
well-regulated  woman  should  be  of  her  husband's  female 
friends) — "we  can't  ask  them  to  come  so  far  for  the  evening." 

"  Why,  no,  certainly,"  said  Fitzroy,  who  has  himself  no 
very  great  opinion  of  a  tea-party  ;  and  so  the  Simminses  were 
cut  out  of  the  list. 

And  what  was  the  consequence  ?  The  consequence  was, 
that  Simmins  and  Timmins  cut  when  they  met  at  Westminster ; 
that  Mrs.  Simmins  sent  back  all  the  books  which  she  had  bor- 
rowed from  Rosa,  with  a  withering  note  of  thanks  ;  that  Rosa 
goes  about  saying  that  Mrs.  Simmins  squints  ;  that  Mrs.  S.  on 
her  side,  declares  that  Rosa  is  crooked,  and  behaved  shame- 
fully to  Captain  Hicks  in  marrying  Fitzroy  over  him,  though 
she  was  forced  to  do  it  by  her  mother,  and  prefers  the  Captain 
to  her  husband  to  this  day.  If,  in  a  word,  these  two  men  could 
be  made  to  fight,  I  believe  their  wives  would  not  be  displeased  ; 
and  the  reason  of  all  this  misery,  rage,  and  dissension,  lies  in 
a  poor  little  twopenny  dinner-party  in  Lilliput  Street. 

Well,  the  guests,  both  for  before  and  after  meat,  having 
been  asked,  old  Mrs.  Gashleigh,  Rosa's  mother  —  (and,  by 
consequence,  Fitzroy 's  dear  mother-in-law,  though  I  promise 
you  that  "  dear"  is  particularly  sarcastic) — Mrs.  Gashleigh  of 
course  was  sent  for.  and  came  willi  Miss  Eliza  Gaslileigh   who 


7i6 


STORIES. 


plays  on  the  guitar,  and  Emily,  who  limps  a  little,  but  plays 
sweetly  on  tire  concertina.  They  live  close  by — trust  them  for 
that.  Your  mother-in-law  is  always  within  hearing,  thank  our 
stars  for  the  attention  of  the  dear  women.  The  Gashleighs,  I 
say,  live  close  by,  and  came  early  on  the  morning  after  Rosa's 
notes  had  been  issued  for  the  dinner. 

When  Fitzroy,  who  was  in  his  little  study,  which  opens  into 
his  little  dining-room — one  of  those  absurd  little  rooms  Avhich 
ought  to  be  called  a  gentleman's  pantry,  and  is  scarcely  bigger 
than  a  shower-bath,  or  a  state  cabin  in  a  ship — when  Fitzroy 
heard  his  mother-in-law's  knock,  and  her  well-known  scuttling 
and  chattering  in  the  passage — in  which  she  squeezed  ujd  young 
Buttons,  the  page,  while  she  put  questions  to  him  regarding 
baby,  and  the  cook's  health,  and  whether  she  had  taken  what 
Mrs.  Gashleigh  had  sent  overnight,  and  the  housemaid's  health, 
and  whether  Mr.  Timmins  had  gone  to  chambers  or  not — and 
when,  after  this  preliminary  chatter,  Buttons  flung  open  the 
door,  announcing — "  Mrs.  Gashleigh  and  the  young  ladies," 
Fitzroy  laid  down  his  Times  newspaper  with  an  expression 
that  had  best  not  be  printed  here,  and  took  his  hat  and  walked 
away. 

Mrs.  Gashleigh  has  never  liked  him  since  he  left  off  calling 
her  mamma,  and  kissing  her.  But  he  said  he  could  not  stand 
it  any  longer — he  was  hanged  if  he  would.  So  he  went  away 
to  chambers,  leaving  the  field  clear  to  Rosa,  mamma,  and  the 
two  dear  girls. 

— Or  to  one  of  them,  rather:  for  before  leaving  the  house, 
he  thought  he  would  have  a  look  at  little  Fitzroy  up  stairs  in 
the  nursery,  and  he  found  the  child  in  the  hands  of  his  maternal 
aunt  Eliza,  who  was  holding  him  and  pinching  him  as  if  he 
had  been  her  guitar,  I  suppose  ;  so  that  the  little  fellow  bawled 
pitifully — and  his  father  finally  quitted  the  premises. 

No  sooner  was  he  gone,  although  the  party  was  still  a  fort- 
night off,  than  the  women  pounced  upon  his  little  study,  and 
began  to  put  it  in  order.  Some  of  his  papers  they  pushed  up 
over  the  book-case,  some  they  put  behind  the  Encyclopaedia, 

some  they  crammed  into  the  drawers where  Mrs.  Gashleigh 

found  three  cigars,  which  she  pocketed,  and  some  letters,  over 
which  she  cast  her  eye  ;  and  by  Fitz's  return  they  had  the  room 
as  neat  as  possible,  and  the  best  glass  and  dessert-service  mus- 
tered on  the  study  table. 

It  was  a  very  neat  and  handsome  service,  as  you  may  be 
sure  Mrs.  Gashleigh  thought,  whose  rich  uncle  had  purchased 
it  for  the  young  couple,  at  Spode  and  Copeland's  ;  but  it  was 
only  for  twelve  persons. 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  A  T  TIMMINS  'S. 


717 


It  W'as  agreed  that  it  would  be,  in  all  respects,  cheaper  and 
better  to  purchase  a  dozen  more  dessert-plates  ;  and  with  "  my 
silver  basket  in  the  centre,"  Mrs,  G.  said  (she  is  always  brag- 
ging about  that  confounded  bread-basket),  "  we  need  not  have 
any  extra  china  dishes,  and  the  table  will  look  very  pretty." 

On  making  a  roll-call  of  the  glass,  it  was  calculated  that  at 
least  a  dozen  or  so  tumblers,  four  or  five  dozen  wines,  eight 
water-bottles,  and  a  proper  quantity  of  ice-jDlates,  were  requisite ; 
and  that,  as  they  would  always  be  useful,  it  would  be  the  best 
to  purchase  the  articles  immediately.  Fitz  tumbled  over  the 
basket  containing  them,  which  stood  in  the  hall,  as  he  came 
in  from  chambers,  and  over  the  boy  who  had  brought  them — • 
and  the  little  bill. 

The  women  had  had  a  long  debate,  and  something  like  a 
quarrel,  it  must  be  owned,  over  the  bill  of  fare.  Mrs.  Gash- 
leigh,  who  had  lived  a  great  part  of  her  life  in  Devonshire, 
and  kept  house  in  great  state  there,  was  famous  for  making 
some  dishes,  without  which,  she  thought,  no  dinner  could  be 
perfect.  When  she  proposed  her  mock-turtle,  and  stewed 
pigeons,  and  gooseberry-cream,  Rosa  turned  up  her  nose — a 
pretty  little  nose  it  was,  by  the  way,  and  with  a  natural  turn  in 
that  direction. 

"Mock-turtle  in  June,  mamma!  "  said  she. 

"  It  was  good  enough  for  your  grandfather,  Rosa,"  the 
mamma  replied:  "it  was  good  enough  for  the  Lord  High 
Admiral,  when  he  was  at  Plymouth ;  it  was  good  enough  for 
the  first  men  in  the  county,  and  relished  by  Lord  Fortyskewer 
and  Lord  Rolls  ;  Sir  Lawrence  Poker  ate  twice  of  it  after 
Exeter  Races  ;  and  I  think  it  might  be  good  enough  for " 

"  I  will  not  have  it,  mamma  !  "  said  Rosa,  with  a  stamp  of 
her  foot ;  and  Mrs.  Gashleigh  knew  what  resolution  there  was 
in  that.  Once,  when  she  had  tried  to  physic  the  baby,  there 
had  been  a  similar  fight  between  them. 

So  Mrs.  Gashleigh  made  out  a  carte,  in  which  the  soup  was 
left  with  a  dash — a  melancholy  vacuum  ;  and  in  which  the 
pigeons  were  certainly  thrust  in  amongst  the  entrees  ;  but  Rosa 
determined  they  never  should  make  an  entree  at  all  into  her 
dinner-party,  but  that  she  would  have  the  dinner  her  own 
way. 

When  Fitz  returned,  then,  and  after  he  had  paid  the  little 
bill  of  6/.  14^-.  dd.  for  the  glass,  Rosa  flew  to  him  with  her 
sweetest  smiles,  and  the  baby  in  her  arms.  And  after  she  had 
made  him  remark  how  the  child  grew  every  day  more  and  more 
like  him,  and  after  sh<?  had  treated  him  to   a   number  of  com- 


7iS  STOH/ES. 

pliments  and  caresses,  which  it  were  positively  fulsome  to 
exhibit  in  public,  and  after  she  had  soothed  him  into  good- 
humor  by  her  artless  tenderness,  she  began  to  speak  to^  him 
about  some  little  points  which  she  had  at  heart. 

She  pointed  out  with  a  sigh  how  shabby  the  old  curtains 
looked  since  the  dear  new  glasses  which  her  darling  Fitz  had 
given  her  had  been  p  jt  up  in  the  drawing-room.  Muslin  cur- 
tains cost  nothing,  and  she  must  and  would  have  them. 

The  muslin  curtains  were  accorded.  She  and  Fitz  went 
and  bought  them  at  Shoolbred's,  when  you  may  be  sure  she 
treated  herself  likewise  to  a  neat,  sweet  pretty  half-mourning 
(for  the  Court,  you  know,  is  in  mourning) — a  neat  sweet  barege, 
or  calimanco,  or  bombazine,  or  tiffany,  or  some  such  thing  ;  but 
Madame  Camille,  of  Regent  Street,  made  it  up,  and  Rosa 
looked  like  an  angel  in  ib  on  the  night  of  her  little  dinner. 

"  And,  my  sweet,"  she  continued,  after  the  curtains  had 
been  accorded,  "  mamma  and  I  have  been  talking  about  the 
dinner.  She  wants  to  make  it  very  expensive,  which  I  cannot 
allow.  I  have  been  thinking  of  a  delightful  and  economical 
plan,  and  you,  my  sweetest  Fitz,  must  put  it  into  execution." 

"  I  have  cooked  a  mutton-chop  when  I  was  in  chambers," 
Fitz  said  with  a  laugh.  "  Am  I  to  put  on  a  cap  and  an 
apron .? " 

"  No :  but  you  are  to  go  to  the  '  Megatherium  Club  '  (where, 
you  wretch,  you  are  always  going  without  my  leave),  and  you 
are  to  beg  Monsieur  Mirobolant,  your  famous  cook,  to  send 
you  one  of  his  best  aides-de-camp,  as  I  know  he  will,  and  with 
his  aid  we  can  dress  the  dinner  and  the  confectionery  at  home 
for  almost  nothing,  and  we  can  show  those  purse-proud  Topham 
Sawyers  and  Rowdys  that  the  humble  cottage  can  furnish 
forth  an  elegant  entertainment  as  well  as  the  gilded  halls  of 
wealth." 

Fitz  agreed  to  speak  to  Monsieur  Mirobolant.  If  Rosa 
had  had  a  fancy  for  the  cook  of  the  Prime  Minister,  I  believe 
the  deluded  creature  of  a  husband  would  have  asked  Lord 
John  for  the  loan  of  him. 


IV. 

FiTZROY  TiMMiNS,  whosc  taste  for  wine  is  remarkable  for 
so  young  a  man,  is  a  member  of  the  committee  of  the  "  Mega- 
therium Club,"  and  the  great  Mirobolant,  good-natured  as  all 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TIMMINS'S. 


719 


great  men  are,  was  only  too  happy  to  oblige  him.  A  young 
friend  and  prolege  of  his,  of  considerable  merit,  M.  Cavalca- 
dour,  happened  to  be  disengaged  through  the  lamented  death 
of  Lord  Hauncher,  with  whom  young  Cavalcadour  had  made 
his  debut  as  an  artist.  He  had  nothing  to  refuse  to  his  master, 
Mirobolant,  and  would  impress  himself  to  be  useful  to  z.  gour- 
mel  so  distinguished  as  Monsieur  Tiinniins.  Fitz  went  awnv 
as  pleased  as  Punch  with  this  encomium  of  the  great  Miro!  c- 
iant,  and  was  one  of  those  who  voted  against  the  decreasing  c^ 
Mirobolant's  salary,  when  the  measure  was  proposed  by  Mr. 
Parings,  Colonel  Close,  and  the  Screw  party  in  the  committee 
of  the  club. 

Faithful  to  the  promise  of  his  great  master,  the  youthful 
Cavalcadour  called  in  Lilliput  Street  the  next  day.  A  rich 
crimson  velvet  waistcoat,  with  buttons  of  blue  glass  and  gold, 
a  variegated  blue  satin  stock,  over  which  a  graceful  mosaic 
chain  hung  in  glittering  folds,  a  white  hat  worn  on  one  side  of 
his  long  curling  ringlets,  redolent  with  the  most  delightful 
hair-oil — one  of  those  white  hats  wliich  looks  as  if  it  had  been 
just  skinned — and  a  pair  of  gloves  not  exactly  of  the  color  cf 
bciirrefrais^  but  of  heurre  that  has  been  up  the  chimney,  with  a 
natty  cane  with  a  gilt  knob,  completed  the  ujDper  part,  at  any 
rate,  of  the  costume  of  the  young  fellow  whom  the  page  in- 
troduced to  Mrs.  Tiramins. 

Her  mamma  and  she  had  been  just  having  a  di::pute  about 
the  gooseberry-cream  when  Cavalcadour  arrived.  His  presence 
silenced  Mrs.  Gashleigh  ;  and  Rosa,  in  carrying  on  a  conversa- 
tion with  him  in  the  French  language — which  she  had  acquired 
perfectly  in  an  elegant  finisliing  establislmient  in  Kensington 
Square — had  a  great  advantage  over  her  mother,  who  could 
only  pursue  the  dialogue  with  very  much  difficulty,  eyeing  one 
or  other  interlocutor  with  an  alarmed  and  suspicious  look,  and 
gasping  out  "  We  "  whenever  she  thought  a  i^roi^er  opjDortunity 
arose  for  the  use  of  tliat  affirmative. 

"  I  have  two  leetl  menus  weez  me,"  .said  Cavalcadour  tci 
JNIrs.  Gashleigh. 

"  Minews — yes, — oh,  indeed  ?  "  answered  the  lady. 

"  Two  little  cartes." 

"  Oh,  two  carts  !  Oh,  we,"  she  said.  Coming,  I  suppose  ?  ''' 
And  she  looked  out  of  the  Avlndow  to  see  if  they  Avere  tlierc. 

Cavalcadour  smiled.  He  produced  from  a  pocketbook  a 
pink  paper  and  a  blue  paper,  on  which  he  had  written  two  bills 
of  fare — the  last  two  wliich  lie  had  composed  for  the  lamented 
Hauncher — and  he  handed  these  over  to  Mrs.  P'itzroy. 


*2o  STORIES. 

The  poor  little  woman  was  dreadfully  puzzled  with  thesa 
documents  (she  has  them  in  her  possession  still),  and  began  to 
read  from  the  pink  one  as  follows  : — 

"DINER   POUR   i6  PERSONNES. 

Potage  (clair)  i  la  Rigodon. 
Do.  i  la  Prince  de  Tombuctou. 

Deux  Poissons. 

Soumon  de  Severne  Rougcts  Gi-atinda 

a  la  Boadicde.  A  la  Cleopatrek 

Deux  Releves^ 

Le  Chapeau-k-trois-cornes  farci  Ji  la  Robespierre. 

Le  Tire-botte  a  I'Odalisque. 

Six  Entries. 
Saute  de  Hannetons  a  I'Epinglifere. 

Cotelettes  i  la  Megatherium. 

Bburrasque  de  Veau  a  la  Palsainbleti. 

Laitances  de  Carpe  en  goguette  a  la  Reine  Pomare. 

Turban  de  Volaille  i  I'Archeveque  de  Cantorbery." 

And  so  on  with  the  entremets^  and  hors  d'czievres,  and  the  rbtis, 
and  the  rcleves. 

"  Madame  will  see  that  the  dinners  are  quite  simple,"  said 
M.  Cavalcadour. 

"  Oh,  quite  !  "  said  Rosa,  dreadfully  puzzled. 

"  Whicli  would  Madame  like  ?  " 

"Which  would  we  like,  mamma?  "  Rosa  asked;  adding,  as 
if  after  a  little  thought,  "  I  think,  sir,  we  should  prefer  the  blue, 
one."  At  which  Mrs.  Gashleigh  nodded  as  knowingly  as  she 
could  ;  though  pink  or  blue,  I  defy  anybody  to  kaow  what  these 
cooks  mean  by  their  jargon. 

"  If  you  please,  Madame,  we  will  go  down  below  and  exam- 
ine the  scene  of  operations,"  Monsieur  Cavalcadour  said  \  and 
so  he  was  marshalled  down  the  stairs  to  the  kitchen,  which  he 
didn't  like  to  name,  and  appeared  before  the  cook  in  all  his 
splendor. 

He  cast  a  rapid  glance  round  the  premises,  and  a  smile  of 
something  like  contempt  lighted  up  his  features.  "  Will  you 
bring  pen  and  ink,  if  you  please,  and  I  will  write  down  a  few  of 
the  articles  which  will  be  necessary  for  us  ?  We  shall  require, 
if  you  please,  eight  more  stew-pans,  a  couple  of  braising-pans^ 
eight  saute-pans,  six  bainmarie-pans,  a  freezing-pot  with  acces- 
sories, and  a  few  more  articles  of  which  I  will  inscribe  the 
names."  And  Mr.  Cavalcadour  did  so,  dashing  down,  with  the 
rapidity  of  genius,  a  tremendous  list  of  ironmongery  goods, 
which  he  handed  over  to  Mrs.  Timmins.  She  and  her  mamma 
were  quite  frightened  at  the  awful  catalogue. 

"  I  will  call  three  days  hence  and  superintend  the  progress 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  A  T  TIMMINS  'S. 


721 


of  matters  ;  and  we  will  make  the  stock  for  the  soup  the  day 
before  the  dinner." 

"  Don't  you  think,  sir,"  here  interposed  Mrs.  Gashleigh, 
"  that  one  soup — a  fine  rich  mock-turtle,  such  as  I  have  seen  in 
the  best  houses  in  the  West  of  England,  and  such  as  the  late 
Lord  Fortyskewer " 

"  You  will  get  what  is  wanted  for  the  soups,  if  you  please," 
Mr.  Cavalcadour  continued,  not  heeding  this  interruption,  and 
as  bold  as  a  captain  on  his  own  quarter-deck  :  "  for  the  stock 
of  clear  soup,  you  will  get  a  leg  of  beef,  a  leg  of  veal,  and  a 
ham." 

"  We,  munseer,"  said  the  cook,  dropping  a  terrified  curtsey  j 
"a  leg  of  beef,  a  leg  of  veal,  and  a  ham." 

"  You  can't  serve  a  leg  of  veal  at  a  party,"  said  Mrs.  Gash- 
leigh ;  "  and  a  leg  of  beef  is  not  a  company  dish." 

"  Madame,  they  are  to  make  the  stock  of  the  clear  soup," 
Mr.  Cavalcadour  said. 

"  What  /"  cried  Mrs.  Gashleigh  ;  and  the  cook  repeated  his 
former  expression. 

"  Never,  whilst  /  am  in  this  house,"  cried  out  Mrs.  Gash- 
leigh, indignantly ;  "  never  in  a  Christian  English  household  ; 
never  shall  such  sinful  waste  be  permitted  by  me.  If  you  wish 
me  to  dine,  Rosa,  you  must  get  a  dinner  less  expensive.  The 
Right  Honorable  Lord  Fortyskewer  could  dine,  sir,  without 
these  wicked  luxuries,  and  I  presume  my  daughter's  guests 
can." 

"  Madame  is  perfectly  at  liberty  to  decide,"  said  M.  Caval- 
cadour. "  I  came  to  oblige  Madame  and  my  good  friend  Miro- 
bolant,  not  myself." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  I  think  it  will  be  too  expensive,"  Rosa 
stammered  in  a  great  flutter ;  "  but  I  am  very  much  obliged  to 
you." 

'•  II  n'y  a  point  d'obligation,  Madame,"  said  Monsieur  Alcide 
Camille  Cavalcadour  in  his  most  superb  manner  ;  and,  making 
a  splendid  bow  to  the  lady  of  the  house,  was  respecttully  con^ 
ducted  to  the  upper  regions  by  little  Buttons,  leaving  Rosa 
frightened,  the  cook  amazed  and  silent,  and  Mrs.  Gashleigh 
boiling  with  indignation   against  the  dresser. 

Up  to  that  moment,  Mrs.  Blowser,  the  cook,  who  had  come 
out  of  Devonshire  with  Mrs.  Gashleigh  (of  course  that  lady  gar* 
risoned  her  daughter's  house  with  servants,  and  expected  them 
to  give  her  information  of  everything  which  took  place  there) 
— up  to  that  moment,  I  say,  the  cook  had  been  quite  contented 
with  that  subterraneous  station  which  she  occupied  in  life,  and 


722 


STOHIES. 


had  a  pride  in  keeping  her  kitchen  neat,  bright,  and  clean.  It 
was  in  her  opinion,  the  comfortablest  room  in  the  house  (we  all 
thought  so  when  we  came  down  of  a  night  to  smoke  there), 
and  the  handsomest  kitchen  in  Lilliput  Street. 

But  after  the  visit  of  Cavalcador,  the  cool-c  became  quite  dis- 
contented and  uneasy  in  her  mind.  She  talked  in  a  melancholy 
manner  over  the  area-railings  to  the  cooks  at  twenty-three  and 
twenty-five.  She  stepped  over  the  way,  and  conferred  with  the 
cook  there.  She  made  inquiries  at  the  baker's  and  at  other 
places  about  the  kitchens  in  the  great  houses  in  Brobdingnag 
Gardens,  and  how  many  spits,  bangmarry  pans,  and  stoo-pans 
they  had.  She  thought  she  could  not  do  with  an  occasional 
help,  but  must  have  a  kitchen-maid.  And  she  was  often  dis- 
covered by  a  gentleman  of  the  police  force,  who  was,  I  believe, 
her  cousin,  and  occasionally  visited  her  when  Mrs.  Gashleigh 
was  not  in  the  house  or  spying  it : — she  was  discovered  seated 
with  Afrs.  Ruridell  in  her  lap,  its  leaves  bespattered  with  her 
tears.  "My  pease  be  gone,  Pelisse,"  she  said,  "zins  I  zaw 
that  ther  Franchman  !  "  And  it  was  all  the  faithful  fellow  could 
do  to  console  her. 

" the  dinner  !  "  said  Timmins,  in  a  rage  at  last.  "  Hav- 
ing it  cooked  in  the  house  is  out  of  the  question.  The  bother 
of  it,  and  the  row  your  mother  makes,  are  enough  to  drive  one 
mad.  It  won't  happen  again,  I  can  promise  you,  Rosa.  Order 
it  at  Fubsby's — from  footmen  to  saltspoons.  Let's  go  and  order 
it  at  Fubsby's." 

"  Darling,  if  you  don't  mind  the  expense,  and  it  will  be  any 
relief  to  you,  let  us  do  as  you  wish,"  Rosa  said  ;  and  she  put  on 
her  bonnet,  and  they  went  off  to  the  grand  cook  and  confec- 
tioner of  the  Brobdingnag  quarter. 


On  the  arm  of  her  Fitzroy,  Rosa  went  off  to  Fubsby's,  that 
magnificent  shop  at  the  corner  of  Parliament  Place  and  Alicom- 
payne  Square, — a  shop  into  which  the  rogue  had  often  cast  a 
glance  of  approbation  as  he  passed  :  for  there  are  not  only  the 
most  wonderful  and  delicious  cakes  and  confections  in  the  win- 
dow, but  at  the  counter  there  are  almost  sure  to  be  three  or 
four  of  the  prettiest  women  in  the  whole  of  this  world,  with 
little  darling  caps  of  the  last  French  make,  with  beautiful  wavy 
hair,  and  the  neatest  possible  waists  and  aprons. 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TIMMINS'S. 


723 


Yes,  there  they  sit ;  and  others,  perhaps,  besides  Fitz  have 
cast  a  sheep's-eye  through  those  enormous  plate-glass  window- 
panes.  I  suppose  it  is  the  fact  of  perpetually  living  among 
such  a  quantity  of  good  things  that  makes  those  young  ladies  so 
beautiful.  They  come  into  the  place,  let  us  say,  like  ordinary 
people,  and  gradually  grow  handsomer  and  handsomer,  until 
they  grow  out  into  the  perfect  angels  you  see.  It  can't  be  other- 
wise ;  if  you  and  I,  my  dear  fellow,  were  to  have  a  course  of 
that  place,  we  should  become  beautiful  too.  They  live  in  an 
atmosphere  of  the  most  delicious  pine-apples,  blancmanges, 
creams,  (some  whipt,  and  some  so  good  that  of  course  they 
don't  want  whipping,)  jellies,  tipsy-cakes,  cherry-brandy — one 
hundred  thousand  sweet  and  lovely  things.  Look  at  the  pre- 
served fruits,  look  at  the  golden  ginger,  the  outspreading  ananas, 
the  darling  little  rogues  of  China  oranges,  ranged  in  the  gleam- 
ing crystal  cylinders.  Mon  Dieii !  Look  at  the  strawberries  in 
the  leaves.  Each  of  them  is  as  large  nearly  as  a  lady's  reticule, 
and  looks  as  if  it  had  been  brought  up  in  a  nursery  to  itself. 
One  of  those  strawberries  is  a  meal  for  those  young  ladies  be- 
hind the  counter  ;  they  nibble  off  a  little  from  the  side,  and  if 
they  are  very  hungry,  which  can  scarcely  ever  happen,  they  are 
allowed  to  go  to  the  crystal  canisters  and  take  out  a  rout-cake 
or  macaroon.  In  the  evening  they  sit  and  tell  each  other  little 
riddles  out  of  the  bonbons  ;  and  when  they  wish  to  amuse  them- 
selves, they  read  the  most  delightful  remarks,  in  the  French 
language,  about  Love,  and  Cupid,  and  Beauty,  before  they  place 
them  inside  the  crackers.  They  always  are  writing  down  good 
things  into  Mr.  Fubsby's  ledgers.  It  must  be  a  perfect  feast  to 
read  them.  Talk  of  the  Garden  of  Eden  !  I  believe  it  was 
nothing  to  Mr.  Fubsby's  house  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  after 
those  young  ladies  have  been  there  a  certain  time,  they  get  to 
such  a  pitch  of  loveliness  at  last,  that  they  become  complete 
angels,  with  wings  sprouting  out  of  their  lovely  shoulders,  when 
(after  giving  just  a  preparatory  balance  or  two)  they  fly  up  to 
the  counter  and  perch  there  for  a  minute,  hop  down  again,  and 
affectionately  kiss  the  other  young  ladies,  and  say,  "  Good-by, 
dears  !  We  shall  meet  again  la  haiit."  And  then  with  a  whirr 
of  their  deliciously  scented  wings,  away  they  fly  for  good,  whisk- 
ing over  the  trees  of  Brobdingnag  Square,  and  up  into  the  sky, 
as  the  policeman  touches  his  hat. 

It  is  up  there  that  they  invent  the  legends  for  the  crackers, 
and  the  wonderful  riddles  and  remarks  on  the  bonbons.  N6 
mortal,  I  am  sure,  could  write  them.. 

']    never  saw  a  man  in  such  a  state  as  Fitzroy  Timmins  in 


724  STORIES. 

the  presence  of  those  ravishing  houris.  Mrs.  Fitz  having  ex* 
plained  that  they  required  a  dinner  for  twenty  persons,  the 
chief  young  lady  asked  what  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fitz  would  like,  and 
named  a  thousand  things,  each  better  than  the  other,  to  all  of 
which  Fitz  instantly  said  yes.  The  wretch  was  in  such  a  state 
of  infatuation  that  I  believe  if  that  lady  had  proposed  to  him  a 
fricasseed  elephant,  or  a  boa-constrictor  in  jelly,  he  would  have 
said,  "  O  yes,  certainly  ;  jDut  it  down." 

That  Peri  wrote  down  in  her  album  a  list  of  things  which  it 
would  make  your  mouth  water  to  listen  to.  But  she  took  it  all 
quite  calmly.  Heaven  bless  you  !  i/iey  don't  care  about  things 
that  are  no  delicacies  to  them !  But  whatever  she  chose  to 
write  down,  Fitzroy  let  her. 

After  the  dinner  and  dessert  were  ordered  (at  Fubsby's 
they  furnish  everything  :  dinner  and  dessert,  plate  and  china, 
servants  in  your  own  livery,  and,  if  yon  please,  guests  of  title 
too),  the  married  couple  retreated  from  that  shop  of  wonders  ; 
Rosa  delighted  that  the  trouble  of  the  dinner  was  all  off  their 
bands  :  but  she  was  afraid  it  would  be  rather  expensive. 

"  Nothing  can  be  too  expensive  which  pleases  you,  dear," 
Fitz  said. 

"  By  the  way,  one  of  those  young  w^omen  was  rather  good- 
looking,"  Rosa  remarked  :  "  the  one  in  the  cap  with  the  blue 
ribbons."  (And  she  cast  about  the  shape  of  the  cap  in  her 
mind,  and  determined  to  have  exactly  such  another.) 

"  Think  so  .''  I  didn't  observe,"  said  the  miserable  hypocrite 
by  her  side  ;  and  when  he  had  seen  Rosa  home,  he  went  back, 
like  an  infamous  fiend,  to  order  something  else  which  he  had 
forgotten,  he  said,  at  Fubsby's.  Get  out  of  that  Paradise,  you 
cowardly,  creeping,  vile  serpent  you. 

Until  the  day  of  the  dinner,  the  infatuated  fop  was  always 
going  to  Fubsby's.  He  was  retJiarked  there.  He  used  to  go 
before  he  went  to  chambers  in  the  morning,  and  sometimes  on 
his  return  from  the  Temple  :  but  the  morning  was  the  time 
which  he  preferred  ;  and  one  day,  when  he  went  on  one  of  his 
eternal  pretexts,  and  was  chattering  and  flirting  at  the  counter, 
a  lady  who  had  been  reading  yesterday's  paper  and  eating  a 
halfpenny  bun  for  an  hour  in  the  back  shop  (if  that  paradis- 
may  be  called  a  shop) — a  lady  stepped  forward,  laid  down  the 
Morning  Herald,  and  confronted  him. 

That  lady  was  Mrs.  Gashleigh.  From  that  day  the  miser- 
able Fitzroy  was  in  her  power  ;  and  she  resumed  a  sway  over 
his  house,  to  shake  off  which  had  been  the  object  of  his  life, 
and  the  result  of  many  battles.     And  for  a  mere  freak — (foi','- 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TIMMINS'S.  725 

en  going  into  Fubsby's  a  week  afterwards  he  found  tlie  Peris 
drinl<.ing  tea  out  of  blue  cups,  and  eating  stale  bread  and  butter, 
wlien  his  absurd  passion  instantly  vanished) — I  say,  for  a  mere 
freak,  the  most  intolerable  burden  of  his  life  was  put  on  his 
shoulders  again — his  mother-in-law. 

On  the  day  before  the  little  dinner  took  place— and  I  pro- 
mise you  we.  shall  come  to  it  in  the  very  next  chapter — a  tall 
and  elegant  middle-aged  gentleman,  who  might  have  passed 
for  an  earl  but  that  there  was  a  slight  incompleteness  about 
his  hands  and  feet,  the  former  being  unconimonly  red,  and  the 
latter  large  and  irregular,  was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Timmins  by 
the  page,  who  announced  him  as  Mr.  Truncheon. 

"  I'm  Truncheon,  Ma'am,"  he  said,  with.a  low  bow. 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Rosa. 

"About  the  dinner,  M'm,  from  Fusby's,  M'm.  As  you 
have  no  butler,  M'm,  I  presume  you  will  wish  me  to  act  as  sich. 
I  shall  bring  two  persons  as  haids  to-morrow  ;  both  answers  to 
the  name  of  John.  I'd  best,  if  you  please,  inspect  the  premisis, 
and  will  think  you  to  allow  your  young  man  to  show  me  the 
pantry  and  kitching." 

Truncheon  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  and  with  the  deepest  and 
most  respected  melancholy.  There  is  not  much  expression  in 
his  eyes,  but  from  what  there  is,  you  would  fancy  that  he  was 
oppressed  by  a  secret  sorrow.  Rosa  trembled  as  she  surveyed 
this  gentleman's  size,  his  splendid  appearance,  and  gravity. 
"I  am  sure,"  she  said,  "  I  never  shall  dare  to  ask  him  to  hand 
a  glass  of  water."  Even  Mrs.  Gashleigh,  when  she  came  on 
the  morning  of  the  actual  dinner-party,  to  superintend  matters, 
was  cowed,  and  retreated  from  the  kitchen  before  the  calm 
majesty  of  Truncheon. 

And  yet  that  great  man  was,  like  all  the  truly  great — • 
afiable. 

He  put  aside  his  coat  and  waistcoat  (both  of  evening  cut,  and 
looking  prematurely  splendid  as  he  walked  the  streets  in  noon- 
day), and  did  not  disdain  to  rub  the  glasses  and  polish  the 
decanters,  and  to  show  young  Buttons  the  proper  mode  of 
preparing  these  articles  for  a  dinner.  And  while  he  operated, 
the  maids,  and  Buttons,  and  cook,  when  she  could — and  what 
had  she  but  the  vegetables  to  boil  ? — crowded  round  him,  and 
listened  with  wonder  as  he  talked  of  the  great  families  as  he 
had  lived  with.  That  man,  as  they  saw  him  there  before  them, 
had  been  cab-boy  to  Lord  Tantallan,  valet  to  the  Earl  of 
Bareacres,  and  groom  of  the  chambers  to  the  Duchess 
Powager  of  Fitzbattleaxe.  Oh,  it  was  delightful  to  hear  Mr, 
Trunch.con. 


726  STORIES. 


vr. 

On  the  great,  momentous,  stupendous  clay  of  the  dinner, 
my  beloved  female  reader  may  imagine  that  Fitzroy  Timmins 
was  sent  about  his  business  at  an  early  hour  in  the  mornings 
while  the  women  began  to  make  preparations  to  receive  their 
guests.  "  There  will  be  no  need  of  your  going  to  Fubsby's," 
Mrs.  Gashleigh  said  to  him,  with  a  look  that  drove  him  out  of 
doors,  "Everything  that  we  require  has  been  ordered ///cvr. J' 
You  will  please  to  be  back  here  at  six  o'clock,  and  not  sooner  : 
and  I  presume  you  will  acquiesce  in  my  arrangements  about 
the  7mne!" 

"  O  yes,  mamma,"  said  the  prostrate  son-in-law. 

"  In  so  large  a  party — a  party  beyond  some  folks'  7ncans — • 
expensive  wines  are  absurd.  The  light  sherry  at  26s.,  the 
champagne  at  ^2s. ;  and  you  are  not  to  go  beyond  36J.  for  the 
claret  and  port  after  dinner.  Mind,  coffee  will  be  served  ;  and 
you  come  up  stairs  after  two  rounds  of  the  claret." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  acquiesced  the  wretch  ;  and  hurried 
out  of  the  house  to  his  chambers,  and  to  discharge  the  com- 
missions with  which  the  womankind  had  intrusted  him. 

As  for  Mrs,  Gashleigh  you  might  have  heard  her  bawling 
over  the  house  the  whole  day  long.  That  admirable  woman 
was  everywhere  :  in  the  kitchen  until  the  arrival  of  Truncheon, 
before  whom  she  would  not  retreat  without  a  battle  ;  on  the 
stairs  ;  in  Fitzroy's  dressing-room  ;  and  in  Fitzroy  minor's  nurs- 
ery, to  whom  she  gave  a  dose  of  her  own  composition,  while  the 
nurse  was  sent  out  on  a  pretext  to  make  purchases  of  garnish 
for  the  dishes  to  be  served  for  the  little  dinner !  Garnish 
for  the  dishes  !  As  if  the  folks  at  Fubsby's  could  not  garnish 
dishes  better  than  Gashleigh,  with  her  stupid  old-world 
devices  of  laurel-leaves,  parsley,  and  cut  turnips !  Why, 
there  was  not  a  dish  served  that  day  that  was  not  covered  over 
v.ith  skewers,  on  which  truffles,  crayfish,  mushrooms,  and  forced- 
meat  were  impaled.  When  old  Gashleigh  went  down  with  her 
barbarian  bunches  of  holly  and  greens  to  stick  about  the  meats, 
even  the  cook  saw  their  incongruity,  and,  at  Truncheon's  orders, 
flung  the  whole  shrubbery  into  the  dust-house,  where,  while 
poking  about  the  premises,  you  may  be  sure  Mrs.  G,  saw  it. 

Every  candle  which  was  to  be  burned  that  night  (including 
the  tallow  candle,  which  she  said  was  a  good  enough  bed-light 
foi  Fitzioy)  she  stuck  into  the  candlesticks  with  her  own  hands. 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TIMMINS'S. 


727 


giving  her  own  high-shouldered  plated  candlesticks  of  the  yeai 
179S  the  place  of  honor.  She  upset  all  poor  Rosa's  floral 
arrangements,  turning  the  nosegays  from  one  vase  into  the 
other  without  any  pity,  and  was  never  tired  of  beating,  and 
pusliing,  and  patting,  and  whapping  the  curtain  and  sofa  dra- 
peries into  shape  in  the  little  drawing-room. 

In  Fitz's  own  apartments  she  revelled  with  peculiar  pleas- 
ure. It  has  been  described  how  she  had  sacked  his  study  and 
pushed  away  his  papers,  some  of  which,  including  three  cigars, 
and  the  commencement  of  an  article  for  the  Law  Magazine, 
"  Lives  of  the  Sheriffs'  Officers,"  he  has  never  been  able  to  find 
to  this  day.  Mamma  now  went  into  the  little  room  in  the  back 
regions,  which  is  Fitz's  dressing-room  (and  was  destined  to  be 
a  cloak-room),  and  here  she  rummaged  to  her  heart's  delight. 

In  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  she  examined  all  his 
outlying  pockets,  drawers,  and  letters ;  she  inspected  his  socks 
and  handkerchiefs  in  the  top  drawers  ;  and  on  the  dressing- 
table,  his  razors,  shaving-strop,  and  hair-oil.  She  carried  ofE 
his  silver-topped  scent-bottle  out  of  his  dressing-case,  and  a 
half-dozen  of  his  favorite  pills  (which  Fitz  possesses  in  com- 
mon with  every  well-regulated  man),  and  probably  administered 
them  to  her  own  family.  His  boots,  glossy  pumps,  and  slip- 
pers, she  pushed  into  the  shower-bath,  where  the  poor  fellow 
stepped  into  them  the  next  morning,  in  the  midst  of  a  pool  in 
which  they  were  lying.  The  baby  was  found  sucking  his  boot- 
hooks  the  next  day  in  the  nursery  ;  and  as  for  the  bottle  of 
varnish  for  his  shoes,  (which  he  generally  paints  upon  the  trees 
himself,  having  a  pretty  taste  in  that  way,)  it  could  never  be 
found  to  the  present  hour;  but  it  was  remarked  that  the  young 
Master  Gashleighs,  when  they  came  home  for  the  holidays, 
always  wore  lackered  highlows  ;  and  the  reader  may  draw  his 
conclusions  from  f/iat  fact. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  all  the  servants  gave  Mrs.  Timmins 
warning. 

The  cook  said  she  coodn't  abear  it  no  longer,  'aving  Mrs. 
G.  always  about  her  kitching,  with  her  fingers  in  all  the  sauce- 
pans. Mrs.  G.  had  got  her  the  place,  but  she  preferred  one  as 
Mrs.  G.  didn't  get  for  her. 

The  nurse  said  she  was  come  to  nuss  Master  Fitzroy,  and 
knew  her  duty  ;  his  grandmamma  wasn't  his  nuss,  and  was  al- 
ways aggrawating  her, — missus  must  shoot  herself  elsewhere. 

The  housemaid  gave  utterance  to  the  same  sentiments  in 
language  more  violent. 

Little  Buttons  bounced  up  to  his  mistress,  said  he  was 


728 


STORIES. 


butler  of  the  family,  Mrs.  G.  was  always  poking  about  his 
pantry,  and  dam  if  he'd  stand  it. 

At  every  moment  Rosa  grew  more  and  more  bewildered. 
The  baby  howled  a  great  deal  during  the  day.  His  large  china 
christening-bowl  was  cracked  by  Mrs.  Gashleigh  altering  the 
flowers  in  it,  and  pretending  to  be  very  cool  whilst  her  hands 
shook  with  rage. 

"  Pray  go  on,  mamma,"  Rosa  said  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
*'  Should  you  like  to  break  the  chandelier  ?  " 

"  Ungrateful,  unnatural  child  !  "  bellowed  the  other.  "  Only 
that  I  know  you  couldn't  do  without  me,  I'd  leave  the  house 
this  minute." 

"  As  you  wish,"  said  Rosa ;  but  Mrs.  G.  didn't  wish  :  and  ih 
this  juncture  Truncheon  arrived. 

That  ofificer  surveyed  the  dining-room,  laid  the  cloth  there 
with  admirable  precision  and  neatness  ;  ranged  the  plate  on  the 
sideboard  with  graceful  accuracy,  but  objected  to  that  old  thing 
in  the  centre,  as  he  called  Mrs.  Gashleigh's  silver  basket,  as 
cumbrous  and  useless  for  the  table,  where  they  would  want  all 
the  room  they  could  get. 

Order  was  not  restored  to  the  house,  nor,  indeed,  any  decent 
progress  made,  until  this  great  man  came  :  but  where  there  was 
a  revolt  before,  and  a  general  disposition  to  strike  work  and  to 
yell  out  defiance  against  Mrs.  Gashleigh,  who  was  sitting  be« 
wildered  and  furious  in  the  drawing-room — where  there  was 
before  commotion,  at  the  appearance  of  the  master-spirit,  all 
was  peace  and  unanimity :  the  cook  went  back  to  her  pans,  the 
housemaid  busied  herself  with  the  china  and  glass,  cleaning 
some  articles  and  breaking  others.  Buttons  sprang  up  and  down 
the  stairs,  obedient  to  the  orders  of  his  chief,  and  all  things 
went  well  and  in  their  season. 

At  six,  the  man  with  the  wine  came  from  Binney  and  Lath- 
am's. At  a  quarter-past  six,  Timmins  himself  arrived. 

At  half  past  six,  he  might  have  been  heard  shouting  out  for 
his  varnished  boots — but  we  know  where  f/iose  had  been  hidden 
■ — and  for  his  dressing  things  ;  but  Mrs.  Gashleigh  had  put  them 
away. 

As  in  his  vain  inquiries  for  these  articles  he  stood  shouting, 
"Nurse!  Buttons  !  Rosa  my  dear  !"  and  the  most  fearful  exe- 
crations up  and  down  the  stairs,  Mr.  Truncheon  came  out  on 
him. 

"  Igscuse  me,  sir,"  says  he,  "  but  it's  impawsable.  We  can't 
dine  twenty  at  that  table — not  if  you  set  'em  out  awinder,  we 
can't." 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TIMMINS'S.  72^ 

'*  What's  to  be  done  ? "  asked  Fitzroy,  in  an  agony ;  ''  They've 
all  said  they'd  come." 

"Can't  do  it,"  said  the  other;  "with  two  top  and  bottom— 
and  your  table  is  as  narrow  as  a  bencli — we  can't  hold  more 
than  heighteen,  and  then  each  person's  helbows  will  be  into  his 
neighbor's  cheer." 

"  Rosa  !  Mrs.  Gashleigh  !  "  cried  out  Timmins,  "  come  down 
and  speak  to  this  gentl this " 

"Truncheon,  sir,"  said  the  man. 

The  woman  descended  from  the  drawing-room.  "  Look  and 
see,  ladies,"  he  said,  inducting  them  into  the  dining-room : 
"there's  the  room,  there's  the  table  laid  for  heighteen,  and  I 
defy  you  to  squeege  in  more." 

"  One  person  in  a  party  always  fails,"  said  Mrs.  Gashleigh, 
getting  alarmed. 

"  That's  nineteen,"  Mr.  Truncheon  remarked.  "  We  must 
knock  another  hoff,  Ma'm."  And  he  looked  her  hard  in  the  face. 

Mrs.  Gashleigh  was  very  red  and  nervous,  and  paced,  or 
rather  squeezed  round  the  table  (it  was  as  much  as  she  could 
do).  The  chairs  could  not  be  put  any  closer  than  they  were 
It  was  impossible,  unless  the  convive  sat  as  a  centre-piece  in  the 
middle,  to  put  another  guest  at  that  table. 

"  Look  at  that  lady  movin'  round,  sir.  You  see  now  the 
difficklty.  If  my  men  wasn't  thinner,  they  couldn't  hoperate 
at  all,"  Mr.  Truncheon  observed,  who  seemed  to  have  a  spite  to 
Mrs.  Gashleigh. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ? "  she  said,  with  purple  accents. 

"  My  dearest  mamma,"  Rosa  cried  out,  "  you  must  stop  at 
home — how  sorry  I  am  ! "  And  she  shot  one  glance  at  Fitz- 
roy, who  shot  another  at  the  great  Truncheon,  who  held  down 
his  eyes.     "We  could  manage  with  heighteen."  he  said,  mildly. 

Mrs.  Gashleigh  gave  a  hideous  laugh. 

***** 

She  went  away.  At  eight  o'clock  she  was  pacing  at  the 
corner  of  the  street,  and  actually  saw  the  company  arrive. 
First  came  the  Topham  Sawyers,  in  their  light-blue  carriage 
with  the  white  hammer-cloth  and  blue  and  white  ribbons — ■ 
their  footmen  drove  the  house  down  with  the  knocking. 

Then  followed  the  ponderous  and  snuff-colored  vehicle,  with 
faded  gilt  wheels  and  brass  earl's  coronets  all  over  it,  the  con- 
veyance  of  the  House  of  Bungay.  The  Countess  of  Bungay 
and  daughter  stepped  out  of  the  carriage.  The  fourteenth 
Earl  of  Bungay  couldn't  come. 

Sir  Thomas  and  Lady  Gulpin's  fly  made  its   appearance, 


73° 


S  TORIES. 


from  which  issued  the  General  with  his  star,  and  Lady  Gulpin 
in  3^ellow  satin.  The  Rowdys'  brougham  followed  next ;  after 
which  Mrs.  Butt's  handsome  equipage  drove  up. 

The  two  friends  of  the  house,  young  gentlemen  from  the 
Temple,  now  arrived  in  cab  No.  9996,  We  tossed  up,  in  fact, 
which  should  pay  the  fare. 

Mr.  Ranville  Ranville  walked,  and  was  dusting  his  boots  as 
the  Templars  drove  up.  Lord  Castlemouldy  came  out  of  a 
twopenny  omnibus.  Funnyman,  the  wag,  came  last,  whirling 
up  rapidly  in  a  hansom,  just  as  Mrs.  Gashleigh,  with  rage  in 
her  heart,  was  counting  that  two  people  had  failed,  and  that 
there  were  only  seventeen  after  all. 

Mr.  Truncheon  passed  our  names  to  Mr.  Billiter,  who 
bawled  them  out  on  the  stairs.  Rosa  was  smiling  in  a  pink 
dress,  and  looking  as  fresh  as  an  angel,  and  received  her  com- 
l^any  wdth  that  grace  which  has  always  characterized  her. 

The  moment  of  the  dinner  arrived,  old  Lady  Bungay 
scuffled  off  on  the  arm  of  Fitzroy,  while  the  rear  was  brought 
up  by  Rosa  and  Lord  Castlemouldy,  of  Ballyshanvanvoght  Cas- 
tle, CO.  Tipperary.  Some  fellows  who  had  the  luck,  took  down 
ladies  to  dinner.  I  was  not  sorry  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  Mrs. 
Rowdy,  with  her  dandyfied  airs,  or  of  that  high  and  mighty 
county  princess,  Mrs.  Topham  Sawyer. 


vn. 

Of  course  it  does  not  become  the  present  writer,  who  has 
partaken  of  the  best  entertainment  which  his  friends  could 
supply,  to  make  fun  of  their  (somewhat  ostentatious,  as  it  must 
be  confessed)  hospitality.  If  they  gave  a  dinner  beyond  their 
means,  it  is  no  business  of  mine.  I  hate  a  man  who  goes  and 
eats  a  friend's  meat,  and  then  blabs  the  secrets  of  the  ma- 
hogany. Such  a  man  deserves  never  to  be  asked  to  dinner 
again  ;  and  though  at  the  close  of  a  London  season  that  seems 
no  great  loss,  and  you  sicken  of  a  whitebait  as  you  would  of  a 
whale — yet  we  must  always  remember  that  there's  another  sea- 
son coming,  and  hold  our  tongues  for  the  present. 

As  for  describing,  then,  the  mere  victuals  on  Timmins's  ta- 
ble, that  would  be  absurd.  Everybody — (I  mean  of  the  gen- 
teel world  of  course,  of  which  I  make  no  doubt  the  reader  is 
u   police  crr.amcnt) — Everybody  has  the  same  everything  in 


^  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TIMMINS'S,  731 

London.  You  see  the  same  coats,  the  same  dinners,  the  same 
boiled  fowls  and  mutton,  the  same  cutlets,  fish,  and  cucumbers, 
the  same  lumps  of  Wenham  Lake  ice,  &c.  The  waiters  with 
white  neck-cloths  are  as  like  each  other  everywhere  as  the 
pease  which  they  hand  round  \vith  the  ducks  of  the  second 
course.     Can't  any  one  invent  anything  new  ? 

The  only  difference  between  Timmins's  dinner  and  his 
neighbor's  was,  that  he  had  hired,  as  we  have  said,  the  greater 
part  of  the  plate,  and  that  his  cowardly  conscience  magnified 
faults  and  disasters  of  which  no  one  else  probably  took  heed. 

But  Rosa  thought,  from  the  supercilious  air  with  which 
Mrs.  Topham  Sawyer  was  eyeing  the  plate  and  other  arrange- 
ments, that  she  was  remarking  the  difference  of  the  ciphers  on 
the  forks  and  spoons — (which  had,  in  fact,  been  borrowed  from 
every  one  of  Fitzroy's  friends — I  know,  for  instance,  that  he 
had  my  six,  among  others,  and  only  returned  five,  along  with 
a  battered  old  black-pronged  plated  abomination,  which  I  have 
no  doubt  belongs  to  Mrs.  Gashleigh,  whom  I  hereby  request  to 
send  back  mine  in  exchange) — their  guilty  consciences,  I  say, 
made  them  fancy  that  every  one  was  spying  out  their  domestic 
deficiencies  :  whereas,  it  is  probable  that  nobody  present  thought 
of  their  failings  at  all.  People  never  do :  they  never  see  holes 
in  their  neighbors'  coats — they  are  too  indolent,  simple,  and 
charitable. 

Some  things,  however,  one  could  not  help  remarking :  for 
instance,  though  Fitz  is  my  closest  friend,  yet  could  I  avoid 
seeing  and  being  amused  by  his  perplexity  and  his  dismal  ef- 
forts to  be  facetious  ?  His  eye  wandered  all  round  the  little 
room  with  quick  uneasy  glances,  very  different  from  those  frank 
and  jovial  looks  with  which  he  is  accustomed  to  welcome  you  to 
a  leg  of  mutton  ;  and  Rosa,  from  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and 
over  the  flowers,  entree  dishes,  and  wine-coolers,  telegraphed 
him  with  signals  of  corresponding  alarm.  Poor  devils  !  why 
did  they  ever  go  beyond  that  leg  of  mutton  ? 

Funnyman  was  not  brilliant  in  conversation,  scarcely  open- 
ing his  mouth,  except  for  the  purposes  of  feasting  The  fact 
is,  our  friend  Tom  Dawson  was  at  table,  who  knew  all  his  sto- 
ries, and  in  his  presence  the  greatest  wag  is  always  silent  and 
uneasy. 

Fitz  has  a  very  pretty  wit  of  his  own,  and  a  good  reputation 
on  circuit ;  but  he  is  timid  before  great  people.  And  indeed 
the  presence  of  that  awful  Lady  Bungay  on  his  right  hand  was 
enough  to  damp  him.  She  was  in  court  mourning  (for  the 
late  Prince  of  Schlippenschloppen).    She  had  on  a  large  black 

47 


732 


STORIES. 


funeral  turban  and  appurtenances,  and  a  vast  breastplate  of 
twinkling,  twiddling  black  bugles.  No  wonder  a  man  could 
not  be  gay  in  talking  to  her. 

Mrs.  Rowdy  and  Mrs.  Topham  Sawyer  love  each  other  as 
women  do  who  have  the  same  receiving  nights,  and  ask  the 
same  society;  they  were  only  separated  by  Ranville  Ranville, 
who  tries  to  be  well  with  both  :  and  they  talked  at  each  othet 
across  him, 

Topham  and  Rowdy  growled  out  a  conversation  about 
Rum,  Ireland,  and  the  Navagation  Laws,  quite  unfit  for  print. 
Sawyer  never  speaks  three  words  without  mentioning  the  House 
and  the  Speaker. 

The  Irish  Peer  said  nothing  (which  was  a  comfort)  ;  but  he 
ate  and  drank  of  everything  which  came  in  his  way  ;  and  cut  his 
usual  absurd  figure  in  dyed  whiskers  and  a  yellow  under-waist- 
coat. 

General  Gulpin  sported  his  star,  and  looked  fat  and  florid, 
but  melancholy.  His  wife  ordered  away  his  dinner,  just  like 
honest  Sancho's  physician  at  Barataria. 

Botherby's  stories  about  Lamartine  are  as  old  as  the  hills, 
since  the  barricades  of  1848  ;  and  he  could  not  get  in  a  word 
or  cut  the  slightest  figure.  And  as  for  Tom  Dawson,  he  was 
carrying  on  an  undertoned  small-talk  with  Lady  Barbara  St. 
Mary's,  so  that  there  was  not  much  conversation  worth  record 
going  on  within  the  dining-room. 

"  Outside  it  was  different.  Those  houses  in  Lilliput  Street  are 
so  uncommonly  compact,  tliat  you  can  hear  everything  which 
takes  place  all  over  the  tenement ;  and  so — 

In  the  awful  pauses  of  the  banquet,  and  the  hall-door  being 
furthermore  open,  we  had  the  benefit  of  hearing  : 

The  cook,  and  the  occasional  cook,  below  stairs,  exchang- 
ing rapid  phrases  regarding  the  dinner  ; 

The  smash  of  the  soup-tureen,  and  swift  descent  of  the 
kitchen-maid  and  soup-ladle  down  the  stairs  to  the  lower 
regions.  This  accident  created  a  laugh,  and  rather  amused 
Fitzroy  and  the  company,  and  caused  Funnyman  to  say,  bow- 
ing to  Rosa,  that  she  was  mistress  of  herself,  though  China  fall. 
But  she  did  not  heed  him,  for  at  that  moment  another  noise 
commenced,  namely,  that  of — 

The  baby  in  the  upper  rooms,  who  commenced  a  series 
of  piercing  yells,  which,  though  stopped  by  the  sudden  clap- 
ping to  of  the  nursery  door,  were  only  more  dreadful  to  the 
mother  when  suppressed.  She  would  have  given  a  guinea  to 
go  up  stairs  and  have  done  with  the  whole  entertainment. 


A  LITTLE  DINNER  AT  TIMMINS'S. 


1ZZ 


A  thundering  knock  came  at  the  door  very  early  after  the 
dessert,  and  the  poor  soul  took  a  speedy  opportunity  of  sum- 
moning the  ladies  to  depart,  though  you  may  be  sure  it  was 
only  old  Mrs.  Gashleigh,  who  had  come  with  her  daughters — ■ 
of  course  the  first  person  to  come.  I  saw  her  red  gown  whisk- 
ing up  the  stairs,  which  were  covered  with  plates  and  dishes, 
over  which  she  trampled. 

Instead  of  having  any  quiet  after  the  retreat  of  the  ladies, 
the  house  was  kept  in  a  rattle,  and  the  glasses  jingled  on  the 
table  as  the  flymen  and  coachmen  plied  the  knocker,  and 
the  soiree  came  in.  From  my  place  1  could  see  everything : 
the  guests  as  they  arrived  (I  remarked  very  few  carriages, 
mostly  cabs  and  flies),  and  a  little  crowd  of  blackguard  boys 
and  children,  who  were  formed  round  the  door,  and  gave  ironi- 
cal cheers  to  the  folks  as  thev  stepped  out  of  their  vehicles. 

As  for  the  evening-party,  if  a  crowd  in  the  dog-days  is  pleas- 
ant, poor  Mrs.  Timmins  certainly  had  a  successful  soi?''ee.  You 
could  hardly  move  on  the  stair.  Mrs.  Sternhold  broke  in  the 
banisters,  and  nearly  fell  through.  There  was  such  a  noise 
and  chatter  you  could  not  hear  the  singing  of  the  Miss  Gash- 
leighs,  which  was  no  great  loss.  Lady  Bungay  could  hardly 
get  to  her  carriage,  being  entangled  with  Colonel  Wedgewood 
in  the  passage.  An  absurd  attempt  was  made  to  get  up  a  dance 
of  sonie  kind  ;  but  before  Mrs.  Crowder  had  got  round  the 
room,  the  hanging-lamp  in  the  dining-room  below  was  stove  in, 
and  fell  with  a  crash  on  the  table,  now  prepared  for  refresh- 
ment. 

Why,  in  fact,  did  the  Timminses  give  that  party  at  all  ?  It 
was  quite  beyond  their  means.  They  have  offended  a  score 
of  their  old  friends,  and  pleased  none  of  their  acquaintances. 
So  angry  were  many  who  were  not  asked,  that  poor  Rosa  says 
she  must  now  give  a  couple  more  parties  and  take  in  those  not 
previously  invited.  And  I  know  for  a  fact  that  Fubsby's  bill 
is  not  yet  paid  ;  nor  Binney  and  Latham's  the  wine-merchants  ; 
that  the  breakage  and  hire  of  glass  and  china  cost  ever  so  much 
money  ;  that  every  true  friend  of  Timmins  has  cried  out  against 
his  absurd  extravagance,  and  that  now,  when  every  one  is  go-' 
ing  out  of  town,  Fitz  has  hardly  money  to  pay  his  circuit,  much 
more  to  take  Rosa  to  a  watering-place,  as  he  wished  and 
promised. 

As  for  Mrs.  Gashleigh,  the  only  feasible  plan  of  economy 
which  she  can  suggest,  is  that  she  should  come  and  live  with 
her  daughter  and  son-in-law,  and  that  they  should  keep  house 
together.     If   he  agrees  to  this,  she  has  a  little  sum  at  the 


734 


STOR/ES. 


banker's,  with  which  she  would  not  mind  easing  his  present 
difficulties  ;  and  the  poor  wretch  is  so  utterly  bewildered  and 
crest-fallen  that  it  is  very  likely  he  will  become  her  victim. 

The  I'opham  Sawyers,  when  they  go  down  into  the  country, 
will  represent  Fitz  as  a  ruined  man  and  reckless  prodigal  •  his 
uncle,  the  attorney,  from  whom  he  has  expectations,  will  most 
likely  withdraw  his  business,  and  adopt  some  other  member  of 
his  family — Blanche  Crowder  for  instance,  whose  husband,  the 
doctor,  has  had  high  words  with  poor  Fitzroy  already,  of  course 
at  the  women's  instigation.  And  all  these  accumulated  miser- 
ies fall  upon  the  unfortunate  wretch  because  he  was  good- 
aatured,  and  his  wife  would  have  a  Little  Dinner. 


THE    FATAL   BOOTS. 


JANUARY.— THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  YEAR. 

Some  poet  has  observed,  that  if  any  man  would  write  down 
what  has  really  happened  to  him  in  this  mortal  life,  he  would 
be  sure  to  make  a  good  book,  though  he  never  had  met  with  a 
single  adventure  from  his  birth  to  his  burial.  How  much  more, 
then,  must  I,  who  have  had  adventures,  most  singular,  pathetic, 
and  unparalleled,  be  able  to  compile  an  instructive  and  enter- 
taining volume  for  the  use  of  the  public. 

I  don't  mean  to  say  that  I  have  killed  lions,  or  seen  the 
wonders  of  travel  in  the  deserts  of  Arabia  or  Prussia  ;  or  that 
I  have  been  a  very  fashionable  character,  living  with  dukes  and 
peeresses,  and  writing  my  recollections  of  them,  as  the  v/ay 
now  is.  I  never  left  this  my  native  isle,  nor  spoke  to  a  lord 
(except  an  Irish  one,  who  had  rooms  in  our  house,  and  forgot 
to  pay  three  weeks'  lodging  and  extras)  ;  but,  as  our  immortal 
bard  observes,  I  have  in  the  course  of  my  existence  been  so 
eaten  up  by  the  slugs  and  harrows  of  outrageous  fortune,  and 
have  been  the  object  of  such  continual  and  extraordinary  ill- 
luck,  that  I  believe  it  would  melt  the  heart  of  a  milestone  to 
read  of  it — that  is,  if  a  milestone  had  a  heart  of  anything  but 
stone. 

Twelve  of  my  adventures,  suitable  for  meditation  and  per- 
usal during  the  twelve  months  of  the  year,  have  been  arranged 
by  me  for  this  work.  They  contain  a  part  of  the  history  of  a 
great,  and,  confidently  I  may  say,  a  good  man.  I  was  not  a 
spendthrift  like  other  men,  I  never  wronged  any  man  of  a 
shilling,  though  I  am  as  sharp  a  'fellow  at  a  bargain  as  any  in 
Eurooe.     I  never  injured  a  fellow-creature ;  on  the  contrary, 

(735) 


736  STOT^/ES. 

on  several  occasions,  when  injured  myself,  have  shown  the 
most  wonderful  forbearance.  I  come  of  a  tolerably  good 
family  ;  and  yet,  born  to  wealth — of  an  inoffensive  disposition, 
careful  of  the  money  that  I  had,  and  eager  to  get  more, — I 
have  been  going  down  hill  ever  since  my  journey  of  life  began, 
and  have  been  pursued  by  a  complication  of  misfortunes  such 
as  surely  never  happened  to  any  man  but  the  unhappy  Bob 
Stubbs. 

Eob  Stubbs  is  my  name  ;  and  I  haven't  got  a  shilling:  I 
have  borne  the  commission  of  lieutenant  in  the  service  of  King 
George,  and  am  nazct — but  never  mind  what  I  am  now,  for  the 
public  will  know  in  a  few  pages  more.  My  father  was  of  the 
Suffolk  Stubbses  —  a  well-to-do  gentleman  of  Bungay.  My 
grandfather  had  been  a  respected  attorney  in  that  town,  and 
left  my  papa  a  pretty  little  fortune.  I  was  thus  the  inheritor  of 
competence,  and  ought  to  be  at  this  moment  a  gentleman. 

My  misfortunes  may  be  said  to  have  commenced  about  a 
3^ear  before  my  birth,  when  my  papa,  a  young  fellow  pretending 
to  study  the  law  in  London,  fell  madly  in  love  with  Miss  Smith, 
the  daughter  of  a  tradesman,  who  did  not  give  her  a  sixpence, 
and  afterwards  became  bankrupt.  My  papa  married  this  Miss 
Smith,  and  carried  her  off  to  the  country,  where  I  was  born,  in 
an  evil  hour  for  me. 

Were  I  to  attempt  to  describe  my  early  years,  you  would 
iLugh  at  me  as  an  impostor  ;  but  the  following  letter  from 
mamma  to  a  friend,  after  her  marriage,  will  pretty  well  show 
you  what  a  poor  foolish  creature  she  was  ;  and  what  a  reckless 
extravagant  fellow  was  my  other  unfortunate  parent : — 

"  TO    MISS    ELIZA    KICKS,    IN    GRACECHURCH    STREET,    LONDON. 

"  Oh,  Eliza !  your  Susan  is  the  happiest  girl  under  heaven  ! 
My  Thomas  is  an  angel !  not  a  tall  grenadier-like  looking 
fellow,  such  as  I  always  vowed  I  would  marry  : — on  the  con- 
trary, he  is  what  the  world  would  call  dumpy,  and  I  hesitate 
not  to  confess,  that  his  eyes  have  a  cast  in  them.  But  what 
then  ?  when  one  of  his  eyes  is  fixed  on  me,  and  one  on  my 
babe,  they  are  lighted  up  with  an  affection  which  my  pen  can- 
not describe,  and  which,  certainly,  was  never  bestowed  upon 
any  woman  so  strongly  as  upon  your  hapiw  Susan  Stubbs. 

"When  he  comes  home  from  shooting,  or  the  farm,  if  you 
cotdd s^Q.  dear  Thomas  with  me  and  our  dear  little  Bob!  as  I 
sit  on  one  knee,  and  baby  on  the  other,  and  he  dances  us  both 
about.     I  often  wish  that  we  had  Sir  Joshua,  or  some  great 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


737 


painter,  to  depict  the  group  ;  for  sure  it  is  the  prettiest  picture 
in  the  whole  world,  to  see  three  such  loving  merry  people. 

"  Dear  baby  is  the  most  lovely  little  creature  that  can  possi- 
bly be, — the  very  linage  of  papa ;  he  is  cutting  his  teeth,  and  the 
delight  of  ei'erybody.  Nurse  says  that  when  he  is  older,  he  will 
get  rid  of  his  squint  and  his  hair  will  get  a  great  deal  less  red. 
Doctor  Bates  is  as  kind,  and  skilful,  and  attentive  as  we  could 
desire.  Think  what  a  blessing  to  have  had  him  !  Ever  since 
poor  baby's  birth,  it  has  never  had  a  day  of  quiet ;  and  he  has 
been  obliged  to  give  it  from  three  to  four  doses  every  week  ; — 
how  thankful  ought  we  to  be  that  the  dear  tiling  is  as  well  as  it 
is  !  It  got  through  the  measles  wonderfully  ;  then  it  had  a 
little  rash  ;  and  then  a  nasty  hooping-cough  ;  and  then  a  fever, 
and  continual  pains  in  its  poor  little  stomach,  crying,  poor  dear 
child,  from  morning  till  night. 

"  But  dear  Tom  is  an  excellent  nurse  ;  and  many  and  many 
a  night  has  he  had  no  sleep,  dear  man  !  in  consequence  of  the 
pool  little  baby.  He  walks  up  and  down  with  it  for  hours, 
singing  a  kind  of  song  (dear  fellow,  he  has  no  more  voice  than 
a  tea-kettle),  and  bobbing  his  head  backwards  and  forwards, 
and  looking  in  his  nightcap  and  dressing-gown,  so  droll.  Oh, 
Eliza !  how  you  would  laugh  to  see  him. 

"  We  have  one  of  the  best  nursemaids  in  the  world, — an 
Irishwoman,  who  is  as  fond  of  baby  almost  as  his  mother  (but 
that  can  never  be).  She  takes  it  to  walk  in  the  park  for  hours 
together,  and  I  really  don't  know  why  Thomas  dislikes  her. 
He  says  she  is  tipsy,  very  often,  and  slovenly,  which  I  cannot 
conceive  ; — to  be  sure  the  nurse  is  sadly  dirty,  and  sometimes 
smells  very  strong  of  gin. 

"  But  what  of  that  ? — these  little  drawbacks  only  make 
home  more  pleasant.  When  one  thinks  how  many  mothers 
have  Tto  nursemaids  :  how  many  poor  dear  children  have  no 
doctors  :  ought  we  not  to  be  thankful  for  Mary  Malowney,  and 
that  Dr.  Bates's  bill  is  forty-seven  pounds  ?  How  ill  must  dear 
baby  have  been,  to  require  so  much  physic ! 

"  But  they  are  a  sad  expense,  these  dear  babies,  after  all. 
Fancy,  Eliza,  how  much  this  Mary  Malowney  costs  us.  Ten 
shillings  every  week  ;  a  glass  of  brandy  or  gin  at  dinner  ;  three 
pint-bottles  of  Mr.  Thrale's  best  porter  every  day, — making 
twenty-one  in  a  week,  and  nine  hundred  and  ninety  in  the 
eleven  months  she  has  been  with  us.  Then,  for  baby,  there  is 
Dr.  Bates's  bill  of  forty-five  guineas,  two  guineas  for  christen- 
ing, twenty  for  a  grand  christening  supper  and  ball  (rich  uncle 
John  mortally  offended  because  he  was  made  godfather,  and 


738  STORIES. 

had  to  give  baby  a  silver  cup  :  he  has  struck  Thomas  out  of 
his  will :  and  old  Mr.  Firkin  quite  as  much  hurt  because  he 
was  fiot  asked  :  he  will  not  speak  to  me  or  Thomas  in  conse- 
quence) ;  twenty  guineas  for  flannels,  laces,  little  gowns,  caps, 
napkins,  and  such  baby's  ware  :  and  all  this  out  of  300/.  a 
year  !     But  Thomas  expects  to  make  a  great  deal  by  his  farm. 

"  We  have  got  the  most  charming  country-house  you  can 
imagine :  it  is  ^ui/e  shut  in  by  trees,  and  so  retired  that,  though 
only  thirty  miles  from  London,  the  post  comes  to  us  but  once  a 
■week.  The  roads,  it  must  be  confessed,  are  execrable  ;  ir  is 
■winter  now,  and  we  are  up  to  our  knees  in  mud  and  snow. 
But  oh,  Eliza !  how  happy  we  are  :  with  Thomas  (he  has  had  a 
sad  attack  of  rheumatism,  dear  man  !)  and  little  Bobby,  and  our 
kind  friend  Dr.  Bates,  who  comes  so  far  to  see  us,  I  leave  you 
to  fancy  that  we  have  a  charming  merry  party,  and  do  not  care 
for  all  the  gayeties  of  Ranelagh. 

"  Adieu  !  dear  baby  is  crying  for  his  mamma.  A  thousand 
kisses  from  your  affectionate 

"  Susan  Stubbs." 

There  it  is  !  Doctor's  bills,  gentleman-farming,  twenty-one 
pints  of  porter  a  week.  In  this  way  my  unnatural  parents  were 
already  robbing  me  of  my  property. 


FEBRUARY.— CUTTING  WEATHER. 

T  HAVE  called  this  chapter  "cutting  weather,"  partly  in  com- 
pliment to  the  month  of  February,  and  partly  in  respect  of  my 
own  misfortunes,  which  you  are  going  to  read  about.  For  I 
have  often  thought  that  January  (which  is  mostly  twelfth-cake 
and  Iwliday  time)  is  like  the  first  four  or  five  years  of  a  little 
boy's  life ;  then  comes  dismal  February,  and  the  working-days 
■with  it,  when  chaps  begin  to  look  out  for  themselves,  after  the 
Christmas  and  the  New  Year's  heyday  and  merry-making  are 
over,  which  our  infancy  may  well  be  said  to  be.  Well  can  I 
recollect  that  bitter  first  of  February,  when  I  first  launched  out 
out  into  the  world  and  appeared  at  Doctor  Swishtail's  academy, 

I  began  at  school  that  life  of  prudence  and  economy  which 
I  have  carried  on  ever  since.  My  mother  gave  me  eighteen- 
pence  on  setting  out  (poor  soul !  I  thought  her  lieart  would  break 
J.S  she  kissed  me,  and  bade  God  bless  me)  ;  and,  besides,  I 
had  a  small  capital  of  my  own^  which  I  had  amassed  for  a  year 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS.  73^ 

previous.  I'll  tell  j-ouwhat  I  used  to  do.  Wherever  I  saw  six 
halfpence  I  took  one.  If  it  was  asked  for,  I  said  I  liad  taken 
it,  and  gave  it  back  ; — if  it  was  not  missed,  I  said  nothing 
about  it,  as  why  should  I  ? — those  who  don't  miss  their  money 
don't  lose  their  money.  So  I  had  a  little  private  fortune  of 
three  shillings,  besides  mother's  eighteenpence.  At  school 
they  called  me  the  copper  merchant,  I  had  such  lots  of  it. 

Now,  even  at  a  preparatory  school,  a  well-regulated  boy  may 
better  himself :  and  I  can  tell  you  I  did.  I  never  was  in 
any  quarrels  :  I  never  was  very  high  in  the  class  or  very  low  ; 
but  there  was  no  chap  so  much  respected: — and  why?  I\l 
always  money.  The  other  boys  spent  all  theirs  in  the  first 
day  or  two,  and  they  gave  me  plenty  of  cakes  and  barley-sugar 
then,  I  can  tell  you.  I'd  no  need  to  spend  my  own  money,  for 
they  would  insist  upon  treating  me.  Well,  in  a  week,  when 
theirs  was  gone,  and  they  had  but  their  threepence  a  week  to 
look  to  for  the  rest  of  the  half-year,  what  did  I  do  ?  Why,  I 
am  proud  to  say  that  three-halfpence  out  of  the  three-pence  a 
week  of  almost  all  the  young  gentlemen  at  Dr.  Swishtail's  came 
into  my  pocket.  Suppose  for  instance,  Tom  Hicks  wanted  a 
slice  of  gingerbread,  who  had  the  money  ?  Little  Bob  Stubbs, 
to  be  sure.  "  Hicks,"  I  used  to  say,  "  111  buy  you  three  half- 
p'orth  of  gingerbread,  if  you'll  give  me  threepence  next  Satur- 
day." And  he  agreed  ;  and  next  Saturday  came,  and  he  very 
often  could  not  pay  me  more  than  three-halfpence.  Then  there 
was  the  threepence  I  was  to  have  the  next  Saturday.  I'll  tell 
you  what  I  did  for  a  whole  half-year  : — I  lent  a  chap  by  the 
name  of  Dick  Bunting,  three-halfpence  the  first  Saturday  for 
threepence  the  next :  he  could  not  pay  me  more  than  half 
when  Saturday  came,  and  I'm  blest  if  I  did  not  make  him  pay 
me  three-halfpence  for  three-and-tivcnty  weeks  runfimg,  making 
two  shillings  and  tenpence-halfpenny.  But  he  was  a  sad  dis- 
honorable fellow,  Dick  Bunting  ;  for  after  I'd  been  so  kind  to 
him,  and  let  him  off  for  three-and-twenty-weeks  the  money  he 
owed  me,  holidays  came,  and  threepence  he  owed  me  still. 
Well,  according  to  the  common  principles  of  practice,  after  six 
weeks'  holidays,  he  ought  to  have  paid  me  exactly  sixteen 
shillings,  which  was  my  due.     For  the 

First  week  the  3?^.  would  be    6ci   1  Fourth  week 4J. 

Second  week is.  \  Fifth      week Zs. 

Third  week 2s.  \  Sixth     week ids. 

Nothing  could  be  more  just ;  and  yet — will  it  be  believed  ? — • 
vhen  Bunting  came  back  he  offered  me  three-halfpence  I  the 
mean,  dishonest  scoundrel. 


740^ 


STORIES. 


However,  I  was  even  with  him,  I  can  tell  you. — He  spent 
all  his  money  in  a  fortnight,  and  then  I  screwed  hmi  down  !  I  ' 
made  him,  besides  giving  me  a  penny  for  a  penny,  pay  me  a 
quarter  of  his  bread-and-butter  at  breakfast  and  a  quarter  of 
his  cheese  at  supper  ;  and  before  the  half-year  was  out,  I  got 
from  him  a  silver  fruit-knife,  a  box  of  compasses,  and  a  very 
pretty  silver-laced  waiscoat,  in  which  I  went  home  as  proud  as 
a  king  :  and  what's  more,  I  had  no  less  than  three  golden  guineas 
in  the  pocket  of  it,  besides  fifteen  shillings,  the  knife,  and  a 
brass  bottle-screw,  which  I  got  from  another  chap.  It  wasn't 
bad  interest  for  twelve  shillings — which  was  all  the  money  I'd 
had  in  the  year — was  it  ?  Heigho  !  I've  often  wished  that  I 
could  get  such  a  chance  again  in  this  wicked  world  ;  but  men 
are  more  avaricious  now  than  they  used  to  be  in  those  dear  early 
days. 

Well,  I  went  home  in  my  new  waistcoat  as  fine  as  a  peacock  ; 
and  when  I  gave  the  bottle-screw  to  my  father,  begging  him  to 
take  it  as  a  token  of  my  affection  for  him,  my  dear  mother 
burst  into  such  a  fit  of  tears  as  I  never  saw,  and  kissed  and 
hugged  me  fit  to  smother  me.  "  Bless  him,  bless  him,"  says 
she,  "  to  think  of  his  old  father.  And  where  did  you  purchase 
it.  Bob  ?  " — "  Why,  mother,"  says  I,  "  I  purchased  it  out  of  my 
savings  "  (which  was  as  true  as  the  gospel). — When  I  said  this, 
mother  looked  round  to  father,  smiUng,  although  she  had  tears 
in  her  eyes,  and  she  took  his  hand,  and  with  her  other  hand 
drew  me  to  her.  "Is  he  not  a  noble  boy?"  says  she  to  my 
father :  "  and  only  nine  years  old  I  " — "  Faith,"  says  my  father, 
'•  he  is  a  good  lad,  Susan.  Thank  thee,  my  boy :  and  here  is  a 
c'own-piece  in  return  for  thy  bottle-screw : — it  shall  open  us  a 
bottle  of  the  very  best  too,"  says  my  father.  And  he  kept  his 
word.  I  always  was  fond  of  good  wine  (though  never,  from  a 
motive  of  proper  self-denial,  having  any  in  my  cellar)  ;  and,  by 
Jupiter !  on  this  night  I  had  my  little  skinful, — for  there  was 
no  stinting, — so  pleased  were  my  dear  parents  with  the  bottle^ 
screw.  The  best  of  it  was,  it  only  cost  me  threepence  originally 
which  a  chap  could  not  pay  me. 

Seeing  this  game  was  such  a  good  one,  I  became  very 
generous  towards  my  parents ;  and  a  capital  way  it  is  to 
encourage  liberality  in  children.  I  gave  mamma  a  very  neat 
brass  thimble,  and  she  gave  me  a  half-guinea  piece.  Then  I 
gave  her  a  very  pretty  needle-book,  which  I  made  myself  with  an 
ace  of  spades  from  a  new  pack  of  caids  we  had,  and  I  got  Sally, 
our  maid,  to  cover  it  with  a  bit  of  pink  satin  her  mistress  had 
given  her  ;  and  I   made  the  leaves  of  the  book,  which  I  van- 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


741 


dyked  very  nicely,  out  of  a  piece  of  flannel  I  had  had  round  my 
neck  for  a  sore  throat.  It  smelt  a  little  of  hartshorn,  but  it  was 
a  beautiful  needle-book  ;  and  mamma  was  so  delighted  with  it, 
that  she  went  into  town  and  bought  me  a  gold-laced  hat. 
Then  I  bought  papa  a  pretty  china  tobacco-stopper  :  but  I  am 
sorry  to  say  of  my  dear  father  that  he  was  not  so  generous  as 
my  mamma  or  myself,  for  he  only  burst  out  liughing,  and  did 
not  give  me  so  much  as  a  half-crown  piece,  which  was  the  least 
I  expected  from  him.  "  I  sha'n't  give  you  anything,  Bob,  this 
time,"  says  he  ;  ''  and  I  wish,  my  boy,  you  would  not  make  any 
more  such  presents, — for,  really,  they  are  too  expensive."  Ex- 
pensive indeed  !     I  hate  meanness, — even  in  a  father. 

I  must  tell  you  about  the  silver-edged  waistcoat  which 
Bunting  gave  me.  Mamma  asked  me  about  it,  and  I  told  her 
the  truth, — that  it  was  a  present  from  one  of  the  boys  for  my 
kindness  to  him.  Well,  what  does  she  do  but  writes  back  to 
Dr.  Swishtail,  when  I  went  to  school,  thanking  him  for  his 
attention  to  her  dear  son,  and  sending  a  shilling  to  the  good 
and  grateful  little  boy  who  had  given  me  the  waistcoat ! 

"  What  waistcoat  is  it,"  says  the  Doctor  to  me,  "  and  who 
gave  it  to  you  .^ 

"  Bunting  gave  it  me,  sir,"  says  I. 

"  Call  Bunting  !  "  And  up  the  little  ungrateful  chap  came. 
Would  you  believe  it,  he  burst  into  tears, — told  that  the  waist- 
coat had  been  given  him  by  his  mother,  and  that  he  had  been 
forced  to  give  it  for  a  debt  to  Copper  Merchant,  as  the  nasty 
Uttle  blackguard  called  me.''  He  then  said  how,  for  three- 
halfpence,  he  had  been  compelled  to  pay  me  three  shillings 
(the  sneak  !  as  if  he  had  been  obliged  to  borrow  the  three-half- 
pence !) — how  all  the  other  boys  had  been  sv»'indled  (swindled  !) 
by  me  in  like  manner, — and  how,  with  only  twelve  shillings,  I 
had  managed  to  scrape  together  four  guineas.      *     *     *     * 

My  courage  almost  fails  me  as  I  describe  the  shameful  scene 
that  followed.  The  boys  were  called  in,  my  little  account-book 
was  dragged  out  of  my  cupboard,  to  prove  how  much  I  had 
received  from  each,  and  every  farthing  of  my  money  was  paid 
back  to  them.  The  tyrant  took  the  thirty  shillings  that  my  dear 
parents  had  given  me,  and  said  he  should  put  them  into  the 
poor-box  at  church ;  and,  after  having  made  a  long  discourse 
to  the  boys  about  meanness  and  usury,  he  said,  "  Take  off  your 
coat,  Mr.  Stubbs,  and  restore  Bunting  his  waistcoat."  I  did, 
and  stood  without  coat  and  waistcoat  in  the  midst  of  the  nasty 
grinning  boys.     I  was  going  to  put  on  my  coat, — 

"  Stop !  "  says  he.     "  Take  down  his  Breeches  !  " 


742 


STOR/ES. 


Ruthless,  brutal  villain  !  Sam  Hopkins,  the  biggest  boy, 
took  them  down — horsed  me  —  and  I  was  flogged,  sir:  yes 
flogged  I  O  revenge  !  I,  Robert  vStubbs,  who  had  done  noth- 
ing but  what  was  right,  was  brutally  flogged  at  ten  years  of  age  ! 
— Though  February  was  the  shortest  month,  I  remembered  it 
ions:. 


MARCH.— SHOWERY. 


When  my  mamma  heard  of  the  treatment  of  her  darling 
she  was  for  bringing  an  action  against  the  schoolmaster,  or  else 
for  tearing  his  eyes  out  (when,  dear  soul  !  she  would  not  have 
torn  the  eyes  out  of  a  flea,  had  it  been  her  own  injury),  and,  at 
the  very  least,  for  having  me  removed  from  the  school  where  I 
had  been  so  shamefully  treated.  But  papa  was  stern  for  once, 
and  vowed  that  I  had  been  served  quite  right,  declared  that  I 
should  not  be  removed  from  the  school,  and  sent  old  Swishtail 
a  brace  of  pheasants  for  what  he  called  his  kindness  to  me. 
Of  these  the  old  gentleman  invited  me  to  partake,  and  made 
a  very  cjueer  speech  at  dinner,  as  he  was  cutting  them  up,  about 
the  excellence  of  my  parents,  and  his  own  determination  to  be 
kinder  still  to  me,  if  ever  I  ventured  on  such  practices  again. 
So  I  was  obliged  to  give  up  my  old  trade  of  lending  :  for  the 
Doctor  declared  that  any  boy  who  borrowed  should  be  flogged, 
and  any  one  who /<?/</ should  be  flogged  twice  as  much.  There 
was  no  standing  against  such  a  prohibition  as  this,  and  my  little 
commerce  was  ruined. 

I  was  not  very  high  in  the  school  :  not  having  been  able  to 
get  farther  than  that  dreadful  Fropria  qiccB  maribuo  in  the  Latin 
grammar,  of  which,  though  I  have  it  by  heart  even  now,  I  never 
could  understand  a  syllable  :  but,  on  account  of  my  size,  my 
age,  and  the  prayers  of  my  mother,  was  allowed  to  have  the 
privilege  of  the  bigger  boys,  and  on  holidays  to  walk  about  in 
the  town.  Great  dandies  we  were,  too,  when  we  thus  went  out. 
I  recollect  my  costume  very  well  :  a  thunder-and-lightning  coat, 
a  white  waistcoat  embroidered  neatly  at  the  pockets,  a  lace  frfll, 
a  pair  of  knee  breeches,  and  elegant  white  cotton  or  silk  stock- 
ings. This  did  very  well,  but  still  I  was  dissatisfied  :  I  wanted 
a  pair  of  boots.  Three  iDoys  in  the  school  had  boots — I  was 
mad  to  have  them  too. 

But  my  papa,  when  I  wrote  to  him,  would  not  hear  of  it  \ 
and  three  pounds,  the  price  of  a  pair,  was  too  large  a  sum  foi 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


743 


my  mother  to  take  from  the  housekeeping,  or  for  me  to  pay, 
in  the  present  impoverished  state  of  my  exchequer ;  but  the 
desire  for  the  boots  was  so  strong,  that  ♦have  them  I  must  at 
any  rate. 

There  was  a  German  bootmaker  who  had  just  set  up  in  our 
town  in  tliose  days,  who  afterwards  made  liis  fortune  in  London. 
I  determined  to  have  the  boots  from  him,  and  did  not  despair, 
before  the  end  of  a  year  or  two,  either  to  leave  the  school,  when 
I  should  not  mind  his  dunning  me,  or  to  screw  the  money  from 
mamma,  and  so  pay  him. 

So  I  called  upon  this  man — Stiffelkind  was  his  name — and 
he  took  my  measure  for  a  pair. 

"  You  are  a  vary  yong  gentleman  to  wear  dop-boots,"  said 
the  shoemaker. 

"I  suppose,  fellow,"  says  I,  "that  is  my  business  and  not 
yours.  Either  make  the  boots  or  not — but  when  you  speak  to 
a  man  of  my  rank,  speak  respectfully!"  And  I  poured  out  a 
number  of  oaths,  in  order  to  impress  him  with  a  notion  or  my 
respectability. 

They  had  the  desired  effect.  "  Stay,  sir,"  says  he.  "  I 
have  a  nice  littel  pair  of  dop-boots  dat  I  tink  will  jost  do  for 
you."  And  he  produced,  sure  enough,  the  most  elegant  things 
lever  saw.  "  Day  were  made,"  said  he,  "forde  Honorable 
Mr.  Stiffney,  of  de  Gards,  but  were  too  small." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !  "  said  I.  "  Stiffney  is  a  relation  of  mine. 
And  what,  you  scoundrel,  will  you  have  the  impudence  to  ask 
for  these  things  ?  "     He  replied,  "Three  pounds." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  they  are  confoundedly  dear ;  but,  as  )'0u 
will  have  a  long  time  to  wait  for  your  money,  why,  I  shall  have 
my  revenge  you  see."     The  man  looked  alarmed,  and  began  a 

speech  :  "  Sare, — I  cannot  let  dem  go  vidout  " but  a  bright 

thought  struck  me,  and  I  interrupted — "  Sir  !  don't  sir  me. 
Take  off  the  boots,  fellow,  and,  hark  ye,  when  you  speak  to  a 
nobleman,  don't  say — Sir." 

"A  hundert  tousand  pardons,  my  lort,"  says  he  :  "if  I  had 
known  you  were  a  lort,  I  vood  never  have  called  you — Sir. 
Vat  name  shall  I  put  down  in  my  books  ?  " 

"  Name  ? — -ah  !  why,  Lord  Cornwallis,  to  be  sure,"  said  I, 
as  I  walked  off  in  the  boots. 

"  And  vat  shall  I  do  vid  my  lort's  shoes  ?  " 

"  Keep  them  until  I  send  for  them,"  said  I.  And,  giving 
him  a  patronizing  bow,  I  walked  out  of  the  shop,  as  the  Ger- 
man tied  up  my  shoes  in  paper. 

«  #  *  «  * 


744 


STORIES. 


This  story  I  would  not  have  told,  but  that  my  whole  life 
turned  upon  these  accursed  boots.  I  walked  back  to  school  as 
proud  as  a  peacock,  and  easily  succeeded  in  satisfying  the 
boys  as  to  the  manner  in  which  I  came  by  my  new  ornaments. 

Well,  one  fatal  Monday  morning — the  blackest  of  all  black- 
Mondays  that  ever  I  knew — as  we  were  all  of  us  playing  be- 
tween school-hours,  I  saw  a  posse  of  boys  round  a  stranger, 
who  seemed  to  be  looking  out  for  one  of  us.  A  sudden  trem- 
bling seized  me — I  knew  it  was  Stiffelkind.  What  had  brought 
him  here  ?  He  talked  loud,  and  seemed  angry.  So  I  rushed 
into  the  school-room,  and  burying  my  head  between  my  hands, 
began  reading  for  dear  life. 

"  I  vant  Lort  Cornvallis, "  said  the  horrid  bootmaker. 
"  His  lortship  belongs,  I  know,  to  dis  honorable  school,  for  I 
saw  him  vid  de  boys  at  chorch  yesterday." 

"  Lord  who  ?  " 

"  Vy,  Lort  Cornvallis  to  be  sure — a  very  fat  yong  nobleman, 
vid  red  hair  :  he  squints  a  little,  and  svears  dreadfully," 

"  There's  no  Lord  Cornvallis  here,"  said  one ;  and  there 
was  a  pause. 

"  Stop  !  I  have  it,"  says  that  odious  Bunting.  "  It  fnust  be 
Stuhbs  !  "  And  "  Stubbs  !  Stubbs  !  "  every  one  cried  out,  while 
I  was  so  busy  at  my  book  as  not  to  hear  a  word. 

At  least,  two  of  the  biggest  chaps  rushed  into  the  school- 
room, and  seizing  each  an  arm,  run  me  into  the  playground — 
bolt  up  against  the  shoemaker. 

"  Dis  is  my  man.  I  beg  your  lortship's  pardon,"  says  he, 
"  I  have  brought  your  lortship's  shoes,  vich  you  left.  See,  dey 
have  been  in  dis  parcel  ever  since  you  vent  away  in  my  boots." 

"  Shoes,  fellow  !  "  says  L  "  I  never  saw  your  face  before !" 
For  I  knew  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  brazening  it  out. 
"  LTpon  the  honor  of  a  gentleman  !  "  said  I,  turning  round  to 
the  boys.  They  hesitated  ;  and  if  the  trick  had  turned  in  my 
favor,  tifty  of  them  would  have  seized  hold  of  Stiffelkind  and 
drubbed  him  soundly. 

"  Stop  !  "  says  Bunting  (hang  him  !).  "  Let's  see  the  shoes. 
If  they  fit  him,  why  then  the  cobbler's  right."  They  did  fit 
me  ;  and  not  only  that,  but  the  name  of  Stubbs  was  written  in 
them  at  full  length. 

"  Vat !  "  said  Stiffelkind,  "  Is  he  not  a  lort  ?  So  help  me 
Himmel,  I  never  did  vonce  tink  of  looking  at  de  shoes,  which 
have  been  lying  ever  since  in  dis  piece  of  brown  paper,"  And 
then,  gathering  anger  as  he  went  on,  he  thundered  out  so  much 
of  his  abuse  of  me,  in  his  German-English,  that  the  boys  roared 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


745 


with  laughter.  Swishtail  came  in  in  the  midst  of  the  disturb- 
ance, and  asked  what  the  noise  meant. 

"It's  only  Lord  Cornwallis,  sir,"  said  the  boys,  "battling 
with  his  shoemaker  about  the  price  of  a  pair  of  top-boots." 

"Oh,  sir,"  said  I,  "it  was  only  in  fun  that  I  called  myself 
Lord  Cornwallis." 

"  In  fun ! — Where  are  the  boots  ?  And  you,  sir,  give  me 
your  bill."  My  beautiful  boots  were  brought ;  and  Stiffelkind 
produced  his  bill.  "  Lord  Cornwallis  to  Samuel  Stiffelkind, 
for  a  pair  of  boots — four  guineas," 

"You  have  been  fool  enough,  sir,"  says  the  Doctor,  looking 
very  stern,  "  to  let  this  boy  impose  on  you  as  a  lord  ;  and 
knave  enough  to  charge  him  double  the  value  of  the  article  you 
sold  him.  Take  back  the  boots,  sir !  I  won't  joay  a  penny  o£ 
your  bill ;  nor  can  you  get  a  penny.  As  for  you,  sir,  you  miser- 
able swindler  and  cheat,  I  shall  not  flog  you  as  I  did  before, 
but  I  shall  send  you  home  :  you  are  not  fit  to  be  the  companion 
of  honest  boys." 

"  Suppose  we  duck  hivi  before  he  goes  ?  "  piped  out  a  very 
small  voice.  The  Doctor  grinned  significantly,  and  left  the 
school-room  ;  and  the  boys  knew  by  this  they  might  have  their 
will.  They  seized  me  and  carried  me  to  the  playground  pump : 
they  pumped  upon  me  until  I  was  half  dead  ;  and  the  monster, 
Stiffelkind,  stood  looking  on  for  the  half-hour  the  operation 
lasted. 

I  suppose  the  Doctor,  at  last,  thought  I  had  had  pumping 
enough,  for  he  rang  the  school-bell,  and  the  boys  were  obliged 
to  leave  me.  As  I  got  out  of  the  trough,  Stiftelkind  was  alone 
with  me.  "  Veil,  my  lort,"  says  he,  "  you  paid  something  for 
dese  boots,  but  not  all.  By  Jubider,  you  shall  never  hear  de  efid 
of  dcmT     And  I  didn't. 


APRIL.— FOOLING 


After  this,  as  you  may  fancy,  I  left  this  disgusting  estab- 
lishment, and  lived  for  some  time  along  with  pa  and  mamma  at 
home.  My  education  was  finished,  at  least  mamma  and  I 
agreed  that  it  was  ;  and  from  boyhood  until  hobbadyhoyhood 
(which  I  take  to  be  about  the  sixteenth  year  of  the  life  of  a 
young  man,  and  may  be  likened  to  the  month  of  April  when 


y46  STORTES. 

spring  begins  to  bloom) — from  fourteen  until  seventeen,  I  say, 
I  remained  at  home,  doing  nothing— for  which  I  have  ever 
since  had  a  great  taste — the  idol  of  my  mamma,  who  took  part 
in  all  my  quarrels  with  father,  and  used  regularly  to  rob  the 
weekly  expenses  in  order  to  find  me  in  pocket-money.  Poor 
soul !  many  and  many  is  the  guinea  I  have  had  from  her  in  that 
way  ;  and  so  she  enabled  me  to  cut  a  very  pretty  figure. 

Papa  was  for  having  me  at  this  time  articled  to  a  merchant, 
or  put  to  some  profession  ;  but  mamma  and  I  agreed  that  I  was 
born  to  be  a  gentleman  and  not  a  tradesman,  and  the  army  was 
the  only  place  for  me.  Everybody  was  a  soldier  in  those  times, 
for  the  French  war  had  just  began,  and  the  whole  country  was 
swarming  with  militia  regiments.  "  We'll  get  him  a  commission 
in  a  marching  regiment,"  said  my  father.  "  As  we  have  no 
money  to  purchase  him  up,  he'll  fght  his  way,  I  make  no 
doubt."  And  papa  looked  at  me  with  a  kind  of  air  of  contempt, 
as  much  as  to  say  he  doubted  whether  I  should  be  very  eager 
for  such  a  dangerous  way  of  bettering  myself. 

I  wish  you  could  have  heard  mamma's  screech  when  he 
talked  so  coolly  of  my  going  out  to  fight !  "  What !  send  him 
abroad,  across  the  horrid,  horrid  sea — to  be  wretched  and  per- 
haps drowned,  and  only  to  land  for  the  purpose  of  fighting  the 
wicked  Frenchmen, — to  be  wounded,  and  perhaps  kick — kick — 
killed  !  Oh,  Thomas,  Thomas  !  would  you  murder  me  and  your 
boy }  "  There  was  a  regular  scene.  However,  it  ended — as 
it  always  did — in  mother's  getting  the  better,  and  it  was  settled 
that  I  should  go  into  the  militia.  And  why  not  ?  The  uniform 
is  just  as  handsome,  and  the  danger  not  half  so  great.  I  don't 
think  in  the  course  of  my  whole  military  experience  I  ever 
fought  anything,  except  an  old  woman,  who  had  the  impudence 
to  hallo  out,  "  Heads  up,  lobster  !  " — Well,  I  joined  the  North 
Bungays,  and  was  fairly  launched  into  the  world. 

I  was  not  a  handsome  man,  I  know ;  but  there  was  sofne- 
thing  about  me  —  that's  very  evident — for  the  girls  always 
laughed  when  they  talked  to  me,  and  the  men,  though  ihey 
affected  to  call  me  a  poor  little  creature,  squint-eyes,  knock- 
knees,  red-head,  and  so  on,  were  evidently  annoyed  by  my  suc- 
cess, for  they  hated  me  so  confoundedly.  Even  at  the  present 
time  they  go  on,  though  I  have  given  up  gallivanting,  as  I  call 
it.  But  in  the  April  of  my  existence, — that  is,  in  anno  Domini 
1791,  or  so — it  was  a  different  case  ;  and  having  nothing  else 
to  do,  and  being  bent  upon  bettering  my  condition,  I  did  some 
very  pretty  things  in  that  way.  But  I  was  not  hot-headed  and 
impudent,  like  most  young  fellows.     Don't  fancy  I  looked  for 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


747 


beauty!  Pish! — I  wasn't  such  a  fool.  Nor  for  temper;  I 
don't  care  about  a  bad  temper  :  I  could  break  any  woman's 
heart  in  two  years.  What  I  wanted  was  to  get  on  in  the  world. 
Of  course  I  didn't /n;/irr  an  ugly  woman,  or  a  shrew  ;  and  when 
the  choice  offered,  would  certainly  put  up  with  a  handsome, 
good-humored  girl,  with  plenty  of  money,  as  any  honest  man 
would. 

Now  there  were  two  tolerably  rich  girls  in  our  parts  :  Miss 
Magdalen  Crutty,  with  twelve  thousand  pounds  (and,  to  do  her 
justice,  as  plain  a  girl  as  ever  I  saw),  and  Miss  Mary  Waters,  a 
fine,  tall,  plump,  smiling,  peach-cheeked,  golden-haired,  white- 
skinned  lass,  with  only  ten.  Mary  Waters  lived  with  her  uncle, 
the  Doctor,  who  had  helped  me  into  the  world,  and  who  was 
trusted  with  this  little  orphan  charge  very  soon  after.  My 
mother,  as  you  have  heard,  was  so  fond  of  Bates,  and  Bates  so 
fond  of  little  Mary,  that  both,  at  first,  were  almost  always  in  our 
house ;  and  I  used  to  call  her  my  little  wife  as  soon  as  I  could 
speak,  and  before  she  could  walk  almost.  It  was  beautiful  to 
see  us,  the  neighbors  said. 

Well,  when  her  brother,  the  lieutenant  of  an  India  ship, 
came  to  be  captain,  and  actually  gave  Mary  five  thousand 
pounds,  when  she  was  about  ten  years  old,  and  promised  her 
five  thousand  more,  there  was  a  great  talking,  and  bobbing,  and 
smiling  between  the  Doctor  and  my  parents,  and  Mary  and  I 
were  left  together  more  than  ever,  and  she  was  told  to  call  me 
her  little  husband.  And  she  did  ;  and  it  was  considered  a 
settled  thing  from  that  day.  She  was  really  amazingly  fond  of 
me. 

Can  any  one  call  me  mercenary  after  that  ?  Though  Miss 
Crutty  had  twelve  thousand,  and  Mary  only  ten  (five  in  hand, 
and  five  in  the  bush),  I  stuck  faithfully  to  Mary.  As  a  matter 
of  course,  Miss  Crutty  hated  Miss  Waters.  The  fact  was,  Mary 
had  all  the  country  dangling  after  her,  and  not  a  soul  would 
come  to  Magdalen,  for  all  her  12,000/.  I  used  to  be  attentive 
to  her  though  (as  it's  always  useful  to  be)  ;  and  Mary  would 
sometimes  laugh  and  sometimes  cr^'  at  my  flirting  with  Mag- 
dalen. This  I  thought  proper  very  quickly  to  check.  "  Mary," 
said  I,  "  you  know  that  my  love  for  you  is  disinterested, — for 
I  am  faithful  to  you,  though  Miss  Crutty  is  richer  than  you. 
Don't  fly  into  a  rage,  then,  because  I  pay  her  attentions, 
when  you  know  that  my  heart  and  my  promise  are  engaged  to 
you." 

"  The  fact  is,  to  tell  a  little  bit  of  a  secret,  there  is  nothing 
like  the  having  two  strings  to  your  bow.     "  Who  knows  ?  " 

4S 


748 


STORIES. 


thought  I.  "  Mary  may  die  ;  and  then  where  are  my  10,000/.?  " 
So  I  used  to  be  very  kind  indeed  to  Miss  Crutty  ;  and  well  it 
was  that  I  was  so  :  for  when  I  was  twenty  and  Mary  eighteen,. 
I'm  blest  if  news  did  not  arrive  that  Captain  Waters,  who  was 
coming  home  to  England  with  all  his  money  in  rupees,  had  been 
taken — ship,  rupees,  self  and  all — by  a  French  privateer  ;  and 
Mary,  instead  of  10,000/.,  had  only  5,000/.,  making  a  difference 
of  no  less  than  350/.  per  annum  betwixt  her  and  Miss  Crutty. 

I  had  just  joined  my  regiment  (the  famous  North  Bungay 
Fencibles,  Colonel  Craw  commanding)  when  this  news  reached 
me  ;  and  you  may  fancy  how  a  young  man,  in  an  expensive 
regiment  and  mess,  having  uniforms  and  what  not  to  pay  for, 
and  a  figure  to  cut  in  the  world,  felt  at  hearing  such  news  ! 
"My  dearest  Robert,"  wrote  Miss  Waters,  "will  deplore  my 
dear  brother's  loss:  but  not,  I  am  sure,  the  money  which  that 
kind  and  generous  soul  had  promised  me.  I  have  still  five 
thousand  pounds,  and  with  this  and  your  own  little  fortune  (I 
had  1,000/.  in  the  Five  per  Cents.  !)  we  shall  be  as  happy  and 
contented  as  possible." 

Happy  and  contented  indeed  1  Didn't  I  know  how  my 
father  got  on  with  his  300/  a  year,  and  how  it  was  all  he  could 
do  out  of  it  to  add  a  hundred  a  year  to  my  narrow  income,  and 
live  himself !  My  mind  was  made  up.  I  instantly  mounted 
the  coach  and  flew  to  our  village, — to  Mr.  Crutty's,  of  course. 
It  was  next  door  to  Doctor  Bates's  ;  but  I  had  no  business 
there, 

I  found  Magdalen  in  the  garden.  "  Heavens,  Mr.  Stubbs  !  " 
said  she,  as  in  my  new  uniform  I  appeared  before  her,  "  I 
really  did  never — such  a  handsome  officer — expect  to  see  you." 
And  she  made  as  if  she  would  blush,  and  began  to  tremble 
violently.  I  led  her  to  a  garden-seat.  I  seized  her  hand — it 
was  not  withdrawn.  I  pressed  it ; — I  thought  the  pressure  was 
returned.  I  flung  myself  on  my  knees,  and  then  I  poured  into 
her  ear  a  little  speech  which  I  had  made  on  the  top  of  the 
coach.  "  Divine  Miss  Crutty,"  said  I  ;  "  idol  of  my  soul  1  It 
was  but  to  catch  one  glimpse  of  you  that  I  passed  through  this 
garden.  I  never  intended  to  breathe  the  secret  passion  "  (oh, 
no  ;  of  course  not)  "  which  was  wearing  my  life  away.  You 
know  my  unfortunate  pre-engagement — it  is  broken,  and  for- 
ever !  I  am  free  ; — free,  but  to  be  your  slave, — your  humblest, 
fondest,  truest  slave  !  "     And  so  on.     *     *     * 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Stubbs,"  said  she,  as  I  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  hei 
cheek,  "  I  can't  refuse  you  ;  but  I  fear  you  are  a  sad  naughty 
man.     *     *     *  " 


THE  FATAL  BOOT3. 


749 


Absorbed  in  the  delicious  reverie  which  was  caused  by  the 
dear  creature's  confusion,  we  were  both  silent  for  a  while,  and 
should  have  remained  so  for  hours  perhaps,  so  lost  were  we  in 
happiness,  had  I  not  been  suddenly  roused  by  a  voice  exclaim- 
ing from  behind  us — 

"  Don't  cry,  Mary  !  He  is  a  szvindling,  sneaking  scoundrel, 
and  yon  are  well  rid  of  him  !  " 

I  turned  round.  O  heaven,  there  stood  Mary,  weeping  on 
Doctor  Bates's  arm,  while  that  miserable  apothecary  was  looking 
at  me  with  the  utmost  scorn.  The  gardener,  who  had  let  me 
in,  had  told  them  of  my  arrival,  and  now  stood  grinning  behind 
them.  "Imperence!"  was  my  Magdalen's  only  exclamation, 
as  she  flounced  by  with  the  utmost  self-possession,  while  I, 
glancing  daggers  at  f/ie  spies,  followed  her.  We  retired  to  the 
parlor,  where  she  repeated  to  me  the  strongest  assurances  of 
her  love. 

I  thought  I  was  a  made  man.     Alas  !   I  was  only  an  april 


FOOL 


MAY.— RESTORATION  DAY. 


As  the  month  of  May  is  considered,  by  poets  and  other 
philosophers,  to  be  devoted  by  Nature  to  the  great  purpose  of 
love-making,  I  may  as  well  take  advantage  of  that  season  and 
acquaint  you  with  the  result  of  my  amours. 

Young,  gay,  fascinating,  and  an  ensign — I  had  completely 
won  the  heart  of  my  Magdalen  ;  and  as  for  Miss  Waters  and 
her  nasty  uncle  the  Doctor,  there  was  a  complete  split  between 
us,  as  you  may  fancy ;  Miss  pretendmg,  forsooth,  that  she  was 
glad  I  had  broken  off  the  match,  though  she  would  have  given 
her  eyes,  the  little  minx,  to  have  had  it  on  again.  But  this 
was  out  of  the  question.  My  father,  who  had  all  sorts  of  queer 
notions,  said  I  had  acted  like  a  rascal  in  the  business  ;  my 
mother  took  my  part,  in  course,  and  declared  I  acted  rightly, 
as  I  always  did  :  and  I  got  leave  of  absence  from  the  regiment 
in  order  to  press  my  beloved  Magdalen  to  marry  me  out  cf 
hand — knowing,  from  reading  and  experience,  the  extraordi- 
nary mutability  of  human  affairs. 

Besides,  as  the  dear  girl  was  seventeen  years  older  than 
myself,  and  as  bad  in  health  as  she  was  in  temper,  how  was  I 
to  know  that  the  grim  king  of  terrors  might  not  carry  her  off 
before  she  became  mine  "i     With  the  tenderest  warmth,  then, 


75° 


STORIES. 


and  most  delicate  ardor,  I  continued  to  press  my  suit.  The 
happy  day  was  fixed — the  ever  memorable  loth  of  May,  1792. 
The  wedding-clothes  were  ordered  ;  and,  to  make  things  secure, 
I  penned  a  little  paragraph  for  the  county  paper  to  this  effect : 
- — "  Marriage  in  High  Life.  We  understand  that  Ensign 
Stubbs,  of  the  North  Bungay  Fencibles,  and  son  of  Thomas 
Stubbs,  of  Sloffemsquiggle,  Esquire,  is  about  to  lead  to  the 
hymneneal  altar  the  lovely  and  accomplished  daughter  of  Solo- 
mon Crutty,  Esquire,  of  the  same  place.  A  fortune  of  twenty 
thousand  pounds  is,  we  hear,  the  lady's  portion.     *  None  but 

the  brave  deserve  the  fair.' " 

***** 

"  Have  you  informed  your  relatives,  my  beloved  .?  "  said  I 
to  Magdalen  one  day  after  sending  the  above  notice  ;  "  will 
any  of  them  attend  at  your  marriage  ?  " 

"  Uncle  Sam  will,  I  dare  say,"  said  Miss  Crutty,  "  dear 
mamma's  brother." 

"  And  who  zvas  your  dear  mamma  ?  "  said  I  :  for  Miss 
Crutty's  respected  parent  had  been  long  since  dead,  and  I 
never  heard  her  name  mentioned  in  the  family. 

Magdalen  blushed,  and  cast  down  her  eyes  to  the  ground. 
"  Mamma  was  a  foreigner,"  at  last  she  said. 

"  And  of  what  country  1 " 

"  A  German.  Papa  married  her  when  she  was  very  young  : 
• — she  was  not  of  a  very  good  family,"  said  Miss  Crutty,  hesi- 
tating. 

"And  what  care  I  for  family,  my  love  !  "  said  I,  tenderly 
l<issing  the  knuckles  of  the  hand  which  I  held.  "  She  must 
have  been  an  angel  who  gave  birth  to  you." 

"  She  was  a  shoemaker's  daughter." 

"^  German  shoemaker  /  Hang  'em  !  "  thought  I,  "  I  have 
had  enough  of  them  ;  "  and  so  broke  up  this  conversation, 

which  did  not  somehow  please  me. 

***** 

Well,  the  day  was  drawing  near  :  the  clothes  were  ordered  ; 
the  banns  were  read.  My  dear  mamma  had  built  a  cake  about 
the  size  of  a  washing-tub  ;  and  I  was  only  waiting  for  a  week 
to  pass  to  put  me  in  possession  of  twelve  thousand  pounds  in 
the  Five  -per  Cents.,  as  they  were  in  those  days,  heaven  bless 
'em  !  Little  did  I  know  the  storm  that  was  brewing,  and  the 
disappointment  which  was  to  fall  upon  a  young  man  who  really 
did  his  best  to  get  a  fortune. 

TT  *  TT  IP  V 

"  Oh,  Robert !  "  said  my  Magdalen  to  me,  two  days  before 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS.  751 

the  matcli  was  to  come  off,  *'  I  have  such  a  kind  letter  from 
uncle  Sam  in  London.  I  wrote  to  him  as  you  wished.  He 
says  that  he  is  coming  down  to-morrow  ;  that  he  has  heard  of 
you  often,  and  knows  your  character  very  well  ;  and  that  he 
has  got  a  very  /mrtdsotne  present  for  us  !  What  can  it  be,  1 
wonder  V  ■ 

"  Is  he  rich,  my  soul's  adored  ?  "  says  I. 

"  He  is  a  bachelor,  with  a  fine  trade,  and  nobody  to  leave 
his  money  to." 

"  His  present  can't  be  less  than  a  thousand  pounds  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Or  perhaps,  a  silver  tea-set,  and  some  corner-dishes,"  says 
she. 

But  we  could  not  agree  to  this  :  it  was  too  little — too  mean 
for  a  man  of  her  uncle's  wealth  ;  and  we  both  determined  it 
must  be  the  thousand  pounds. 

"  Dear  good  uncle  !  he's  to  be  here  by  the  coach,"  says 
Magdalen.  "  Let  us  ask  a  little  party  to  meet  him."  And  so 
we  did,  and  so  they  came :  my  father  and  mother,  old  Crutty 
in  his  best  wig,  and  the  parson  who  was  to  marry  us  the  next 
day.  The  coach  was  to  come  in  at  six.  And  there  was  the 
tea-table,  and  there  was  the  punch-bowl,  and  everybody  ready 
and  smiling  to  receive  our  dear  uncle  from  London. 

Six  o'clock  came,  and  the  coach,  and  the  man  from  the 
"  Green  Dragon  "  with  a  portmanteau,  and  a  fat  old  gentleman 
walking  behind,  of  whom  I  just  caught  a  glimpse — a  venerable 

old  gentleman  :  I  thought  I'd  seen  him  before. 

******* 

Then  there  was  a  ring  at  the  bell ;  then  a  scuffling  and 
bumping  in  the  passage  :  then  old  Crutty  rushed  out,  and  a 
great  laughing  and  talking,  and  "  How  are  you  ?  "  and  so  on, 
was  heard  at  the  door ;  and  then  the  parlor  door  v/as  flung 
open,  and  Crutty  cried  out  with  a  loud  voice — 

"  Good  people  all !  my  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Stiffelkind  !  " 

Mr.  Stijfelkitid  ! — I  trembled  as  I  heard  the  name  ! 

Miss  Crutty  kissed  him  ;  mamma  made  him  a  curtsey,  and 
papa  made  him  a  bow  ;  and  Dr.  Snorter,  the  parson,  seized  his 
hand  and  shook  it  most  warmly  :  then  came  my  turn ! 

"  Vat !  "  says  he.  "  It  is  my  dear  goot  yong  frend  from 
Doctor  Schvis'hentail's  !  is  dis  de  yong  gentleman's  honorable 
moder  "  (mamma  smiled  and  made  a  curtsey),  "  and  dis  hif 
fader  ?  Sare  and  madam,  you  should  be  broud  of  soch  a  sonn. 
And  3'ou  my  niece,  if  you  have  him  for  a  husband  you  vill  be 
locky,  dat  is  all.  Vat  dink  you,  broder  Crot)'-,  and  Madame 
Stobbs,  I  'ave  made  your  sonn's  boots  !     Ha — ha  !  " 


752 


STORIES. 


My  mamma  laughed,  and  said,  "  I  did  not  know  it,  but  I 
am  sure,  sir,  he  has  as  pretty  a  leg  for  a  boot  as  any  in  the 
whole  county." 

Old  Stiffelkind  roared  louder,  "  A  very  nice  leg,  ma'am, 
and  a  very  sheap  boot  too.  Vat !  did  you  not  know  I  make 
his  boots  ?  Perhaps  you  did  not  know  something  else  too — 
p'raps  you  did  not  know  "  (and  here  the  monster  clapped  his 
hand  on  the  table  and  made  the  punch-ladle  tremble  in  the 
bowl)  — "  p'raps  you  did  not  know  as  dat  yong  man,  dat 
Stobbs,  dat  sneaking,  baltry,  squinting  fellow,  is  as  vicked  as 
he  is  ogly.  He  bot  a  pair  of  boots  from  me  and  never  paid  for 
dem.  Dat  is  noting,  nobody  never  pays  ;  but  he  bought  a  pair 
of  boots,  and  called  himself  Lord  Cornvallis.  And  I  was  fool 
enough  to  believe  him  vonce.  But  look  you,  niece  Magdalen, 
I  'ave  got  five  tousand  pounds  :  if  you  marry  him  I  vill  not  give 
you  a  benny.  But  look  you  what  I  will  gif  you  ;  I  bromised 
you  a  bresent,  and  I  will  give  you  dese  ! " 

And  the  old  monster  produced  those  very  boots  which 

Swishtail  had  made  him  take  back. 

******* 

I  didn't  marry  Miss  Crutty  :  I  am  not  sony  for  it  though. 
She  was  a  nasty,  ugly,  ill-tempered  wretch,  and  I've  always  said 
so  ever  since. 

And  all  this  rose  from  these  infernal  boots,  and  that  unlucky 
paragraph  in  the  county  paper — I'll  tell  you  how. 

In  the  first  place,  it  was  taken  up  as  a  quiz  by  one  of  the 
wicked,  profligate,  unprincipled  organs  of  the  London  press, 
who  chose  to  be  very  facetious  about  the  "  Marriage  in  High 
Life/'  and  made  all  sorts  of  jokes  about  me  and  my  dear  Miss 
Crutty. 

Secondly,  it  was  read  in  this  London  paper  by  my  mortal 
enemy.  Bunting,  Avho  had  been  introduced  to  old  Stiffelkind's 
acquaintance  by  my  adventure  with  him,  and  had  his  shoes 
made  regularly  by  that  foreign  upstart. 

Thirdly,  he  happened  to  want  a  pair  of  shoes  mended  at  this 
particular  period,  and  as  he  was  measured  by  the  disgusting 
old  High-Dutch  cobbler,  he  told  him  his  old  friend  Stubbs  was 
going  to  be  married. 

"  And  to  whom  ?  "  said  old  Stiffelkind.  "  To  a  voman  wit 
gold,  I  vill  take  my  oath," 

"  Yes,"  says  Bunting,  "  a  country  girl — a  Miss  Magdalen 
Carotty  or  Crott}',  at  a  place  called  Sloffemsquiggle." 

SchloffcmscJnvicgd  l''  bursts  out  the  dreadful  bootmaker. 
"  Mein  Gott,  mein  Gott !  das  geht  nicht  !     I  tell  you,  sare,  it  is 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


753 


no  go.  Miss  Crotty  is  my  niece.  I  vill  go  down  myself.  I 
vill  never  let  her  marry  dat  goot-for-nothing  schwindler  and 
tief."  Such  was  the  language  that  the  scoundrel  ventured  to 
use  resiardinsf  me  ! 


JUNE.— MARROWBONES  AND  CLEAVERS. 

Was  there  ever  such  confounded  ill-luck.''  'My  whole  life 
has  been  a  tissue  of  ill-luck  :  although  I  have  labored  perhaps 
harder  than  any  man  to  make  a  fortune,  something  always 
tumbled  it  down.  In  love  and  in  war  I  was  not  like  others. 
In  my  marriages,  I  had  an  eye  to  the  main  chance  ;  and  you 
see  how  some  unlucky  blow  would  come  and  throw  them  over. 
In  the  army  I  was  just  as  prudent,  and  just  as  unfortunate. 
What  with  judicious  betting,  and  horse-swopping,  good-luck  at 
billiards,  and  economy,  I  do  believe  I  put  by  my  pay  every 
year, — and  that  is  what  few  can  say  who  have  but  an  allowance 
of  a  hundred  a  year. 

I'll  tell  you  how  it  was.  I  used  to  be  very  kind  to  the 
young  men  ;  I  chose  their  horses  for  them,  and  their  wine  :  and 
showed  them  how  to  play  billiards,  or  ecarte,  of  long  mornings, 
when  there  was  nothing  better  to  do.  I  didn't  cheat :  I'd 
rather  die  than  cheat ; — but  if  fellows  will  play,  I  wasn't  the 
man  to  say  no — why  should  I  ?  There  was  one  young  chap  in 
our  regiment  of  whom  I  really  think  I  cleared  300/.  a  year. 

His  name  was  Dobble.  He  was  a  tailor's  son,  and  wanted 
to  be  a  gentleman.  A  poor  weak  young  creature  ;  easy  to  be 
made  tipsy ;  easy  to  be  cheated ;  and  easy  to  be  frightened. 
It  was  a  blessing  for  him  that  I  found  him  ;  for  if  anybody 
else  had,  they  would  have  plucked  him  of  every  shilling. 

Ensign  Dobble  and  I  were  sworn  friends.  I  rode  his  horses 
for  him,  and  chose  his  champagne,  and  did  everything,  in  fact, 
that  a  superior  mind  does  for  an  inferior, — when  the  inferior 
has  got  the  money.  We  were  inseparables, — hunting  every- 
where in  couples.  We  even  managed  to  fall  in  love  with  two 
sisters,  as  young  soldiers  will  do,  you  know  j  for  the  dogs  fall 
in  love,  with  every  change  of  quarters. 

Well,  once,  in  the  year  1793  (it  was  just  when  the  French 
had  chopped  poor  Louis's  head  off),  Dobble  and  I,  gay  young 
chaps  as  ever  wore  sword  by  side,  had  cast  our  eyes  upon  two 
young  ladies  by  the  name  of  Brisket,  daughters  of  a  butcher  ia 


754 


STORIES. 


the  town  where  we  were  quartered.  The  dear  girls  fell  in  love 
with  us,  of  course.  And  many  a  pleasant  walk  in  the  country, 
many  a  treat  to  a  tea-garden,  many  a  smart  ribbon  and  brooch 
used  Dobble  and  I  (for  his  father  allowed  him  600/.,  and  our 
purses  were  in  common)  present  to  these  young  ladies.  One 
day,  fancy  our  pleasure  at  receiving  a  note  couched  thus  : — 

"Deer  Capting  Stubbs  and  Dobble  —  Miss  Briskets  pre- 
sents their  compliments,  and  as  it  is  probble  that  our  papa  will 
be  till  twelve  at  the  corprayshun  dinner,  we  request  the  pleasure 
of  their  company  to  tea." 

Didn't  we  go  !  Punctually  at  six  we  were  in  the  little  back 
parlor ;  we  quaffed  more  Bohea,  and  made  more  love,  than 
half  a  dozen  ordinary  men  could.  At  nine,  a  little  punch-bowl 
succeeded  to  the  little  teapot ;  and,  bless  the  girls  !  a  nice 
fresh  steak  was  frizzling  on  the  gridiron  for  our  supper. 
Butchers  were  butchers  then,  and  their  parlor  was  their  kitchen 
too;  at  least  old  Brisket's  was — one  door  leading  into  the 
shop,  and  one  into  the  yard,  on  the  other  side  of  which  was 
the  slaughter-house. 

F,ancy,  then,  our  horror  when,  just  at  this  critical  time,  we 
heard  the  shop  door  open,  a  heavy  staggering  step  on  the  flags, 
and  a  loud  husky  voice  from  the  shop,  shouting,  "  Hallo, 
Susan  ;  hallo,  Betsy  !  show  a  light !  "  Dobble  turned  as  white 
as  a  sheet ;  the  two  girls  each  as  red  as  a  lobster  ;  I  alone  pre- 
served my  presence  of  mind.  "The  backdoor,"  says  I. — ■ 
"The  dog's  in  the  court,"  say  they.  "  He's  not  so  bad  as  the 
man,"  said  I.  "  Stop  !  "  cries  Susan,  flinging  open  the  door, 
and  rushing  to  the  fire.  "  Take  ihis  and  perhaps  it  will  quiet 
him." 

What  do  you  think  "  this  "  was  ?  I'm  blest  if  it  was  not 
the  steak  ? 

She  pushed  us  out,  patted  and  hushed  the  dog,  and  was  in 
again  in  a  minute.  The  moon  was  shining  on  the  court,  and 
on  the  slaughter-house,  where  there  hung  the  white  ghastly- 
looking  carcases  of  a  couple  of  sheep  ;  a  great  gutter  ran  down 
the  court — a  gutter  of  blood  !  The  dog  was  devouring  his  beef- 
steak {pur  beefsteak)  in  silence  ;  and  we  could  see  through  the 
little  window  the  girls  bustling  about  to  pack  up  the  supper- 
things,  and  presently  the  shop  door  being  opened,  old  Brisket 
entering,  staggering,  angry,  and  drunk.  What's  more,  we 
could  see,  perched  on  a  high  stool,  and  nodding  politely,  as  if 
to  salute  old  Brisket,  the  feather  of  Dobble' s  cocked  hat  I    When 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


753 


Dobble  saw  it,  he  turned  white,  and  deadly  sick  ;  and  the  poor 
fellow,  in  an  agony  of  fright,  sunk  shivering  down  upon  one  of 
the  butcher's  cutting-blocks,  which  was  in  the  yard. 

We  saw  old  Brisket  look  steadily  (as  steadily  as  he  could) 
at  the  confounded,  impudent,  pert,  waggling  feather;  and 
then  an  idea  began  to  dawn  upon  his  mind,  that,  there  was  a 
head  to  the  hat ;  and  then  he  slowly  rose  up — he  was  a  man  of 
six  feet,  and  fifteen  stone — he  rose  up,  put  on  his  apron  and 
sleeves,  and  took  down  his  cleaver. 

"Betsy,"  says  he,  "open  the  yard  door."  But  the  poor 
girls  screamed,  and  flung  on  their  knees,  and  begged,  and 
wept,  and  did  their  very  best  to  prevent  him.  "  Open  the 
Yard  Door  ! "  says  he,  with  a  thundering  loud  voice  ;  and 
the  great  bull-dog,  hearing  it,  started  up  and  uttered  a  yell 
which  sent  me  flying  to  the  other  end  of  the  court. — Dobble 
couldn't  move  ;  he  was  sitting  on  the  block,  blubbering  like  a 
baby. 

The  door  opened,  and  out  Mr.  Brisket  came. 

'■'■  To  him  yowler!'"  says  he.  '•'' Keep  him  yowler!  " — and 
the  horrid  dog  flew  at  me,  and  I  flew  back  into  the  corner,  and 
drew  my  sword,  determining  to  sell  my  life  dearly. 

"  That's  it,"  says  Brisket.  "Keep  him  there, — good  dog, 
— good  dog  !  And  now,  sir,"  says  he,  turning  round  to  Dobble, 
"  is  this  your  hat  ?  "  ■,,.  •■ ,  . 

"  Yes,"  says  Dobble,  fit  to  choke  with  fright.    '"^^  ' 

"Well,  then,"  says  Brisket,  "it's  my  —  (hie) — my  painful 
duty  to — (hie) — to  tell  you,  that  as  I've  got  your  hat,  I  must 
have  your  head  ;  it's  painful,  but  it  must  be  done.  You'd  better 
— (hie) — settle  yourself  com — comfumarably  against  that — (hie) 
' — that  block,  and  I'll  chop  it  off  before  you  can  say  Jack— 
(hie) — no,  I  mean  Jack  Robinson." 

Dobble  went  down  on  his  knees  and  shrieked  out,  I'm  an 
only  son,  Mr.  Brisket !  I'll  marry  her,  sir  ;  I  will,  upon  my 
honor,  sir. — Consider  my  mother,  sir  ;  consider  my  mother," 

"  That's  it,  sir,"  says  Brisket — "that's  a  good — (hie) — a  good 
boy; — just  put  your  head  down  quietly — and  I'll  have  it  off- 
yes,  off — as  if  you  were  Louis  the  Six — the  Sixtix — the  Sik- 
tickleteenth. — I'll  chop  the  o\\\^x  chap  afienoards.'" 

When  I  heard  this,  I  made  a  sudden  bound  back,  and  gave 
such  a  cry  as  any  man  might  who  was  in  such  a  way.  The 
ferocious  Jowler,  thinking  I  was  going  to  escape,  flew  at  my 
throat ;  screaming  furious,  I  flung  out  my  arms  in  a  kind  of 
desperation, — and,  to  my  wonder,  down  fell  the  dog,  dead,  and 
run  through  the  body  I 


756  STORIES. 

******* 

At  this  moment  a  posse  of  people  rushed  in  upon  old 
Brisket, — one  of  his  daughters  had  had  the  sense  to  summon 
them, — and  Bobbie's  head  was  saved.  And  when  they  saw 
the  dog  lying  dead  at  my  feet,  my  ghastly  look,  my  bloody 
sword,  they  gave  me  no  small  credit  for  my  bravery.  "A 
terrible  fellow  that  Stubbs,"  said  they ;  and  so  the  mess  said, 
the  next  day, 

I  didn't  tell  them  that  the  dog  had  committed  suicide — why 
should  I  ?  And  I  didn't  sav  a  word  about  Bobbie's  cowardice, 
I  said  he  was  a  brave  fellow,  and  fought  like  a  tiger  ;  and  this 
prevented  hi?7i  from  telling  tales.  I  had  the  dogskin  made 
into  a  pair  of  pistol-holsters,  and  looked  so  fierce,  and  got  such 
a  name  for  courage  in  our  regiment,  that  when  we  had  to  meet 
the  regulars,  Bob  Stubbs  was  always  the  man  put  forward  to 
support  the  honor  of  the  corps.  The  women,  you  know,  adore 
courage  ;  and  such  was  my  reputation  at  this  time,  that  I  might 
have  had  my  pick  out  of  half  a  dozen,  with  three,  four,  or  five 
thousand  pounds  apiece,  who  were  dying  for  love  of  me  and 
my  red  coat.  But  I  wasn't  such  a  fool,  I  had  been  twice  on 
the  point  of  marriage,  and  twice  disappointed  ;  and  I  vowed 
by  all  the  Saints  to  have  a  wife,  and  a  rich  one,  Bepend  upon 
this,  as  an  infallible  maxim  to  guide  you  through  life  :  Ifs  as 
easy  to  get  a  rich  7vife  as  a  poor  one ; — the  same  bait  that  will 
hook  a  fly  will  hook  a  salmon. 


JULY.— SUMMARY  PROCEEDINGS. 

Bobble's  reputation  for  courage  was  not  increased  by  the 
butcher's-dog  adventure ;  but  mine  stood  very  high  :  little 
Stubbs  was  voted  the  boldest  chap  of  all  the  bold  North  Bun- 
gays.  And  though  I  must  confess,  what  was  proved  by  sub- 
sequent circumstances,  that  nature  has  not  endowed  me  with  a 
large,  or  even,  I  may  say,  an  average  share  of  bravery,  yet  a 
man  is  very  willing  to  flatter  himself  to  the  contrary  ;  and,  after 
a  little  time,  I  got  to  believe  that  my  killing  the  dog  was  an 
action  of  undaunted  courage,  and  that  I  was  as  gallant  as  any 
of  the  one  hundred  thousand  heroes  of  our  army,  I  always 
had  a  military  taste — it's  only  the  brutal  part  of  the  profession, 
the  horrid  fighting  and  blood,  that  I  don't  like, 

I  suppose  the  regiment  was  not  very  brave   itself — being 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


757 


only  militia  ;  but  certain  it  was,  that  Stubbs  was  considered  a 
most  terrible  fellow,  and  I  swore  so  much,  and  looked  so  fierce, 
that  you  would  have  fancied  I  had  made  half  a  hundred  cam- 
paigns. I  was  second  in  several  duels :  the  umpire  in  all  dis- 
putes ;  and  such  a  crack-shot  myself,  that  fellows  were  shy  of 
insulting  me.  As  for  Dobble,  I  took  him  under  my  protection  ; 
and  he  became  so  attached  to  me,  that  we  ate,  drank,  and  rode 
together  every  day ;  his  father  didn't  care  for  money,  so  long 
as  his  son  was  in  good  company — and  what  so  good  as  that  of 
the  celebrated  Stubbs  ?  Heigho  !  I  was  good  company  in  those 
days,  and  a  brave  fellow  too,  as  I  should  have  remained,  but 
for — what  I  shall  tell  the  public  immediately. 

It  happened,  in  the  fatal  year  ninety-six,  that  the  brave 
North  Bungays  were  quartered  at  Portsmouth,  a  maritime  place, 
which  I  need  not  describe,  and  which  I  wish  I  had  never  seen. 
I  might  have  been  a  General  now,  or,  at  least,  a  rich  man. 

The  red-coats  carried  everything  before  them  in  those  days  ; 
and  I,  such  a  crack  character  as  I  was  in  my  regiment,  was  very 
well  received  by  the  townspeople  :  many  dinners  I  had  ;  many 
tea-parties  ;  many  lovely  young  ladies  did  I  lead  down  the 
pleasant  country-dances. 

Well,  although  I  had  had  the  two  former  rebuffs  in  love 
which  I  have  described,  my  heart  was  still  young ;  and  the  fact 
was,  knowing  that  a  girl  with  a  fortune  was  my  only  chance,  I 
made  love  here  as  furiously  as  ever.  I  sha'n't  describe  the 
lovely  creatures  on  whom  I  fixed,  whilst  at  Portsmouth.  I  tried 
more  than — several — and  it  is  a  singular  fact,  which  I  never 
have  been  able  to  account  for,  that,  successful  as  I  was  with 
ladies  of  maturer  age,  by  the  young  ones  I  was  refused  regular. 

But  "faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady  ;"  and  so  I  went  on, 
and  on,  until  I  had  got  a  Miss  Clopper,  a  tolerably  rich  navy- 
contractor's  daughter,  into  such  away,  that  I  really  don't  think 
she  could  have  refused  me.  Her  brother,  Captain  Clopper,  was 
in  a  line  regiment,  and  helped  me  as  much  as  ever  he  could  :  he 
swore  I  was  such  a  brave  fellow. 

As  I  had  received  a  number  of  attentions  from  Clopper,  I 
determined  to  invite  him  to  dinner ;  which  I  could  do  without 
any  sacrifice  of  my  principle  upon  this  point :  for  the  fact  is, 
Dobble  lived  at  an  inn,  and  as  he  sent  all  his  bills  to  his  father, 
I  made  no  scruple  to  use  his  table.  We  dined  in  the  coffee- 
room,  Dobble  bringing  his  friend  ;  and  so  we  made  a  party 
carry^  as  the  French  say.  Some  naval  officers  were  occupied 
in  a  similar  way  at  a  table  next  to  ours. 

Well — I  didn't  spare  the  bottle,  either  for  myself  or  for  my 


7^8  STORIES. 

friends  ;  and  we  grew  very  talkative,  and  very  affectionate  as 
the  drinking  went  on.  Each  man  told  stories  of  his  gallantry 
in  the  field,  or  amongst  the  ladies,  as  officers  will,  after  dinner, 
Clopper  confided  to  the  company  his  wish  that  I  should  marry 
his  sister,  and  vowed  that  he  thought  me  the  best  fellow  in 
Christendom, 

Ensign  Dobble  assented  to  this.  *'  But  let  Miss  Clopper 
beware,"  says  he,  "  for  Stubbs  is  a  sad  fellow  :  he  has  had  I 
don't  know  how  mzny  liaisons  already ;  and  he  has  been  engaged 
to  I  don't  know  how  many  women," 

"  Indeed  !  "  says  Clopper.  "  Come,  Stubbs,  tell  us  your 
adventures." 

"Psha!  "  said  I,  modestly,  "there  is  nothing,  indeed,  to  tell. 
I  have  been  in  love,  my  dear  boy — who  has  not  ? — and  I  have 
been  jilted — who  has  not }  " 

Clopper  swore  that  he  would  blow  his  sister's  brains  out  if 
ever  she  served  me  so. 

"Tell  him  about  Miss  Crutty,"  said  Dobble.  "He!  he! 
Stubbs  served  that  woman  out,  anyhow  ;  she  didn't  jilt  him,  I'll 
be  sworn." 

"Really,  Dobble,  you  are  too  bad,  and  should  not  mention 
names.  The  fact  is,  the  girl  was  desperately  in  love  with  me, 
and  had  money — sixty  thousand  pounds,  upon  my  reputation. 
Well,  everything  was  arranged,  when  who  should  come  down 
from  London  but  a  relation." 

"  Well,  and  did  he  prevent  the  match  ? " 

"  Prevent  it — yes,  sir,  I  believe  you  he  did  ;  though  not  in 
the  sense  that  you  mean.  He  would  have  given  his  eyes — ay, 
and  ten  thousand  pounds  more — if  I  would  have  accepted  the 
girl,  but  I  would  not." 

"  Why,  in  the  name  of  goodness  ? " 

"  Sir,  her  uncle  was  a  shoemaker.  I  never  would  debase 
myself  by  marrying  into  such  a  family." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Dobble;  "he  couldn't,  you  know. 
Well,  now — tell  him  about  the  other  girl,  Mary  Waters,  you 
know." 

"  Hush,  Dobble,  hush  I  don't  you  see  one  of  those  naval 
officers  has  turned  round  and  heard  you .''  My  dear  Clopper,  it 
was  a  mere  childish  bagatelle." 

'•Well,  but  let's  have  it,"  said  Clopper — "let's  have  it.  I 
won't  tell  my  sister,  you  know."  And  he  put  his  hand  to  his 
nose  and  looked  monstrous  wise. 

"  Nothing  of  that  sort,  Clopper — no,  no — 'pon  honor — lit- 
tle Bob  Stubbs  is  no  libertine;  and  the   story  is  very  simple 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


759 


You  see  that  my  father  has  a  small  place,  merely  a  few  hundred 
acres,  at  Sloffemsquiggle.  Isn't  it  a  funny  name  ?  Hang  it, 
there's  the  naval  gentleman  staring  again  " — (I  looked  terribly 
fierce  as  I  returned  this  officer's  stare,  and  continued  in  a  loud 
careless  voice).  Well,  at  this  Sloffemsquiggle  there  lived  a 
girl,  a  Miss  Waters,  the  niece  of  some  blackguard  apothecary 
in  the  neighborhood  ;  but  my  mother  took  a  fancy  to  the  girl, 
and  had  her  up  to  the  park  and  petted  her.  We  were  both 
young — and — and — the  girl  fell  in  love  with  me,  that's  the  fact. 
I  was  obliged  to  repel  some  rather  warm  advances  that  she 
made  me ;  and  here,  upon  my  honor  as  a  gentleman,  you  have 
all  the  story  about  which  that  silly  Dobble  makes  such  a 
noise." 

Just  as  I  finished  this  sentence,  I  found  myself  suddenly 
taken  by  the  nose,  and  a  voice  shouting  out, — 

"  Mr.  Stubbs,  you  are  a  Liar  and  a  Scoundrel  !  Take 
this,  sir, — and  this,  for  daring  to  meddle  with  the  name  of  an 
innocent  lady." 

I  turned  round  as  well  as  I  could — for  the  ruffian  had  pulled 
me  out  of  my  chair — and  beheld  a  great  marine  monster,  six  feet 
high,  who  was  occupied  in  beating  and  kicking  me,  in  the  most 
ungentlemanly  manner,  on  my  cheeks,  my  ribs,  and  between  the 
tails  of  my  coat.  "  He  is  a  liar,  gentlemen,  and  a  scoundrel ! 
The  bootmaker  had  detected  him  in  swindling,  and  so  his 
niece  refused  him.  Miss  Waters  was  engaged  to  him  from 
childhood,  and  he  deserted  her  for  the  bootmaker's  niece, 
who  was  richer." — And  then  sticking  a  card  between  my  stock 
and  my  coat-collar,  in  what  is  called  the  scruff  of  my  neck,  the 
disgusting  brute  gave  me  another  blow  behind  my  back,  and 
left  the  coffee-room  with  his  friends. 

Dobble  raised  me  up  ;  and  taking  the  card  from  my  neck, 
read.  Captain  Waters.  Clopper  poured  me  out  a  glass  of 
water,  and  said  in  my  ear,  "  If  this  is  true,  you  are  an  infernal 
scoundrel,  Stubbs  ;  and  irmst  fight  me,  after  Captain  Waters  ; " 
and  he  flounced  out  of  the  room. 

I  had  but  one  course  to  pursue.  I  sent  the  Captain  a  short 
and  contemptuous  note,  saying  that  he  was  beneath  my  anger. 
As  for  Clopper,  I  did  not  condescend  to  notice  his  remark ; 
but  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the  troublesome  society  of  these  low 
blackguards,  I  determined  to  gratify  an  inclination  I  had  long 
entertained,  and  make  a  little  tour.  I  applied  for  leave  of 
absence,  and  set  off  that  very  night.  I  can  fancy  the  disap- 
pointment of  the  brutal  Waters,  on  coming,  as  he  did,  the  next 
morning  to  my  quarters  and  finding  me  gone.     Ha  !  ha  ! 


76o 


STORIES. 


After  this  adventure  I  became  sick  of  a  military  life — at 
least  the  life  of  my  own  regiment,  where  the  officers,  such 
was  their  unaccountable  meanness  and  prejudice  against  me, 
absolutely  refused  to  see  me  at  mess.  Colonel  Craw  sent  me 
a  letter  to  this  eiTect,  which  I  treated  as  it  deserved. — I 
never  once  alluded  to  it  in  any  way,  and  have  since  never 
spoken  a  single  word  to  any  man  in  the  North  Bungays. 


AUGUST.— DOGS  HAVE  THEIR  DAYS. 

See,  now,  what  life  is  !  I  have  had  ill-luck  on  ill-luck  from 
that  day  to  this.  I  have  sunk  in  the  world,  and,  instead  of 
riding  my  horse  and  drinking  my  wine,  as  a  real  gentleman 
should,  have  hardly  enough  now  to  buy  a  pint  of  ale  ;  ay,  and 
am  very  glad  when  anybody  will  treat  me  to  one.  Why,  why 
was  I  born  to  undergo  such  unmerited  misfortunes .'' 

You  must  know  that  very  soon  after  my  adventure  with 
Miss  Crutty,  and  that  cowardly  ruffian,  Captain  Waters  (he 
sailed  the  day  after  his  insult  to  me,  or  I  should  most  certainly 
have  blown  his  brains  out ;  7ww  he  is  living  in  England,  and  is  my 
relation  ;  but,  of  course,  I  cut  the  fellow) — very  soon  after  these 
painful  events  another  happened,  which  ended,  too,  in  a  sad 
disappointment.  My  dear  papa  died,  and  instead  of  leaving 
five  thousand  pounds,  as  I  expected  at  the  very  least,  left  only 
his  estate,  which  was  worth  but  two.  The  land  and  house  were 
left  to  me  ;  to  mamma  and  my  sisters  he  left,  to  be  sure,  a  sum 
of  two  thousand  pounds  in  the  hands  of  that  eminent  firm 
Messrs.  Pump,  Aldgate  and  Co.,  which  failed  within  six  months 
after  his  demise,  and  paid  in  five  years  about  one  shilling  and 
ninepence  in  the  pound  ;  which  really  was  all  my  dear  mother 
and  sisters  had  to  live  upon. 

The  poor  creatures  were  quite  unused  to  money  matters  ; 
and  would  you  believe  it  ?  when  the  news  came  of  Pump  and 
Aldgate's  failure,  mamma  only  smiled,  and  threw  her  eyes  up 
to  heaven,  and  said,  "  Blessed  be  God,  that  we  have  still  where- 
withal to  live.  There  are  tens  of  thousands  in  this  world,  dear 
children,  who  would  count  our  poverty  riches."  And  with  this 
she  kissed  my  two  sisters,  who  began  to  blubber,  as  girls 
always  will  do,  and  threw  their  arms  round  her  neck,  and  then 
round  my  neck,  until  I  was  half  stifled  with  their  embraces, 
and  slobbered  all  over  with  their  tears. 


TFTE  FATAL  HOOTS.  y6l 

"Dearest  mamma,"  said  I,  "I  am  very  glad  to  see  th« 
noble  manner  in  which  )'ou  bear  your  loss ;  and  more  still  to 
know  that  you  are  so  rich  as  to  be  able  to  put  up  with  it." 
The  fact  was,  I  really  thought  the  old  lady  had  got  a  private 
hoard  of  her  own,  as  many  of  them  have — a  thousand  pounds 
or  so  in  a  stocking.  Had  she  put  by  thirty  pounds  a  year,  as 
well  she  might,  for  the  thirty  years  of  her  marriage,  there 
would  have  been  nine  hundred  pounds  clear,  and  no  mistake. 
But  still  I  was  angry  to  think  that  any  such  paltry  conceal- 
ment had  been  practised — concealment  too  of  my  money  ;  so 
I  turned  on  her  pretty  sharply,  and  continued  my  speech. 
''You  say,  ma'am,  that  you  are  rich,  and  that  Pump  and  Aid-- 
gate's  failure  has  no  effect  upon  you.  I  am  very  happy  to 
hear  you  say  so,  Ma'am — very  happy  that  you  are  rich.  ;  and  I 
should  like  to  know  where  your  property,  my  father's  property, 
for  you  had  none  of  your  own, — I  should  like  to  know  where 
this  money  lies — where  you  have  concealed  it,  Ma'am  ;  and  per- 
mit me  to  say,  that  when  I  agreed  to  board  you  and  my  two 
sisters  for  eighty  pounds  a  year,  I  did  not  know  that  you  had 
f///^r  resources  than  those  mentioned  in  blessed  father's  will." 

This  I  said  to  her  because  I  hated  the  meanness  of  conceal- 
ment, not  because  I  lost  by  the  bargain  of  boarding  them :  for 
the  three  poor  things  did  not  eat  much  more  than  sparrows ; 
and  I've  often  since  calculated  that  I  had  a  clear  twenty 
pounds  a  year  profit  out  of  them. 

Mamma  and  the  girls  looked  quite  astonished  when  I  made 
the  speech.     "  What  does  he  mean  .?  "  said  Lucy  to  Eliza. 

Mamma  repeated  the  question.  "  My  beloved  Robert, 
what  concealment  are  you  talking  of  ?  " 

"I  am  talking  of  concealed  property.  Ma'am,"  says  I 
sternly. 

"And  do  you — what — can  you — do  you  really  suppose  that 
I  have  concealed — any  of  that  blessed  sa-a-a-aint's  prop-op-op- 
operty  ?  "  screams  out  mamma.  "  Robert,"  says  she — "  Bob, 
my  own  darling  boy — my  fondest,  best  beloved,  now  he  is  gone  " 
(meaning  my  late  governor — more  tears) — "you  don't,  you  can- 
not fancy  that  your  own  mother,  who  bore  you,  and  nursed 
you,and  wept  for  you,  and  would  give  her  all  to  save  you  from 
a  moment's  harm — you  don't  suppose  that  she  would  che-e-e- 
eat  you  !  "  And  here  she  gave  a  louder  screech  than  ever,  and 
flung  back  on  tRe  sofa ;  and  one  of  my  sisters  went  and 
tumbled  into  her  arms,  and  t'other  went  round,  and  the  kiss- 
ing an  slobbering  scene  went  on  again,  only  I  was  left  out, 
thank  goodness.     I  hate  such  sentimentality. 


762 


STORIES. 


"  Che-e-e-eat  me"  says  I,  mocking  her.  "  What  do  you 
mean,  then,  by  saying  you're  so  rich  ?  Say,  have  you  got 
money,  or  have  you  not  ?  "  (And  1  rapped  out  a  good  number 
of  oaths,  too,  which  I  don't  put  in  here  \  but  I  was  in  a  dread- 
ful fury,  that's  the  fact.) 

"  So  help  me  heaven,"  says  mamma,  in  answer,  going  down 
on  her  knees  and  smacking  her  two  hands,  "  I  have  but  a 
Queen  Anne's  guinea  in  the  whole  of  this  wicked  world." 

"  Then  what,  Madam,  induces  you  to  tell  these  absurd 
stories  to  me,  and  to  talk  about  your  riches,  when  you  know 
that  you  and  your  daughters  are  beggars.  Ma'am — beggars  ?  " 

"  My  dearest  boy,  have  we  not  got  the  house,  and  the  furni- 
ture, and  a  hundred  a  year  still  :  and  have  you  not  great  talents, 
which  will  make  all  our  fortunes  ?  "  says  Mrs.  Stubbs,  getting 
up  off  her  knees,  and  making  believe  to  smile  as  she  clawed 
hold  of  my  hand  and  kissed  it. 

This  was  too  cool.  "  You  have  got  a  hundred  a  year, 
Ma'am,"  says  I — "you  have  got  a  house?  Upon  my  soul  and 
honor  this  is  the  first  I  ever  heard  of  it ;  and  I'll  tell  you  what, 
Ma'am,"  says  I  (and  it  cut  h&x preity  sharply  \.o6)  :  "  As  you've 
got  \t,  you'd /setter  £0  a7id  live  in  it.  I've  got  quite  enough  to 
do  with  my  own  house,  and  every  penny  of  my  own  income." 

Upon  this  speech  the  old  lady  said  nothing,  but  she  gave  a 
screech  loud  enough  to  be  heard  from  here  to  York,  and  down 
she  fell — kicking  and  strugglins:  in  a  regular  fit. 


*  *  *  * 


I  did  not  see  Mrs.  Stubbs  for  some  days  after  this,  and  the 
girls  used  to  come  down  to  meals,  and  never  speak  ;  going  ujd 
again  and  stopping  with  their  mother.  At  last,  one  day,  both 
of  them  came  in  very  solemn  to  my  study,  and  Eliza,  the 
eldest,  said,  "  Robert,  mamma  has  paid  you  our  board  up  to 
Michaelmas." 

"  She  has,"  says  I ;  for  I  always  took  precious  good  care 
to  have  it  in  advance. 

"  She  says,  Robert,  that  on  Michaelmas  day — we'll — we'll 
go  away,  Robert." 

"  Oh,  she's  going  to  her  own  house,  is  she,  Lizzy  .''  Very 
good.  She'll  want  the  furniture,  I  suppose,  and  that  she  may 
have  too,  for  I'm  going  to  sell  the  place  myself."  And  so  that 

matter  was  settled. 

*  *  *  *      •  * 

On  Michaelmas  day — and  during  these  two  months  I  hadn't, 
I  do  believe,  seen  my  mother  twice  (once,  about  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  I  woke  and  found  her  sobbing  over  my  bed) — on 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS.  763 

Michaelmas-day  morning,  Eliza  comes  to  me  and  says,  "  Robert 
they  will  come  and  fetch  us  at  six  this  evenitigj'  Well,  as  this  was 
the  last  day,  I  went  and  got  the  best  goose  I  could  find  (I 
don't  think  I  ever  saw  a  primer,  or  ate  more  hearty  myself), 
and  had  it  roasted  at  three,  with  a  good  pudding  afterwards ; 
and  a  glorious  bowl  of  punch.  "  Here's  a  health  to  you,  dear 
girls,"  says  I,  "  and  you.  Ma,  and  good  luck  to  all  three ;  and 
as  you've  not  eaten  a  morsel,  I  hope  you  won't  object  to  a  glass 
of  punch.  It's  the  old  stuff,  you  know,  Ma'am,  that  Waters 
sent  to  my  father  fifteen  years  ago." 

Six  o'clock  came,  and  with  it  came  a  fine  barouche.  As  I 
live,  Captain  Waters  was  on  the  .box  (it  was  his  coach)  ;  that 
old  thief.  Bates,  jumped  out,  entered  my  house,  and  before  I 
could  say  Jack  Robinson,  whipped  off  mamma  to  the  carriage  : 
the  girls  followed,  just  giving  me  a  hasty  shake  of  the  hand; 
and  as  mamma  was  helped  in,  Mary  Waters,  who  was  sitting 
inside,  flung  her  arms  round  her,  and  the  girls  ;  and  the  Doc- 
tor, who  acted  footman,  jumped  on  the  box,  and  off  they  went ; 
taking  no  more  notice  of  fue  than  if  I'd  been  a  nonentity. 

Here's  a  picture  of  the  whole  business  : — Mamma  and 
Miss  Waters  are  sitting  kissing  each  other  in  the  carriage, 
witli  the  two  girls  in  the  back  seat ;  Waters  is  driving  (a  pre- 
cious bad  driver  he  is  too)  ;  and  I'm  standing  at  the  garden 
door,  and  whistling.  That  old  fool  Mary  Malowney  is  crying 
behind  the  garden  gate  :  she  went  off  next  day  along  with  the 
furniture;  and  I  to  get  into  that  precious  scrape  which  I  shall 
mention  next. 


SEPTEMBER.— PLUCKING   A   GOOSE. 

After  my  papa's  death,  as  he  left  me  no  money,  and  only 
a  little  land,  I  put  my  estate  into  an  auctioneer's  hands,  and 
determined  to  amuse  my  solitude  with  a  trip  to  some  of  our 
fashionable  watering  places.  My  house  was  now  a  desert  to 
me.  I  need  not  say  how  the  departure  of  my  dear  parent,  and 
her  children,  left  me  sad  and  lonely. 

Well,  I  had  a  little  ready  money,  and,  for  the  estate,  ex- 
pected a  couple  of  thousand  pounds.  I  had  a  good  military- 
looking  person  :  for  though  I  had  absolutely  cut  the  old  North 
Bungays  (indeed,  after  my  affair  with  Waters,  Colonel  Craw 
hinted  to  me,  in  the  most  friendly  manner,  that  I  had  better 
resign) — though  1  had  left   the  army,  I  still  retained  the  rank 

49 


764  STORIES. 

of  Captain  ;  knowing  the  advantages  attendant  upon  that  title 
in  a  watering-place  tour. 

Captain  Stubbs  became  a  great  dandy  at  Cheltenham, 
Harrogate,  Bath,  Leamington,  and  other  places.  I  was  a  good 
whist  and  billiard  player  ;  so  much  so,  that  in  many  of  these 
towns,  the  people  used  to  refuse,  at  last,  to  play  with  me, 
knowing  how  far  I  was  their  superior.  Fancy  my  surprise, 
about  five  years  after  the  Portsmouth  affair,  when  strolling  one 
day  up  the  High  Street,  in  Leamington,  my  eyes  lighted  upon 
a  young  man,  whom  I  remembered  in  a  certain  butcher's  yard, 
and  elsewhere — no  other,  in  fact,  than  Dobble.  He,  too,  was 
dressed  eii  inilitaitc,  with  a  ffogged  coat  and  spurs ;  and  was 
walking  with  a  showy-looking,  Jewish-faced,  black-haired  lady, 
glittering  with  chains  and  rings,  with  a  green  bonnet  and  a 
bird  of  Paradise — a  lilac  shawl,  a  yellow  gown,  pink  silk  stock- 
ings, and  light-blue  shoes.'  Three  children,  and  a  handsome 
footman,  were  walking  behind  her,  and  the  party,  not  seeing 
me,  entered  the  "  Royal  Hotel  "  together. 

I  was  known  myself  at  the  "Royal,"  and  calling  one  of  the 
waiters,  learned  the  names  of  the  lady  and  gentleman.  He 
was  Captain  Dobble,  the  son  of  the  rich  army-clothier,  Dobble 
(Dobble,  Hobble  and  Co.  of  Pall  Mall)  ; — the  lady  was  a  Mrs, 
Manasseh,  widow  of  an  American  Jew,  living  quietly  at  Leam- 
ington with  her  children,  but  possessed  of  an  immense  property. 
There's  no  use  to  give  one's  self  out  to  be  an  absolute  pauper ; 
so  the  fact  is,  that  I  myself  went  everywhere  with  the  character 
of  a  man  of  very  large  means.  My  father  had  died,  leaving 
me  immense  sums  of  money,  and  landed  estates.  Ah  !  I  was 
the  gentleman  then,  the  real  gentleman,  and  everybody  was 
too  happy  to  have  me  at  table. 

Well,  I  came  the  next  day  and  left  a  card  for  Dobble,  with  a 
note.  He  neither  returned  my  visit,  nor  answered  my  note. 
The  day  after,  however,  I  met  him  with  the  widow,  as  before  ; 
and  going  up  to  him,  very  kindly  seized  him  by  the  hand,  and 
swore  I  was — as  really  was  the  case — charmed  to  see  him. 
Dobble  hung  back,  to  my  surprise,  and  I  do  believe  the  crea- 
ture would  have  cut  me,  if  he  dared  ;  but  I  gave  him  a  frown, 
and  said — 

"  What,  Dobble  my  boy,  don't  you  recollect  old  Stubbs,  and 
our  adventure  with  the  butcher's  daughters — ha .''  " 

Dobble  gave  a  sickly  kind  of  grin,  and  said,  "  Oh  !  ah  !  yes  ! 
It  is — yes !    it  is,  I  believe,  Captain  Stubbs." 

"  An  old  comrade,  Madam,  of  Captain  Debbie's,  and  one 
who  has  heard  so  much,  and  seen  so  much  of  your  ladyship,  that 
he  must  take  tiie  liberty  of  begging  his  friend  to  introduce  him." 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS.  765 

Dobble  was  obliged  to  take  the  hint ;  and  Captain  Stubbs 
was  duly  presented  to  Mrs.  Manasseh.  The  lady  was  as  gra- 
cious as  possible  ;  and  when,  at  the  end  of  the  walk,  we  parted, 
she  said  "  she  hoped  Captain  Dobble  would  bring  me  to  her 
apartments  that  evening,  where  she  expected  a  few  friends." 
Everybody,  you  see,  knows  everybody  at  Leamington  ;  and  I, 
for  my  part,  was  well  known  as  a  retired  officer  of  the  army, 
who,  on  his  father's  death,  had  come  into  seven  thousand  a 
year.  Dobble's  arrival  had  been  subsequent  to  mine  ;  but  put- 
ting up  as  he  did  at  the  "  Royal  Hotel,"  and  dining  at  the  ordi- 
nary there  with  the  widow,  he  had  made  her  acquaintance  before 
I  had.  I  saw,  however,  that  if  I  allowed  him  to  talk  about  me, 
as  he  could,  I  should  be  compelled  to  give  up  all  my  hopes 
and  pleasures  at  Leamington  ;  and  so  I  determined  to  be  short 
with  him.  As  soon  as  the  lady  had  gone  into  the  hotel,  my 
friend  Dobble  was  for  leaving  me  likewise  ;  but  I  stopped  him. 
and  said,  "  Mr.  Dobble,  I  saw  what  you  meant  just  now  :  you 
wanted  to  cut  me,  because,  forsooth,  I  did  not  choose  to  fight 
a  duel  at  Portsmouth.  Now  look  you,  Dobble,  I  am  no  hero, 
but  I'm  not  such  a  coward  as  you — and  you  know  it.  You  are 
a  very  different  man  to  deal  with  from  Waters  ;  and  I  will  fight 
this  time." 

Not  perhaps  that  I  would  :  but  after  the  business  of  the 
butcher,  I  knew  Dobble  to  be  as  great  a  coward  as  ever  lived  ; 
and  there  never  was  any  harm  in  threatening,  for  you  know 
you  are  not  obliged  to  stick  to  it  afterwards.  My  words  had 
their  effect  upon  Dobble,  who  stuttered  and  looked  red,  and 
then  declared  he  never  had  the  slightest  intention  of  passing 
me  by  ;  so  we  became  friends,  and  his  mouth  was  stopped. 

He  was  very  thick  with  the  widow,  but  that  lady  had  a  very 
capacious  heart,  and  there  were  a  number  of  other  gentlemen 
who  seemed  equally  smitten  with  her.  "  Look  at  that  Mrs. 
Manasseh,"  said  a  gentleman  (it  was  droll,  he  was  a  Jew,  too) 
sitting  at  dinner  by  me.  "  She  is  old,  and  ugly,  and  yet,  be- 
cause she  has  money,  all  the  men  are  flinging  themselves  at 
her." 

"  She  has  money,  has  she  ?" 

"Eighty  thousand  pounds,  and  twenty  thousand  for  each  of 
her  children.  I  know  \'ifor  a/act,"  said  the  strange  gentleman. 
"  I  am  in  the  law,  and  we  of  our  faith,  you  know,  know  pretty 
well  what  the  great  families  amongst  us  are  worth." 

"  Who  was  Mr.  ManassRh  ?  "  said  L 

"  A  man  of  enormous  wealth — a  tobacco  merchant — West 
Indies;  a  fellow  of  no  birth,  however  ;  and  who,  between  our- 
selves, married  a  woman  that  is  not  much  better  than  she  should 


766  STORIES. 

be.  My  dear  sir,-' whispered  he,  "she  is  always  in  love.  Now 
it  is  with  that  Captain  Dobble  ;  last  week  it  was  somebody  else 
— and  it  may  be  you  next  week,  if — ha !  ha  !  ha! — you  are  dis- 
posed to  enter  the  lists.  I  wouldn't,  for  my  part,  have  the 
woman  with  twice  her  money." 

What  did  it  matter  to  me  whether  the  woman  was  good  or 
not,  provided  she  was  rich .?  My  course  was  quite  clear.  I 
told  Dobble  all  that  this  gentleman  had  informed  me,  and  being 
a  pretty  good  hand  at  making  a  story,  I  made  the  widow  appear 
so  bad,  that  the  poor  fellow  was  quite  frightened,  and  fairly 
quitted  the  field.  Ha  !  ha  !  I'm  dashed  i"f  I  did  not  make 
him  believe  that  Mrs.  Manasseh  had  murdered  her  last  husband. 

I  played  my  game  so  well,  thanks  to  the  information  that 
my  friend  the  lawyer  had  given  me,  that  in  a  month  I  had  got 
the  widov/  to  show  a  most  decided  partiality  for  me.  I  sat  by 
her  at  dinner,  I  drank  with  her  at  the  "  Wells  " — I  rode  with 
her,  I  danced  with  her,  and  at  a  picnic  to  Kenilworth,  where  we 
drank  a  good  deal  of  champagne,  I  actually  popped  the  ques- 
tion, and  was  accepted.  In  another  month,  Robert  Stubbs, 
Esq.,  led  to  the  altar,  Leah,  widow  of  the  late  Z.  Manasseh, 
Esq.,  of  St.  Kitt's  ! 

***** 

We  drove  up  to  London  in  her  comfortable  chariot :  the 
children  and  servants  following  in  a  post-chaise.  I  paid,  of 
course,  for  everything ;  and  until  our  house  in  Berkeley  Square 
was  painted,  we  stopped  at  "  Stevens's  Hotel." 

***** 

My  own  estate  had  been  sold,  and  the  money  was  lying  at 
a  bank  in  the  City.  About  three  days  after  our  arrival,  as  we 
took  our  breakfast  in  the  hotel,  previous  to  a  visit  to  Mrs. 
Stubbs's  banker,  where  certain  little  transfers  were  to  be  made, 
a  gentleman  was  introduced,  who,  I  saw  at  a  glance,  was  of  my 
wife's  persuasion. 

He  looked  at  Mrs.  Stubbs,  and  made  a  bow.  "  Perhaps  it 
will  be  convenient  to  you  to  pay  this  little  bill,  one  hundred  and 
fifty-two  pounds  .-•  " 

"  My  love,"  says  she,  "  will  you  pay  this — it  is  a  trifle  which 
I  had  really  forgotten  ?  " 

"  My  soul  !  "  said  I,  "I  have  really  not  the  money  in  the 
house." 

"  Vel,  denn,  Captain  Shtubbsh,"  says  he,  "I  must  do  my 
duty — and  arrest  you — here  is  the  writ !  Tom,  keep  the  door  !  " 
• — My  wife  fainted — the  children  screamed,  and  I  fancy  my 
condition  as  I  was  obliged  to  march  off  to  a  sponging-house 
along  with  a  horrid  sheriff's  officer ! 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS.  ^fyj 


OCTOBER.— MARS  AND  VENUS  IN  OPPOSITION. 

I  SHALL  not  describe  my  feelings  when  I  found  myself  in  a 
cage  in  Cursitor  Street,  instead  of  that  fine  house  in  Berkeley 
Square,  which  was  to  have  been  mine  as  the  husband  of  MrSo 
Manasseh.  What  a  place ! — in  an  odious,  dismal  street  lead- 
ing from  Chancery  Lane.  A  hideous  Jew  boy  opened  the  sec- 
ond of  the  three  doors  and  shut  it  when  Mr.  Nabb  and  I  (al- 
most fainting)  had  entered  ;  then  he  opened  the  third  door,  and 
then  I  was  introduced  to  a  filthy  place  called  a  coffee-room, 
which  I  exchanged  for  the  solitary  comfort  of  a  little  dingy 
back  parlor,  where  I  was  left  for  a  while  to  brood  over  my 
miserable  fate.  Fancy  the  change  between  this  and  Berkeley 
Square  !  Was  I,  after  all  my  pains,  and  cleverness,  and  perse- 
verance, cheated  at  last  ?  Had  this  Mrs.  Manasseh  been  im- 
posing upon  me,  and  were  the  words  of  the  wretch  I  met  at  the 
table-d'hote  at  Leamington  only  meant  to  mislead  me  and  take 
me  in  ?  I  determined  to  send  for  my  wife,  and  know  the  whole 
truth.  I  saw  at  once  that  I  had  been  the  victim  of  an  infernal 
plot,  and  that  the  carriage,  the  house  in  town,  the  West  India 
fortune,  were  only  so  many  lies  which  I  had  blindly  believed. 
It  was  true  the  debt  was  but  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  ;  and 
I  had  two  thousand  at  my  bankers'.  But  was  the  loss  of  her 
80,000/.  nothing  ?  Was  the  destruction  of  my  hopes  nothing  ? 
The  accursed  addition  to  my  family  of  a  Jewish  wife  and  three 
Jewish  children,  nothing  t  And  all  these  I  was  to  support  out 
of  my  two  thousand  pounds.  I  had  better  have  stopped  at 
home  with  my  mamma  and  sisters,  whom  I  really  did  love,  and 
who  produced  me  eighty  pounds  a  year. 

I  had  a  furious  interview  with  Mrs.  Stubbs  ;  and  when  I 
charged  her,  the  base  wretch  !  with  cheating  me,  like  a  brazen 
serpent  as  she  was,  she  flung  back  the  cheat  in  my  teeth,  and 
swore  I  had  swindled  her.  Why  did  I  marry  her,  when  she 
might  have  had  twenty  others  ?  She  only  took  me,  she  said, 
because  I  had  twenty  thousand  pounds.  I  //c?^/said  I  possessed 
that  sum  \  but  in  love,  you  know,  and  war  all's  fair. 

We  parted  quite  as  angrily  as  we  met ;  and  I  cordially  vowed 
that  when  I  had  paid  the  debt  into  which  I  had  been  swindled 
by  her,  I  would  take  my  2,000/.  and  depart  to  some  desert  island  ; 
or,  at  the  very  least,  to  America,  and  never  see  her  more,  or 
any  of  her  Israelitish  brood.     There  was  no  use  in  remaining 


768  STORIES. 

in  the  sponging-house  (for  I  knew  that  there  were  such  things 
as  detainers,  and  that  where  Mrs.  Stubbs  owed  a  hundred 
pounds,  she  might  owe  a  thousand)  :  so  I  sent  for  Mr.  Nabb, 
and  tendering  him  a  check  for  150/.  and  his  costs,  requested 
to  be  let  out  forthwith.  ''  Here,  fellow,"  said  I,  "  is  a  check 
on  Child's  for  your  paltry  sum." 

"■  It  may  be  a  sheck  on  Shild's,"  says  Mr.  Nabb  ;  "  but  I 
should  be  a  baby  to  let  you  out  on  such  a  paper  as  dat." 

''  Well,"  said  I,  "  Child's  is  but  a  step  from  this  :  you  may 
go  and  get  the  cash, — just  give  me  an  acknowledgment." 

Nabb  drew  out  the  acknowledgment  with  great  punctuality, 
and  set  off  for  the  bankers',  whilst  I  prepared  myself  for  de- 
parture from  this  abominable  jDrison. 

He  smiled  as  he  came  in.  "Well,"  said  I,  "you  have 
touched  your  money  ;  and  now,  I  must  tell  you,  that  you  are 
the  most  infernal  rogue  and  extortioner  I  ever  met  with." 

"  Oh,  no,  Mishter  Shtubbsh,"  says  he,  grinning  still.  "  Dere 
is  some  greater  roag  dan  me, — mosh  greater." 

"Fellow,"  said  I,  "don't  stand  grinning  before  a  gentle- 
man ;  but  give  me  my  hat  and  cloak,  and  let  me  leave  your 
filthy  den." 

"  Shtop,  Shtubbsh,"  says  he,  not  even  Mistering  me  this 
time.     "  Here  ish  a  letter,  vich  you  had  better  read." 

I  opened  the  letter  ;  something  fell  to  the  ground  : — it  was 
my  check. 

The  letter  ran  thus  :  "  Messrs.  Child  and  Co.  present  their 
compliments  to  Captain  Stubbs,  and  regret  that  they  have  been 
obliged  to  refuse  payment  of  the  enclosed,  having  been  served 
this  day  with  an  attachment  by  Messrs.  Solomonson  and  Co., 
which  compels  them  to  retain  Captain  Stubbs'  balance  of 
2,010/.  lis.  6d.  until  the  decision  of  the  suit  of  Solomonson  v. 
Stubbs.  Fkef  Street:' 

"  You  see,"  says  Mr.  Nabb,  as  I  read  this  dreadful  letter — 
"  you  see,  Shtubbsh,  dere  vas  two  debts, — a  little  von  and  a  big 
von.  So  dey  arrested  you  for  de  little  von,  and  attashed  your 
money  for  de  big  von." 

Don't  laugh  at  me  for  telling  this  story.  If  you  knew  what 
tears  are  blotting  over  the  paper  as  I  write  it — if  you  knew  that 
for  weeks  after  I  was  more  like  a  madman  than  a  sane  man, — ■ 
a  madman  in  the  Fleet  Prison,  where  I  went  instead  of  to  the 
desert  island!  What  had  I  done  to  deserve  it?  Hadn't  I 
always  kept  an  eye  to  the  main  chance.''  Hadn't  I  lived  econ- 
omically, and  not  like  other  young  men  ?  Had  I  ever  been 
known  to  squander  or  give  away  a  single  penny  ?     No  !  I  can 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS.  769 

lay  my  hand  on  my  heart,  and,  thank  heaven,  say,  No  !  Why, 
was  I  punished  so  ? 

Let  me  conclude  this  miserable  history.  Seven  months — ■ 
my  wife  saw  me  once  or  twice,  and  then  dropped  me  altogethet 
— I  remained  in  that  fatal  place.  I  wrote  to  my  dear  mamma, 
begging  her  to  sell  her  furniture,  but  got  no  answer.  All  my 
old  friends  turned  their  backs  upon  me.  My  action  went 
against  me — I  had  not  a  penny  to  defend  it.  Solomonson 
proved  my  wife's  debt,  and  seized  my  two  thousand  pounds. 
As  for  the  detainer  against  me,  I  was  obliged  to  go  through  the 
court  for  the  relief  of  insolvent  debtors.  I  passed  through  it, 
and  came  out  a  beggar.  But  fancy  the  malice  of  that  wicked 
Stiffelkind  :  he  appeared  in  court  as  my  creditor  for  3/.,  with 
sixteen  years'  interest  at  five  per  cent.,  for  a  pair  of  top-boots. 
The  old  thief  produced  them  in  court,  and  told  the  whole  story 
— Lord  Cornwallis,  the  detection,  the  pumping  and  all. 

Commissioner  Dubobwig  was  very  funny  about  it.  "  So 
Doctor  Swishtail  would  not  pay  you  for  the  boots,  eh,  Mr.  Stif- 
felkind ? " 

"  No  :  he  said,  ven  I  asked  him  for  payment,  dey  was 
ordered  by  a  yong  boy,  and  I  ought  to  have  gone  to  his  school- 
master." 

"  What !  then  you  came  on  a  bootless  errand,  ay,  sir  ?  "  (A 
laugh.) 

"  Bootless  !  no  sare,  I  brought  de  boots  back  vid  me.  How 
de  devil  else  could  I  show  dem  to  you  "i "     (Another  laugh.) 

"  You've  never  soled  'em  since,  Mr.  Tickleshins  ?  " 

"  I  never  would  sell  dem  ;  I  svore  I  never  vood,  on  porpus 
to  be  revenged  on  dat  Stobbs." 

"  What !  your  wound  has  never  been  healed,  eh  ?  " 

"  Vat  de  you  mean  vid  your  bootless  errands,  and  your 
soling  and  healing  ?  I  tell  you  I  have  done  vat  I  svore  to  do  : 
I  have  exposed  him  at  school ;  I  have  broak  olif  a  marriage  for 
him,  ven  he  vould  have  had  tventy  tousand  pound  ;  and  now  I 
have  showed  him  up  in  a  court  of  justice.  Dat  is  vat  I  'ave 
done,  and  dat's  enough."  And  then  the  old  wretch  went  down, 
whilst  everybody  was  giggling  and  staring  at  poor  me — as  if  I 
was  not  miserable  enough  already. 

"  This  seems  the  dearest  pair  of  boots  you  ever  had  in  your 
life,  Mr.  Stubbs,"  said  Commissioner  Dubobwig  very  archl}^ 
and  then  he  began  to  inquire  about  the  rest  of  my  misfortunes. 

In  the  fulness  of  my  heart  I  told  him  the  whole  of  them : 
how  Mr.  Solomonson  the  attorney  had  introduced  me  to  the 
rich  widow,  Mrs,  Manasseh,  who  had  iifty  thousand  pounds, 


770 


STORIES. 


and  an  estate  in  t'ne  West  Indies.  How  I  was  married,  and 
arrested  on  coining  to  town,  and  cast  in  an  action  for  two 
thousand  pounds  brought  against  me  by  this  very  Solomonson 
for  my  wife's  debts. 

*"  Stop  !  "  says  a  lawyer  in  the  court,  ^*  Is  this  woman  a 
showy,  black-haired  woman  with  one  eye?  very  often  drunk, 
with  three  children  ? — Solomonson,  short,  with  red  hair  ?  " 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  I,  with  tears  in  my  eyes. 

"  That  woman  has  married  three  fuen  within  the  last  two 
years.  One  in  Ireland,  and  one  at  Bath.  A  Solomonson  is, 
I  believe,  her  husband,  and  they  both  are  off  for  America  ten 
days  ago." 

"  But  why  did  you  not  keep  your  2,000/. .? "  said  the  lawyer. 

"  Sir,  they  attached  it." 

"  Oh,  well,  we  may  pass  you.  You  have  been  unlucky,  Mr. 
Stubbs,  but  it  seems  as  if  the  biter  had  been  bit  in  this  affair." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Dubobwig.     "  Mr.  Stubbs  is  the  victim  of 

a  FATAL  ATTACHMENT." 


NOVEMBER.— A  GENERAL  POST  DELIVERY. 

I  WAS  a  free  man  when  I  went  out  of  the  Court ;  but  I  was 
11  beggar — I,  Captain  Stubbs,  of  the  bold  North  Bungays,  did 
Aiot  know  where  I  could  get  a  bed,  or  a  dinner. 

As  I  was  marching  sadly  down  Portugal  Street,  I  felt  a 
hand  on  my  shoulder  and  a  rough  voice  which  I  knew  well. 

"  Veil,  Mr.  Stobbs,  have  I  not  kept  my  promise  ?  I  told 
you  dem  boots  would  be  your  ruin." 

I  was  much  too  miserable  to  reply ;  and  only  cast  my  eyes 
towards  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  which  I  could  not  see  for  the 
tears. 

"  Vat !  you  begin  to  gry  and  blobber  like  a  shild  .?  you  vood 
marry,  vood  you .'  and  noting  vood  do  for  you  but  a  vife  vid 
monny — ha,  ha — but  you  vere  de  pigeon,  and  she  was  de  grow. 
She  has  plocked  you,  too,  pretty  veil — eh  ?  ha  !  ha  !  " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Stiffelkind,"  said  I,  "  don't  laugh  at  my  misery: 
she  has  not  left  me  a  single  shilling  under  heaven.  And  I 
shall  starve  :  I  do  believe  I  shall  starve."  And  I  began  to  cry 
fit  to  break  my  lieart. 

"  Starf  !  stoff  and  nonsense  !     You  vill  never  die  of  starting 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS.  771 

'—you  vill  die  of  hanging,  I  tint — ho  !  ho  ! — and  it  is  moch 
easier  vay  too."  I  didn't  say  a  word,  but  cried  on ;  till  every- 
body in  the  street  turned  round  and  stared. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Stiffelkind,  "  do  not  grj,  Captain 
Stobbs — it  is  not  goot  for  a  Captain  to  gry — -ha  !  ha  !  Dere — • 
come  vid  me,  and  you  shall  have  a  dinner,  and  a  bregfast  too, 
— vich  shall  gost  you  nothing,  until  you  can  bay  vid  your  earn- 
ings." 

And  so  this  curious  old  man,  who  had  persecuted  me  all 
tlVough  my  prosperity,  grew  compassionate  towards  me  in  my 
ill-luck  ;  and  took  me  home  with  him  as  he  promised.  "  I  saw 
your  name  among  de  Insolvents,  and  I  vowed,  you  know,  to 
make  you  repent  dem  boots.  Dere  now,  it  is  done  and  for- 
gotten, look  you.  Here,  Betty,  Bettchen,  make  de  spare  bed, 
and  put  a  clean  knife  and  fork  ;  Lort  Cornvallis  is  come  to  dine 
vid  me." 

I  lived  with  this  strange  old  man  for  six  weeks.  I  kept  his 
books,  and  did  what  little  I  could  to  make  myself  useful  : 
carrying  about  boots  and  shoes,  as  if  I  had  never  borne  his 
Majesty's  commission.  He  gave  me  no  money,  but  he  fed  and 
lodged  me  comfortably.  The  men  and  boys  used  to  laugh,  and 
call  me  General,  and  Lord  Cornwallis,  and  all  sorts  of  nick- 
names ;  and  old  Stiffelkind  made  a  thousand  new  ones  for  me. 

One  day  I  can  recollect — one  miserable  day,  as  I  was  pol- 
ishing on  the  trees  a  pair  of  boots  of  Mr.  Stiffelkind's  manufac- 
ture— the  old  gentleman  came  into  the  shop,  with  a  lady  on  his 
arm. 

"  Vere  is  Captain  Stobbs  ?  "  said  he.  "  Vere  is  dat  orna- 
ment to  his  Majesty's  service  ?  " 

I  came  in  from  the  back  shop,  where  I  was  polishing  the 
boots,  with  one  of  them  in  my  hand. 

"  Look,  my  dear,"  says  he,  "  here  is  an  old  friend  of  yours, 
his  Excellency  Lort  Cornvallis  ! — Who  would  have  thought 
such  a  nobleman  vood  turn  shoeblack  ?  Captain  Stobbs,  here 
is  your  former  flame,  my  dear  niece.  Miss  Crutty.  How  could 
you,  Magdalen,  ever  leaf  such  a  lof  of^  a  man  ?  Shake  hands 
vid  her.  Captain  ; — dere,  never  mind  de  blacking  !  "  But  Miss 
drew  back. 

*'  I  never  shake  hands  with  a  shoeblack,'^  said  she,  mighty 
contemptuous. 

"  Bah  !  my  lof,  his  fingers  von't  soil  you.  Don't  you  know 
he  has  just  been  vitcwashed  ?  " 

"  I  wish,  uncle,"  says  she,  "  you  would  not  leave  me  with 
such  low  people." 


'j)2  STORIES. 

"  Low,  because  he  cleans  boots  ?  De  Captain  preierspUm^S 
to  boots  I  tink— ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Captain  indeed  !  a  nice  Captain,"  says  Miss  Crutty,  snap- 
ping her  fingers  in  my  face,  and  walking  away :  "  a  Captain 
who  has  had  his  nose  pulled !  ha  !  ha  !  " — And  how  could  I 
help  it  ?  it  wasn't  by  my  own  c/ioice  that  that  ruffian  Waters 
took  such  liberties  with  me.  Didn't  I  show  how  averse  I  was 
to  all  quarrels  by  refusing  altogether  his  challenge  ? — But  such 
is  the  worldo  And  thus  the  people  at  Stiffelkind's  used  to 
tease  me,  until  they  drove  me  almost  mad. 

At  last  he  came  home  one  day  more  merry  and  abusive  than 
ever.  "  Captain,"  says  he,  "  I  have  goot  news  for  you — a  goot 
place.  Your  lordship  vill  not  be  able  to  geep  your  gafridge, 
but  you  vill  be  gomfortable,  and  serve  his  Majesty." 

"  Serve  his  Majesty  ? "  says  I,  ''  Dearest  Mr,  Stiffelkind, 
have  you  got  me  a  place  under  Government  ?  " 

*'Yes,  and  somting  better  still — not  only  a  place,  but  a 
uniform:  yes,  Captain  Stobbs,  a  red  goat:' 

"  A  red  coat !  I  hope  you  don't  think  I  would  demean  my- 
self by  entering  the  ranks  of  the  army  }  I  am  a  gentleman,  Mr. 
Stiffelkind — I  can  never — no,  I  never " 

"  No,  I  know  you  will  never — you  are  too  great  a  goward — 
ha  !  ha  ! — though  dis  is  a  red  goat,  and  a  place  where  you  must 
give  some  hard  kfwcks  too — ha  !  ha  ! — do  you  gomprehend .? — 
and  you  shall  be  a  general  instead  of  a  gaptain — ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  A  general  in  a  red  coat,  Mr.  Stiffelkind .?  " 

"  Yes,  a  Ceneral  Bostman  ! — ha  ha  !  I  have  been  vid  your 
old  friend,  Bunting,  and  he  has  an  uncle  in  the  Post  office,  and 
he  has  got  you  de  place — eighteen  shillings  a  veek,  you  rogue, 
and  your  goat.  You  must  not  oben  any  of  de  letters  you  know." 
_  And  so  it  was — I,  Robert  Stubbs,  Esquire,  became  the  vile 
thing  he  named — a  general  postman  ! 

*  *  #  *  * 

I  was  so  disgusted  with  Stiffelkind's  brutal  jokes,  which 
were  now  more  brutal  than  ever,  that  when  I  got  my  place  in 
the  Post  Office,  I  never  went  near  the  fellow  again  :  for  though 
he  had  done  me  a  favor  in  keeping  me  from  starvation,  he  cer- 
tainly had  done  it  in  a  very  rude,  disagreeable  manner,  and 
showed  a  low  and  mean  spirit  in  shoving  me  into  such  a  de- 
graded place  as  that  of  postman.  But  what  had  I  to  do  >  I 
submitted  to  fate,  and  for  three  years  or  more,  Robert  Stubbs, 
of  the  North  Bungay  Fencibles,  was 

I  wonder  nobody  recognized  me.  I  lived  in  daily  fear  the 
first  year :  but  afterwards  grew  accustomed  to  my  situation,  as 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


773 


all  great  men  will  do,  and  wore  my  red  coat  as  naturally  as  if 
I  had  been  sent  into  the  world  only  for  the  purpose  of  being  a 
letter-carrier. 

I  was  first  in  the  Whitechapel  district,  where  I  stayed  for 
nearly  three  years,  when  I  was  transferred  to  Jermyn  Street 
and  Duke  Street — famous  places  for  lodgings.  I  suppose  I 
left  a  hundred  letters  at  a  house  in  the  latter  street,  where  lived 
some  people  who  must  have  recognized  me  had  they  but  once 
chanced  to  look  at  me. 

You  see  that,  when  I  left  Sloffemsquiggle,  and  set  out  in  the 
gay  world,  my  mamma  had  written  to  me  a  dozen  times  at  least  \ 
but  I  never  answered  her,  for  I  knew  she  wanted  money,  and  I 
detest  writing.  Well,  she  stopped  her  letters,  finding  she  could 
get  none  from  me  : — but  when  I  was  in  the  Fleet,  as  I  told  you, 
I  wrote  repeatedly  to  my  dear  mamma,  and  was  not  a  little 
nettled  at  her  refusing  to  notice  me  in  my  distress,  which  is  the 
very  time  one  most  wants  notice. 

Stubbs  is  not  an  uncommon  name  ;  and  though  I  saw  Mrs. 
Stubbs  on  a  little  bright  brass  plate,  in  Duke  Street,  and  de- 
livered so  many  letters  to  the  lodgers  in  her  house,  I  never 
thought  of  asking  who  she  was,  or  whether  she  was  my  relation, 
or  not. 

One  day  the  young  woman  who  took  in  the  letters  had  not 
got  change,  and  she  called  her  mistress.  An  old  lady  in  a 
poke-bonnet  came  out  of  the  parlor,  and  put  on  her  spectacles, 
and  looked  at  the  letter,  and  fumbled  in  her  pocket  for  eight- 
pence,  and  apologized  to  the  postman  for  keeping  him  waiting. 
And  when  I  said,  "  Never  mind.  Ma'am,  it's  no  trouble,"  the 
old  lady  gave  a  start,  and  then  she  pulled  off  her  spectacles, 
and  staggered  back  ;  and  then  she  began  muttering,  as  if  about 
to  choke  ;  and  then  she  gave  a  great  screech,  and  flung  herself 
into  my  arms,  and  roared  out,  "  My  son,  my  son  !  " 

"  Law,  mamma,"  said  I,  "  is  that  you  ?  "  and  I  sat  down  on 
the  hall  bench  with  her,  and  let  her  kiss  me  as  much  as  ever 
she  liked.  Hearing  the  whining  and  crying,  down  comes 
another  lady  from  up  stairs, — it  was  my  sister  Eliza  ;  and  down 
come  the  lodgers.  And  the  maid  gets  water  and  what  not,  and 
I  was  the  regular  hero  of  the  group.  I  could  not  stay  long  then, 
having  my  letters  to  deliver.  But,  in  the  evening,  after  mail- 
time,  I  went  back  to  my  mamma  and  sister ;  and,  over  a  bottle 
of  prime  old  port,  and  a  precious  good  leg  of  boiled  mutton  and 
turnips,  made  myself  pretty  comfortable.  I  can  tell  you. 


774  STORIES. 


DECEMBER.— "THE  WINTER  OF  OUR  DISCONTENT." 

Mamma  had  kept  the  house  in  Duke  Street  for  more  than 
two  years.  I  recollected  some  of  the  chairs  and  tables  from 
dear  old  Sloffemsquiggle,  and  the  bowl  in  which  I  had  made 
that  famous  rum-punch,  the  evening  she  went  away,  which  she 
and  my  sisters  left  untouched,  and  I  was  obliged  to  drink  after 
they  were  gone  ;  but  that's  not  to  the  purpose. 

Think  of  my  sister  Lucy's  luck  !  that  chap.  Waters,  fell  in 
lave  with  her,  and  married  her  ;  and  she  now  keeps  her  carriage, 
and  lives  in  state  near  Sloffemsquiggle.  I  offered  to  make  it 
up  with  Waters  ;  but  he  bears  malice,  and  never  will  see  or 
speak  to  me. — He  had  the  impudence,  too,  to  say,  that  he  took 
in  all  letters  for  mamma  at  Sloffemsquiggle  ;  and  that  as  mine 
were  all  begging-letters,  he  burned  them,  and  never  said  a  word 
to  her  concerning  them.  He  allowed  mamma  fifty  pounds  a 
year,  and,  if  she  were  not  such  a  fool,  she  might  have  had  three 
times  as  much  ;  but  the  old  lady  was  high  and  mighty  forsooth, 
and  would  not  be  beholden,  even  to  her  own  daughter,  for 
more  than  she  actually  wanted.  Even  this  fifty  pound  she  was 
going  to  refuse  ;  but  when  I  came  to  live  with  her,  of  course  I 
wanted  pocket-money  as  well  as  board  and  lodging,  and  so  I 
had  the  fifty  pounds  for  my  share,  and  eked  out  with  it  as  well 
as  I  could. 

Old  Bates  and  the  Captain,  between  them,  gave  mamma  a 
hundred  pounds  when  she  left  me  (she  had  the  deuce's  own 
luck,  to  be  sure — much  more  than  ever  fell  to  me,  I  know)  ;  and 
as  she  said  she  zvould  try  and  work  for  her  living,  it  was  thought 
best  to  take  a  house  and  let  lodgings,  which  she  did.  Our  first 
and  second  floor  paid  us  four  guineas  a  week,  on  an  average  ; 
and  the  front  parlor  and  attic  made  forty  pounds  more.  Mamma 
and  Eliza  used  to  have  the  front  attic  :  but  /  took  that,  and 
they  slept  in  the  servants'  bedroom.  Lizzy  had  a  pretty  genius 
for  work,  and  earned  a  guinea  a  week  that  way  ;  so  that  we  had 
got  nearly  two  hundred  a  year  over  the  rent  to  keep  house  with, 
— and  we  got  on  pretty  well.  Besides,  women  eat  nothing  : 
my  women  didn't  care  for  meat  for  days  together  sometimes, — ■ 
so  that  it  was  only  necessary  to  dress  a  good  steak  or  so  for 
me. 

Mamma  would  not  think  of  my  continuing  in  the  Post  Office. 
She  said  her  dear  Robert,  her  husband's  son,  her  gallant  soldier, 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


Ill 


and  all  that,  should  remain  at  home  and  be  a  gentleman — which 
I  was,  certainly,  though  I  didn't  find  fifty  pounds  a  year  very 
much  to  buy  clothes  and  be  a  gentleman  upon.  To  be  sure, 
mother  found  me  shirts  and  linen,  so  that  that  wasn't  in  the 
fifty  pounds.  She  kicked  a  little  at  paying  the  washing  too  ; 
bnt  she  gave  in  at  last,  for  I  was  her  dear  Bob,  you  know ;  and 
I'm  blest  if  I  could  not  make  her  give  me  the  gown  off  her 
back.  Fancy  !  once  she  cut  up  a  very  nice  rich  black  silk 
scarf,  which  my  sister  Waters  sent  her,  and  made  me  a  waist- 
coat and  two  stocks  of  it.     She  was  so  very  soft,  the  old  lady  ! 

I'd  lived  in  this  way  for  five  years  or  more,  making  myself 
content  with  my  fifty  pounds  a  year  {perhaps  I'd  saved  a  little 
out  of  it  :  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there).  From  year's  end 
to  year's  end  I  remained  faithful  to  my  dear  mamma,  never 
leaving  her  except  for  a  month  or  so  in  the  summer — when  a 
bachelor  may  take  a  trip  toGravesend  or  Margate,  which  would 
be  too  expensive  for  a  family.  I  say  a  bachelor,  for  the  fact  is, 
I  don't  know  whether  I  am  married  or  not — never  having  heard 
a  word  since  of  the  scoundrelly  Mrs.  Stubbs. 

I  never  went  to  the  public-house  before  meals :  for,  with  my 
beggarly  fifty  pounds,  I  could  not  afford  to  dine  away  from 
home  :  but  there  I  had  my  regular  seat,  and  used  to  come  home 
pretty  glorious,  I  can  tell  you.  Then  bed  till  eleven ;  then 
breakfast  and  the  newspaper ;  then  a  stroll  in  Hyde  Park  or 
St.  James's  ;  then  home  at  half-past  three  to  dinner — when  I 
jollied,  as  I  call  it,  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  I  was  my  mother's 
delight ;  and  thus,  with  a  clear  conscience,  I  managed  to  live  on. 

*^  4t  -^  Ji>  Jl>  Jl> 

TV  TT  TT  W  "A"  -R" 

How  fond  she  was  of  me,  to  be  sure  !  Being  sociable  my- 
self, and  loving  to  have  my  friends  about  me,  we  often  used  to 
assemble  a  company  of  as  hearty  fellows  as  you  would  wish  to 
sit  down  with,  and  keep  the  nights  up  royally.  "  Never  mind, 
my  boys,"  I  used  to  say.  "  Send  the  bottle  round  :  mammy 
pays  for  all."  As  she  did,  sure  enough  :  and  sure  enough  we 
jDunished  her  cellar  too.  The  good  old  lady  used  to  wait  upon 
us,  as  if  for  all  the  world  she  had  been  my  servant,  instead  of 
a  lady  and  my  mamma.  Never  used  she  to  repine,  though  I 
often,  as  I  must  confess,  gave  her  occasion  (keeping  her  up  till 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  because  she  never  could  sleep 
until  she  saw  her  "  dear  Bob  "  in  bed,  and  leading  her  a  sad 
anxious  life).  She  was  of  such  a  sweet  temper,  the  old  lady, 
that  I  think  in  the  course  of  five  years  I  never  knew  her  in  a 
passion,  except  twice  :   and  then  with  sister  Lizzy,  who  declared 


776  STORIES. 

I  was  ruining  the  house,  and  driving  the  lodgers  away,  one  by 
one.  But  mamma  would  not  hear  of  such  envious  spite  on  my 
sister's  part.  "  Her  Bob  "  was  always  right,  she  said.  At  last 
Lizzy  fairly  retreated,  and  went  to  the  Waters's. — I  was  glad  of 
it,  for  her  temper  was  dreadful,  and  we  used  to  be  squabbling 
from  morning  till  night ! 

Ah,  those  zacfc  jolly  times  !  but  Ma  was  obliged  to  give  up 
the  lodging-house  at  last — for,  somehow,  things  went  wrong 
after  my  sister's  departure — the  nasty  uncharitable  people  said, 
on  account  of  me ;  because  I  drove  away  the  lodgers  by  smok- 
ing and  drinking,  and  kicking  up  noises  in  the  house  :  and 
because  Ma  gave  me  so  much  of  her  money  ; — so  she  did,  but 
if  she  would  give  it,  you  know,  how  could  I  help  it  ?  Heigho  ! 
I  wish  I'd  kept  it. 

No  such  luck.  The  business  I  thought  was  to  last  forever; 
but  at  the  end  of  two  years  came  a  smash — shut  up  shop — sell 
off  everything.  Mamma  went  to  the  Waters's  :  and,  will  you 
believe  it .''  the  ungrateful  wretches  M'ould  not  receive  me  !  that 
Mary,  you  see,  was  so  disappointed  at  not  marrying  me.  Twenty 
pounds  a  year  they  allow,  it  is  true  ;  but  what's  that  for  a  gentle- 
man .''  For  twenty  years  I  have  been  struggling  manfully  to 
gain  an  honest  livelihood,  and,  in  the  course  of  them,  have 
seen  a  deal  of  life,  to  be  sure.  I've  sold  cigars  and  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  at  the  corners  of  streets  ;  I've  been  a  billiard- 
marker  ;  I've  been  a  director  (in  the  panic  year)  of  the  Imperial 
British  Consolidated  Mangle  and  Drying  Ground  Company. 
I've  been  on  the  stage  (for  two  years  as  an  actor,  and  about  a 
month  as  a  cad,  when  I  was  very  low)  ;  I've  been  the  means  of 
giving  to  the  police  of  this  empire  some  very  valuable  informa- 
tion (about  licensed  victuallers,  gentlemen's  carts,  and  pawn- 
brokers'names)  ;  I've  been  very  nearly  an  officer  again — that 
is,  an  assistant  to  an  officer  of  the  Sheriff  of  Middlesex  :  it  was 
my  last  place. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  year  1837,  even  that  game  was  up. 
It's  a  thing  that  very  seldom  happened  to  a  gentleman,  to  be 
kicked  out  of  a  sponging-house  ;  but  such  was  my  case.  Young 
Nabb  (who  succeeded  his  father)  drove  me  ignominiously  from 
his  door,  because  I  had  charged  a  gentleman  in  the  coffee-rooms 
seven-and-sixpence  for  a  glass  of  ale  and  bread-and-cheese,  the 
charge  of  the  house  being  only  six  shillings.  He  had  the  mean- 
ness to  deduct  the  eighteenpence  from  my  wages,  and  because 
I  blustered  a  bit,  he  took  me  by  the  shoulders  and  turned  me 
out — me,  a  gentleman,  and,  what  is  more,  a  poor  orphan  ! 

How  I  did  rage  and  swear  at  him  when  I  got  out  into  the 


THE  FATAL  BOOTS. 


Ill 


Street !  There  stood  he,  the  hideous  Jew  monster,  at  the 
double  door,  writhing  under  the  effect  of  my  language.  I  had 
m}-  revenge  !  Heads  were  thrust  out  of  every  bar  of  his  windows 
laughing  at  him.  A  crowd  gathered  round  me,  as  I  stood 
pounding  him  with  my  satire,  and  they  evidently  enjoyed  his 
discomfiture.  I  think  the  mob  would  have  pelted  the  ruffian  to 
death  (one  or  two  of  their  missiles  hit  inc.,  I  can  tell  you),  when 
a  policeman  came  up,  and  in  reply  to  a  gentleman,  who  was 
asking  what  was  the  disturbance,  said,  "  Bless  you,  sir,  it's 
Lord  Cornwallis."  "  Move  on.  Boots,"  said  the  fellow  to  me  \ 
for  the  fact  is,  my  misfortunes  and  early  life  are  pretty  well 
known — and  so  the  crowd  dispersed. 

"What  could  have  made  that  policeman  call  you  Lord  Corn- 
wallis and  Boots  ^  "  said  the  gentleman,  who  seemed  mightily 
amused,  and  had  followed  me.  "  Sir,"  says  I,  "  I  am  an 
unfortunate  officer  of  the  North  Bungay  Fencibles,  and  I'll  tell 
you  willingly  for  a  pint  of  beer."  He  told  me  to  follow  him  to 
his  chambers  in  the  Temple,  which  I  did  (a  five  pair  back),  and 
there,  sure  enough,  I  had  the  beer  ;  and  told  him  this  very  story 
you've  been  reading.  You  see  he  is  what  is  called  a  literary 
man — and  sold  my  adventures  for  me  to  the  booksellers  :  he's 

a  strange  chap  ;  and  says  they're  vioral. 

****** 

I'm  blest  if  /can  see  anything  moral  in  them.  I'm  sure  I 
ought  to  have  been  more  lucky  through  life,  being  so  very  wide 
awake.  And  yet  here  I  am,  without  a  place,  or  even  a  friend, 
starving  upon  a  beggarly  twenty  pounds  a  year — not  a  single 
sixpence  more,  upon  my  honor; 


LITTLE    TRAVELS 

AND 

KOAD-SIDE    SKETCHES. 


LITTLE    TRAVELS 

AND 

ROAD-SIDE    SKETCHES. 


I. — Fkom  Richmond  in  Surrey  to  Brussels  in  Belgium. 

*  *  I  quitted  the  "  Rose  Cottage  Hotel "  at  Richmond, 
one  of  the  comfortablest,  quietest,  cheapest,  neatest  Httle  inns 
in  England,  and  a  thousand  times  preferable,  in  my  opinion,  to 
the  "  Star  and  Garter,"  whither  if  you  go  alone,  a  sneering 
waiter,  with  his  hair  curled,  frightens  you  off  the  premises  ;  and 
where,  if  you  are  bold  enough  to  brave  the  sneering  waiter,  you 
have  to  pay  ten  shillings  for  a  bottle  of  claret  ;  and  whence,  if 
you  look  out  of  the  window,  you  gaze  on  a  view  which  is  so 
rich  that  it  seems  to  knock  you  down  with  its  splendor — a  view 
that  has  its  hair  curled  like  the  swaggering  waiter  :  I  sa}',  I 
quitted  the  "  Rose  Cottage  Hotel  "  with  deep  regret,  believing 
that  I  should  see  nothing  so  pleasant  as  its  gardens,  and  its 
veal  cutlets,  and  its  dear  little  bowling-green,  elsewhere.  But 
the  time  comes  when  people  must  go  out  of  town,  and  so  I  got 
on  the  top  of  the  omnibus,  and  the  carpet-bag  was  put  inside. 

If  I  were  a  great  prince  and  rode  outside  of  coaches  (as  I 
should  if  I  were  a  great  prince),  I  would,  whether  I  smoked 
or  not,  have  a  case  of  the  best  Havanas  in  my  pocket — not 
for  my  own  smoking,  but  to  give  them  to  the  snobs  on  the 
coach,  who  smoke  the  vilest  cheroots.  They  poison  the  air 
with  the  odor  of  their  filthy  weeds.  A  man  at  all  easy  in  his 
circumstances  would  spare  himself  much  annoyance  by  taking 
the  above  simple  precaution. 


782      LITTLE  TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCHES. 

A  gentleman  sitting  behind  me  tapped  me  on  the  back  and 
asked  for  a  light.  He  was  a  footman,  or  rather  valet.  He 
had  no  Xwoxy,  but  the  three  friends  who  accompanied  him 
were  tall  men  in  pepper-and-salt  undress  jackets  with  a  duke's 
coronet  on  their  buttons. 

After  tapping  me  on  the  back,  and  when  he  had  finished 
his  cheroot,  the  gentleman  produced  another  wind-instrument, 
which  he  called  a  "  kinopium,"  a  sort  of  trumpet,  on  which  he 
showed  a  great  inclination  to  play.  He  began  puffing  out  of 
the  "  kinopium  "  a  most  abominable  air,  which  he  said  was  the 
"  Duke's  March."  It  was  played  by  particular  request  of  one 
of  the  pepper-and-salt  gentry. 

The  noise  was  so  abominable  that  even  the  coachman 
objected  (although  my  friend's  brother  footmen  were  ravished 
with  it),  and  said  that  it  was  not  allowed  to  play  toons  owhis  'bus. 

"  Very  well,  said  the  valet,  "  we're  only  of  the  Duke  of  B 's 

establishmetit,  that's  all."  The  coachman  could  not  resist 
that  appeal  to  his  fashionable  feelings.  The  valet  was  allowed 
to  play  his  infernal  kinopium,  and  the  poor  fellow  (the  coach- 
man), who  had  lived  in  some  private  families,  was  quite  anxious 
to  conciliate  the  footmen  "of  the  Duke  of  B.'s  establishment, 
that's  all,  and  told  several  stories  of  his  having  been  groom  in 
Captain  Hoskins's  family,  nephew  of  Governor  Hoskins ;  which 
stories  the  footmen  received  with  great  contempt. 

The  footmen  were  like  the  rest  of  the  fashionable  world  in 
this  respect.  I  felt  for  my  part  that  I  respected  them.  They 
were  in  daily  communication  with  a  duke  !  They  were  not  the 
rose,  but  they  had  lived  beside  it.  There  is  an  odor  in  the 
English  aristocracy  whicli  intoxicates  plebeians.  I  am  sure 
that  any  commoner  in  England,  though  he  would  die  rather 
than  confess  it,  would  have  a  respect  for  those  great  big  hulking 
Duke's  footmen. 

The  day  before,  her  Grace  the  Duchess  had  passed  us  alone 
in  a  chariot-and-four  with  two  outriders.  What  better  mark  of 
innate  superiority  could  man  want  ?  Here  was  a  slim  lady 
who  required  four — six  horses  to  herself,  and  four  servants 
(kinopium  was,  no  doubt,  one  of  the  number)  to  guard  her. 

We  were  sixteen  inside  and  out,  and  had  consequently  an 
eighth  of  a  horse  apiece. 

A  duchess  =  6,  a  commoner  ^  ;  that  is  to  say, 

I  duchess  =  48  commoners. 

If  I  were  a  duchess  of  the  present  day,  I  would  say  to  the 
duke  my  noble  husband,  "  My  dearest  grace,  I  think,  when  I 
travel  alone  in  my  chariot  from  Hammersmith  to  London,  I  will 


FROM  RICHMOND   TO  BRUSSELS.  7^83 

not  care  for  the  outriders.  In  these  days,  when  there  is  so 
much  poverty  and  so  much  disaffection  in  the  country,  we  should 
not  eclabousser  the  canaille  with  the  sight  of  our  preposterous 
prosperity." 

But  this  is  very  lilcely  only  plebeian  envy,  and  I  dare  say, 
if  I  were  a  lovely  duchess  of  the  realm,  I  would  ride  in  a  coach 
and  six,  with  a  coronet  on  the  top  of  my  bonnet  and  a  robe  of 
velvet  and  ermine  even  in  the  dog-days. 

Alas  !  these  are  the  dog-days.  Many  dogs  are  abroad — • 
snarling  dogs,  biting  dogs,  envious  dogs,  mad  dogs  ;  beware 
of  exciting  the  fury  of  such  with  your  flaming  red  velvet  and 
dazzling  ermine.  It  makes  ragged  Lazarus  doubly  hungry  to 
see  Dives  feasting  in  cloth-of-gold ;  and  so  if  I  were  a  beaute- 
ous duchess  *  *  *  Silence,  vain  man !  Can  the  Queen 
herself  make  you  a  duchess  ?  Be  content,  then,  nor  gibe  at  thy 
betters  of  "  the  Duke  of  B 's  establishment — that's  all." 

On  board  the  '■'  Antwerpen"  Ojf  everywhere. 

We  have  bidden  adieu  to  Billingsgate,  we  have  passed  the 
Thames  Tunnel  ;  it  is  one  o'clock,  and  of  course  people  are 
thinking  of  being  hungry.  What  a  merry  place  a  steamer  is  on. 
a  calm  sunny  summer  forenoon,  and  what  an  appetite  every 
one  seems  to  have!  We  are,  I  assure  you,  no  less  than  170 
noblemen  and  gentlemen  together,  pacing  up  and  down  under 
the  awning,  or  lolling  on  the  sofas  in  the  cabin,  and  hardly 
have  we  passed  Greenwich  when  the  feeding  begins.  The  com- 
pany was  at  the  brandy  and  soda-water  in  an  instant  (there  is 
a  sort  of  legend  that  the  beverage  is  a  preservative  against  sea- 
sickness), and  I  admired  the  penetration  of  gentlemen  who 
partook  of  the  drink.  In  the  first  place,  the  steward  w//l  put  so 
much  brandy  into  the  tumbler  that  it  is  fit  to  choke  you  ;  and, 
secondly,  the  soda-water,  being  kept  as  near  as  possible  to  the 
boiler  of  the  engine,  is  of  a  fine  wholesome  heat  when  pre- 
sented to  the  hot  and  thirsty  traveller.  Thus  he  is  prevented 
from  catching  any  sudden  cold  which  might  be  dangerous  to 
him. 

The  forepart  of  the  vessel  is  crowded  to  the  full  as  much  as 
the  genteeler  quarter.  There  are  four  carriages,  each  with 
piles  of  imperials  and  aristocratic  gimcracks  of  travel,  under  the 
wheels  of  which  those  personages  have  to  clamber  who  have  a 
mind  to  look  at  the  bowsprit,  and  perhaps  to  smoke  a  cigar  at 
ease.  The  carriages  overcome,  you  find  yourself  confronted  by 
a  huge  penful  of  Durham  oxen,  lying  on  hay  and  surrounded 
by  a  barricade  of  oar=.    Fifteen  of  these  horned  monsters  main- 


784      LITTLE  TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCIIF.^. 

tain  an  incessant  mooing  and  bellowing.  Beyond  the  cows 
come  a  heap  of  cotton-bags,  beyond  the  cotton-bags  more 
carriages,  more  pyramids  of  travelling  trunks,  and  valets  and 
couriers  bustling  and  swearing  round  about  them.  And  al- 
ready, and  in  various  corners  and  niches,  lying  on  coils  of  rope, 
'black  tar-cloths,  ragged  cloaks,  or  hay,  you  see  a  score  of  those 
dubious  fore-cabin  passengers,  who  are  never  shaved,  who 
always  look  unhappy,  and  appear  getting  ready  to  be  sick. 

At  one,  dinner  begins  in  the  after-cabin — boiled  salmon, 
boiled  beef,  boiled  mutton,  boiled  cabbage,  boiled  potatoes,  and 
parboiled  wine  for  any  gentlemen  who  like  it,  and  two  roast- 
ducks  between  seventy.  After  this,  knobs  of  cheese  are  handed 
round  on  a  plate,  and  there  is  a  talk  of  a  tart  somewhere  at 
some  end  of  the  table.  All  this  I  saw  peeping  through  a  sort 
of  meat-safe  which  ventilates  the  top  of  the  cabin,  and  very 
happy  and  hot  did  the  people  seem  below. 

"  How  the  deuce  can  people  dine  at  such  an  hour  ?  "  say 
several  genteel  fellows  who  are  watching  the  manoeuvres.  "  I 
can't  touch  a  morsel  before  seven." 

But  somehow  at  half-past  three  o'clock  we  had  dropped  a 
long  way  down  the  river.  The  air  was  delightfully  fresh,  the 
sky  of  a  faultless  cobalt,  the  river  shining  and  flashing  like 
quicksilver,  and  at  this  period  steward  runs  against  me  bearing 
two  great  smoking  dishes  covered  by  two  great  glistening  hemi- 
spheres of  tin.     "  Fellow,"  says  I,  "  what's  that  ?  " 

^He  lifted  up  the  cover  :  it  was  ducks  and  green  pease,  by 
jingo  ! 

''■'\Wliat'!  haven't  they  Aox\&  yet,  the  greedy  creatures  ?  "  I 
asked.     "  Have  the  people  been  feeding  for  three  hours  }  " 

"  Law  bless  you,  sir,  it's  the  second  dinner.  Make  haste, 
or  you  won't  get  a  place."  At  which  words  a  genteel  party, 
with  whom  I  had  been  conversing,  instantly  tumbled  down  the 
hatchway,  and  I  find  myself  one  of  the  second  relay  of  seventy 
who  are  attacking  the  boiled  salmon,  boiled  beef,  boiled  cab- 
bage, «&c.  As  for  the  ducks,  I  certainly  had  some  pease,  very 
fine  yellow  stiff  pease,  that  ought  to  have  been  split  before  they 
were  boiled ;  but,  with  regard  to  the  ducks,  I  saw  the  animals 
gobbled  up  before  my  eyes  by  an  old  widow  lady  and  her  party 
just  as  I  was  shrieking  to  the  steward  to  bring  a  knife  and  fork 
to  carve  them.  The  fellow  !  (I  mean  the  widow  lady's  whis- 
kered companion) — I  saw  him  eat  pease  with  the  very  knife 
with  which  he  had  dissected  the  duck  ! 

After  dinner  (as  I  need  not  tell  the  keen  observer  of  human 
nature  who  peruses  this)  the  human  mind,  if  the  body  be  in  » 


FROM  RICHMOiYD  TO  BRUSSELS.  785 

decent  state,  expands  into  gayety  and  benevolence,  and  the 
intellect  longs  to  measure  itself  in  friendly  converse  with  the 
divers  intelligences  around  it.  We  ascend  upon  deck,  and  after 
eyeing  each  other  for  a  brief  space  and  with  a  friendly  modest 
hesitation,  we  begin  anon  to  converse  about  the  weather  and 
other  profound  and  delightful  themes  of  English  discourse.  We 
confide  to  each  other  our  respective  opinions  of  the  ladies  round 
about  us.  Look  at  that  charming  creature  in  a  pink  bonnet 
and  a  dress  of  the  pattern  of  a  Kilmarnock  snufT-box :  a  stal- 
wart Irish  gentleman  in  a  green  coat  and  bushy  red  whiskers  is 
whispering  something  very  agreeable  into  her  ear,  as  is  the  wont 
of  gentlemen  of  his  nation  ;  for  her  dark  eyes  kindle,  her  red 
lips  open  and  give  an  opportunity  to  a  dozen  beautiful  pearly 
teeth  to  display  themselves,  and  glance  brightly  in  the  sun  ; 
while  round  the  teeth  and  the  lips  a  number  of  lovely  dimples 
make  their  appearance,  and  her  whole  countenance  assumes  a 
look  of  perfect  health  and  happiness.  See  her  companion 
in  shot  silk  and  a  dove-colored  parasol :  in  what  a  graceful 
Watteau-like  attitude  she  reclines.  The  tall  courier  who  has 
been  bouncing  about  the  deck  in  attendance  upon  these  ladies 
(it  is  his  first  day  of  service,  and  he  is  eager  to  make  a  favor- 
able impression  on  them  and  the  lady's-maids  too)  has  just 
brought  them  from  the  carriage  a  small  paper  of  sweet  cakes 
(nothing  is  prettier  than  to  see  a  pretty  woman  eating  sweet 
biscuits)  and  a  bottle  that  evidently  contains  Malmsey  Madeira. 
How  daintily  they  sip  it ;  how  hapjDy  they  seem  ;  how  that  lucky 
rogue  of  an  Irishman  prattles  away  1  Yonder  is  a  noble  group 
indeed :  an  English  gentleman  and  his  family.  Children, 
mother,  grandmother,  grown-up  daughters,  father,  and  domes- 
tics, twenty-two  in  all.  They  have  a  table  to  themselves  on 
the  deck,  and  the  consumption  of  eatables  among  them  is  really 
endless.  The  nurses  have  been  bustling  to  and  fro,  and  bring- 
ing, first,  slices  of  cake  ;  then  dinner ;  then  tea  with  huge  family 
jugs  of  milk ;  and  the  little  people  have  been  playing  hide-and- 
seek  round  the  deck,  coquetting  with  the  other  children,  and 
making  friends  of  every  soul  on  board.  I  love  to  see  the  kind 
eyes  of  women  fondly  watching  them  as  they  gambol  about ;  a 
female  face,  be  it  ever  so  plain,  when  occupied  in  regarding 
children,  becomes  celestial  almost,  and  a  man  can  hardly  fail 
to  be  good  and  happy  while  he  is  looking  on  at  such  sights. 
"  Ah,  sir !  "  says  a  great  big  man,  whom  you  would  not  accuse 
of  sentiment,  '*  I  have  a  couple  of  those  little  things  at  home  ;" 
and  he  stops  and  heaves  a  great  big  sigh  and  swallows  down  a 
half  tumbler  of  cold  something  and  water.     We  know  what  the 


786     LTTTLIj.    TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCHES. 

honest  fellow  means  well  enough.  He  is  saying  to  himself, 
"  God  bless  my  girls  and  their  mother  !  "  but,  being  a  Briton, 
is  too  manly  to  speak  out  in  a  more  intelligible  way.  Perhaps 
it  is  as  well  for  him  to  be  quiet,  and  not  chatter  and  gesticulate 
like  those  Frenchmen  a  few  yards  from  him,  who  are  chirping 
over  a  bottle  of  champagne. 

There  is,  as  you  may  fancy,  a  number  of  such  groups  on 
the  deck,  and  a  pleasant  occupation  it  is  for  a  lonely  man  to 
watch  them  and  build  theories  upon  them,  and  examine  those 
two  personages  seated  cheek  by  jowl.  One  is  an  English  youth, 
travelling  for  the  first  time,  who  has  been  hard  at  his  Guide- 
book during  the  whole  journey.  He  has  a  "  Manuel  du  Voy- 
ageur"  in  his  pocket :  a  very  pretty,  amusing  little  oblong  work 
it  is  too,  and  might  be  very  useful,  if  the  foreign  people  in  three 
languages,  among  whom  you  travel,  would  but  give  the  answers 
set  down  in  the  book,  or  understand  the  questions  you  put  to 
them  out  of  it.  The  other  honest  gentleman  in  the  fur  cap, 
what  can  his  occupation  be  ?  We  know  him  at  once  for  what 
he  is.  "  Sir,"  says  he,  in  a  fine  German  accent,  "I  am  a  bro- 
fessor  of  languages,  and  will  gif  you  lessons  in  Danish,  Swedish, 
English,  Bortuguese,  Spanish  and  Bersian."  Thus  occupied  in 
meditations,  the  rapid  hours  and  the  rapid  steamer  pass  quickly 
on.  The  sun  is  sinking,  and,  as  he  drops,  the  ingenious  lumi- 
nary sets  the  Thames  on  fire  :  several  worthy  gentlemen,  watch 
in  hand,  are  eagerly  examining  the  phenomena  attending  his 
disappearance, — rich  clouds  of  purple  and  gold,  that  form  the 
curtains  of  his  bed, — little  barks  that  pass  black  across  his 
disc,  his  disc  every  instant  dropping  nearer  and  nearer  into  the 
water.  "  There  he  goes !  "  says  one  sagacious  observer,  "  No, 
he  doesn't,"  cries  another.  Now  he  is  gone,  and  the  steward 
is  already  threading  the  deck,  asking  the  passengers,  right  and 
left,  if  they  will  take  a  little  supper.  What  a  grand  object  is  a 
sunset,  and  what  a  wonder  is  an  appetite  at  sea  !  Lo  !  the 
horned  moon  shines  pale  over  Margate,  and  the  red  beacon  is 
gleaming  from  distant  Ramsgate  pier. 

*  =16  *  *  =* 

A  great  rush  is  speedily  made  for  the  mattresses  that  lie  in 
the  boat  at  the  ship's  side  ;  and  as  the  night  is  delightfully 
calm,  many  fair  ladies  and  worthy  men  determine  to  couch  on 
deck  for  the  night.  The  proceedings  of  the  former,  especially 
if  they  be  young  and  pretty,  the  philosopher  watches  with  in- 
describable emotion  and  interest.  What  a  number  of  pretty 
coquetries  do  the  ladies  perform,  and  into  what  pretty  attitudes 
do  they  take  care  to  fall !     AH  the  little  children  have  been 


FROM  RICHMOND   TO  BRUSSELS. 


787 


gathered  up  by  the  nurserj'-maids,  and  are  taken  down  to  roost 
below.  Bahny  sleep  seals  the  eyes  of  many  tired  wayfarers,  as 
you  see  in  the  case  of  the  Russian  nobleman  asleep  among  the 
portmanteaus  ;  and  Titmarsh,  who  has  been  walking  the  deck 
for  some  time  with  a  great  mattress  on  his  shoulders,  knowing 
full  well  that  were  he  to  relinquish  it  for  an  instant,  some  other 
person  would  seize  on  it,  now  stretches  his  bed  upon  the  deck, 
Avraps  his  cloak  about  his  knees,  draws  his  white  cotton  night- 
cap tight  over  his  head  and  ears  ;  and,  as  the  smoke  of  his 
cigar  rises  calmy  upwards  to  the  deep  sky  and  the  cheerful 
twinkling  stars,  he  feels  himself  exquisitely  happy,  and  thinks 
of  thee,  my  Juliana  ! 


*  * 


Why  people,  because  they  are  in  a  steamboat,  should  get 
up  so  deucedly  early  I  cannot  understand.  Gentlemen  have 
been  walking  over  my  legs  ever  since  three  o'clock  this  morn- 
ing, and,  no  doubt,  have  been  indulging  in  personalities  (which 
I  hate)  regarding  my  appearance  and  manner  of  sleeping,  lying, 
snoring.  Let  the  wags  laugh  on  ;  but  a  far  pleasanter  occupa- 
tion is  to  sleep  until  breakfast  time,  or  near  it. 

The  tea,  and  ham  and  eggs,  which,  with  a  beefsteak  or 
two,  and  three  or  four  rounds  of  toast,  form  the  component 
parts  of  the  above-named  elegant  meal,  are  taken  in  the  River 
Scheldt.  Little  neat,  plump-looking  churches  and  villages  are 
rising  here  and  there  among  tufts  of  trees  and  pastures  that 
are  wonderfully  green.  To  the  right,  as  the  "  Guide-book  " 
says,  is  Walcheren  :  and  on  the  left  Cadsand,  memorable  for 
the  English  expedition  of  1809,  when  Lord  Chatham,  Sir 
\A'alter  Manny,  and  Henry  Earl  of  Derby,  at  the  head  of  the 
English,  gained  a  great  victory  over  the  Flemish  mercenaries 
in  the  pay  of  Philippe  of  Valois.  The  cloth-yard  shafts  of 
the  English  archers  did  great  execution.  Flushing  was  taken, 
and  Lord  Chatham  returned  to  England,  where  he  distinguished 
himself  greatly  in  the  debates  on  the  American  war,  which  he 
called  tlie  brightest  jewel  of  the  British  crown.  You  see,  my 
love,  that,  though  an  artist  by  profession,  my  education  has  by 
no  means  been  neglected  ;  and  what,  indeed,  would  be  the 
pleasure  of  travel,  unless  these  charming  historical  recollec- 
tions were  brought  to  bear  upon  it .'' 

Ani-ujcrp. 

As  many  hundreds  of  thousands  of  English  visit  this  city 
(I  have  met  at  least  a  hundred  of  them  in  this  half-hour  walk- 
ing the  streets,  "  Guide-book  "  in  hand),  and  as  the  ubiquitous 
Murray  has  already  depicted  the  place,  there  is  no  need  to 


^88     LITTLE  TRAVELS  AND  ROADSIDE  SKETCHES.  ' 

enter  into  a  long  description  of  it,  its  neatness,  its  beauty,  and 
its  stiff  antique  splendor.  The  tall  pale  houses  have  many  of 
them  crimped  gables,  that  look  like  Queen  Elizabeth's  ruffs. 
There  are  as  many  people  in  the  streets  as  in  London  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning ;  the  market-women  wear  bonnets  of  a 
flower-pot  shape,  and  have  shining  brazen  milk-pots,  which  are 
delightful  to  the  eyes  of  a  painter.  Along  the  quays  of  the 
lazy  Scheldt  are  innumerable  good-natured  groups  of  beer- 
drinkers  (small-beer  is  the  most  good-natured  drink  in  the 
world)  ;  along  the  barriers  outside  of  the  town,  and  by  the 
glistening  canals,  are  more  beer-shops  and  more  beer  drinkers. 
The  city  is  defended  by  the  queerest  fat  military.  The  chief 
traffic  is  between  the  hotels  and  the  railroad.  The  hotels  give 
wonderful  good  dinners,  and  especially  at  the  "  Grand  Labour- 
eur"  may  be  mentioned  a  jDcculiar  tart,  which  is  the  best  of  all 
tarts  that  ever  a  man  ate  since  he  ■yvas  ten  years  old.  A  moon- 
light walk  is  delightful.  At  ten  o'clock  the  whole  city  is  quiet ; 
and  so  little  changed  does  it  seem  to  be,  that  you  may  walk 
back  three  hundred  years  into  time,  and  fancy  yourself  a  ma- 
jestical  Spaniard,  or  an  oppressed  and  patriotic  Dutchman  at 
your  leisure.  You  enter  the  inn,  and  the  old  Quentin  Durward 
courtyard,  on  which  the  old  towers  look  down.  There  is  a 
sound  of  singing — singing  at  midnight.  Is  it  Don  Sombrero, 
who  is  singing  an  Andalusian  seguidilla  under  the  window  of 
the  Flemish  burgomaster's  daughter .?  Ah,  no  !  it  is  a  fat 
Englishman  in  a  zephyr  coat :  he  is  drinking  cold  gin-and-water 
in  the  moonlight,  and  warbling  softly — 

"  Nix  my  dolly,  pals,  fal:e  away, 

N-ix  my  dolly,  pals,  fake  a — a — way."  * 

I  wish  the  good  people  would  knock  off  the  top  part  of 
Antwerp  Cathedral  spire.  Nothing  can  be  more  gracious  and 
elegant  than  the  lines  of  the  first  two  compartments  ;  but  near 
the  top  there  bulges  out  a  little  round,  ugly,  vulgar  Dutch 
monstrosity  (for  which  the  architects  have,  no  doubt,  a  name) 
which  offends  the  eye  cruelly.  Take  the  Apollo,  and  set  upon 
him  a  bob-wig  and  a  little  cocked-hat ;  imagine  "  God  Save 
the  King  "ending  with  a  jig;  fancy  a  polonaise,  or  procession 
of  slim,  stately,  elegant  court  beauties,  headed  by  a  buffoon 
dancing  a  hornpipe.  Marshal  Ge'rard  should  have  discharged 
a  bomb-shell  at  that  abomination,  and  have  given  the  noble 
steeple  a  chance  to  be  finished  in  the  grand  style  of  the  early 
fifteenth  century,  m  which  it  was  begun. 

*  In  1844. 


FROM  RICHMOND  TO  BRUSSELS..  789 

This  style  of  criticism  is  base  and  mean,  and  quite  contrary 
to  tlie  orders  of  the  immortal  Goethe,  who  was  only  for  allow- 
ing the  eye  to  recognize  the  beauties  of  a  great  work,  but  would 
have  its  defects  passed  over.  It  is  an  unhappy,  luckless  or- 
ganization which  will  be  perpetually  fault-finding,  and  in  the 
midst  of  a  grand  concert  of  music  will  persist  only  in  hearing 
that  unfortunate  fiddle  out  of  tune. 

Within — except  where  the  rococo  architects  have  introduced 
their  ornaments  (here  is  the  fiddle  out  of  tune  ^  again) — the 
cathedral  is  noble.  A  rich,  tender  sunshine  is  streaming  in 
through  the  windows,  and  gilding  the  stately  edifice  with  the 
purest  light.  The  admirable  stained-glass  windows  are  not  too 
brilliant  in  their  colors.  The  organ  is  playing  a  rich,  solemn 
music ;  some  two  hundred  people  are  listening  to  the  service  ; 
and  there  is  scarce  one  of  the  women  kneeling  on  her  chair, 
enveloped  in  her  full,  majestic  black  drapery,  that  is  not  a  fine 
study  for  a  painter.  These  large  black  mantles  of  heavy  silk 
brought  over  the  heads  of  the  women,  and  covering  their  persons, 
'  fall  into  such  fine  folds  of  drapery,  that  they  cannot  help  being 
picturesque  and  noble.  See,  kneeling  by  the  side  of'  two  of 
those  fine  devout-looking  figures,  is  a  lady  in  a  little  twiddling 
Parisian  hat  and  feather,  in  a  little  lace  mantelet,  in  a  tight 
gown  and  a  bustle.  She  is  almost  as  monstrous  as  yonder  fig- 
ure of  the  Virgin,  in  a  hoop,  and  with  a  huge  crown  and  a  ball 
and  a  sceptre  ;  and  a  bambino  dressed  in  a  little  hoop,  and  in 
a  little  crown,  round  which  are  clustered  flowers  and  pots  of 
orange-trees,  and  before  which  many  of  the  faithful  are  at 
prayer.  Gentle  clouds  of  incense  come  wafting  through  the 
vast  edifice  ;  and  in  the  lulls  of  the  music  you  hear  the  faint 
chant  of  the  priest,  and  the  silver  tinkle  of  the  bell. 

Six  Englishmen,  with  the  commissionaires,  and  the  "  Mur- 
ray's Guide-books  "  in  their  hands,  are  looking  at  the  "  De- 
scent from  the  Cross."  Of  this  picture  the  "Guide-book" 
gives  you  orders  how  to  judge.  If  it  is  the  end  of  religious 
painting  to  express  the  religious  sentiment,  a  hundred  of  infe- 
rior pictures  must  rank  before  the  Rubens.  Who  was  ever 
piously  affected  by  any  picture  of  the  master  ?  He  can  depict 
a  living  thief  writhing  upon  the  cross,  sometimes  a  blonde 
Magdalen  weeping  below  it ;  but  it  is  a  Magdalen  a  very  short 
time  indeed  after  her  repentance  :  her  yellow  brocades  and 
flaring  satins  are  still  those  which  she  wore  when  she  was  in 
the  world  ;  her  body  has  not  yet  lost  the  marks  of  the  feasting 
and  voluptuousness  in  which  she  used  to  indulge,  according  to 


"^90 


LITTLE  TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCHES. 


the  legend.  Not  one  of  the  Rubens'  pictures  among  all  the 
scores  that  decorate  chapels  and  churches  here,  has  the  least 
tendency  to  purify,  to  touch  the  affections,  or  to  awaken  the 
'feelings  of  religious  respect  and  wonder.  The  "  Descent  from 
the  Cross  "  is  vast,  gloomy,  and  awful ;  but  the  awe  inspired 
l>y  it  is,  as  I  take  it,  altogether  material.  He  might  have 
painted  a  picture  of  any  criminal  broken  on  the  wheel,  and  the 
sensation  inspired  by  it  would  have  been  precisely  similar. 
Nor  in  a  religious  picture  do  you  want  the  savior-faire  of  the 
master  to  be  always  protruding  itself  ;  it  detracts  from  the  feel- 
ing of  reverence,  just  as  the  thumping  of  cushion  and  the  spout- 
ing of  tawdry  oratory  does  from  a  sermon  j  meek  religion  dis- 
appears, shouldered  out  of  the  desk  by  the  pompous,  stalwart, 
big-chested,  fresh-colored,  bushy-whiskered  pulpiteer.  Rubens' 
piety  has  always  struck  us  as  of  this  sort.  If  he  takes  a  pious 
subject,  it  is  to  show  you  in  what  a  fine  way  he,  Peter  Paul 
Rubens,  can  treat  it.  He  never  seems  to  doubt  but  that  he  is 
doing  it  a  great  honor.  His  "  Descent  from  the  Cross  "  and 
its  accompanying  wings  and  cover,  are  a  set  of  puns  upon  the 
word  Christopher,  of  whicli  the  taste  is  more  odious  than  that  of 
the  hooped-petticoated  Virgin  yonder,  with  her  artificial  flowers, 
and  her  rings  and  brooches.  The  people  who  made  an  offer- 
ing of  that  hooped  petticoat  did  their  best,  at  any  rate  ;  they 
knew  no  better.  There  is  humility  in  that  simple,  quaint  pres- 
ent ;  trustfulness  and  kind  intention.  Looking  about  at  other 
altars,  you  see  (much  to  the  horror  of  pious  Protestants)  all 
sorts  of  queer  little  emblems  hanging  up  under  little  pyramids 
of  penny  candles  that  are  sputtering  and  flaring  there.  Here 
you  have  a  silver  arm,  or  a  little  gold  toe,  or  a  wax  leg,  or  a 
gilt  eye,  signifying  and  commemorating  cures  that  have  been 
performed  by  the  supposed  intercession  of  the  saint  over  whose 
chapel  they  hang.  Well,  although  they  are  abominable  suj^er- 
stitions,  yet  these  queer  little  offerings  seem  to  me  to  be  a 
great  deal  more  pious  than  Rubens'  big  pictures ;  just  as  is  the 
widow  with  her  poor  little  mite  compared  to  the  swelling  Phari^ 
see  who  flings  his  purse  of  gold  into  the  plate. 

A  couple  of  days  of  Rubens  and  his  church  pictures  makes 
one  thoroughly  and  entirely  sick  of  him.  His  very  genius  and 
splendor  jDalls  ujDon  one,  even  taking  the  pictures  as  worldly 
pictures.  One  grows  weary  of  being  perpetually  feasted  with 
this  rich,  coarse,  steaming  food.  Considering  them  as  church 
pictures,  I  don't  want  to  go  to  church  to  hear,  however  splen- 
did, an  organ  play  the  "  British  Grenadiers." 


FRORT  RICHMOND  TO  BRUSSELS.  ygi 

The  Antwerpians  have  set  up  a  clumsy  bronze  statue  of 
their  divinity  in  a  square  of  the  town  ;  and  those  who  have  not 
enough  of  Rubens  in  the  churches  may  study  him,  and  indeed 
to  much  greater  advantage,  in  a  good,  well-lighted  museum. 
Here,  there  is  one  picture,  a  dying  saint  taking  the  communion, 
a  large  piece  ten  or  eleven  feet  high,  and  painted  in  an  in- 
credibly short  space  of  time,  which  is  extremely  curious  indeed 
for  the  painter's  study.  The  picture  is  scarcely  more  than  an 
immense  magnificent  sketch  ;  but  it  tells  the  secret  of  the 
artist's  manner,  which,  in  the  midst  of  its  dash  and  splendor,  is 
curiously  methodical.  Where  the  shadows  are  warm  the  lights 
are  cold,  and  vice  versa  ;  and  the  picture  has  been  so  rapidly 
painted,  that  the  tints  lie  raw  by  the  side  of  one  another,  the 
artist  not  having  taken  the  trouble  to  blend  them. 

There  are  two  exquisite  Vandykes  (whatever  Sir  Joshua 
may  say  of  them),  and  in  which  the  very  management  of  the 
gray  tones  which  the  President  abuses  forms  the  principal  ex- 
cellence and  charm.  Why,  after  all,  are  we  not  to  have  our 
opinion  ?  Sir  Joshua  is  not  the  Pope.  The  color  of  one  of 
those  Vandykes  is  as  fine  ^.sjijie  Paul  Veronese,  and  the  senti- 
ment beautifully  tender  and  graceful. 

I  saw,  too,  an  exhibition  of  the  modern  Belgian  artists 
(1843),  the  remembrance  of  whose  pictures  after  a  month's 
absence  has  almost  entirely  vanished.  Wappers'  hand,  as  I 
thought,  seemed  to  have  grown  old  and  feeble,  Verboeck- 
hoven's  cattle-pieces  are  almost  as  good  as  Paul  Potter's,  and 
Keyser  has  dwindled  down  into  namby-pamby  prettiness,  piti- 
ful to  see  in  the  gallant  young  painter  who  astonished  the 
Louvre  artists  ten  years  ago  by  a  hand  almost  as  dashing  and 
ready  as  that  of  Rubens  himself.  There  were  besides  many 
caricatures  of  the  new  German  schools,  which  are  in  themselves 
caricatures  of  the  masters  before  Raphael. 

An  instance  of  honesty  may  be  mentioned  here  with  ap- 
plause. The  writer  lost  a  pocket-book  containing  a  passport 
and  a  couple  of  modest  ten-pound  notes.  The  person  who 
found  the  portfolio  ingeniously  put  it  into  the  box  of  the  post- 
office,  and  it  was  faithfully  restored  to  the  ovv'ner ;  but  some- 
how the  two  ten-pound  notes  were  absent.  It  was,  however,  a 
great  comfort  to  get  the  passport,  and  the  pocket-book,  which 
must  be  worth  about  ninepence. 

Brussels. 

It  was  night  when  we  arrived  by  the  railroad  from  Antwerp 


792      LITTLE   TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCHES, 

at  Brussels  ;  the  route  is  very  pretty  and  interesting,  and  the 
flat  -countries  through  which  the  road  passes  in  the  highest 
state  of  peaceful,  smiling  cultivation.     The  fields  by  the  road- 
side are  enclosed  by  hedges  as  in  England,  the  harvest  was  in 
part  down,  and  an  English  country  gentleman  who  was  of  our 
party  pronounced  the  crops  to  be  as  fine  as  any  he  had  ever 
seen.     Of  this  matter  a  cockney  cannot  judge  accurately,  but 
any  man  can  see  with  what  extraordinary  neatness  and  care  all 
these  little  plots  of  ground  are  tilled,  and  admire  the  richness 
and  brilliancy  of  vegetation.     Outside  of  the  moat  of  Antwerp, 
and  at  every  village  by  which  we  passed,  it  was  pleasant  to  see 
the  happy  congregations  of  well-clad  people  that  basked  in  the 
evening  sunshine,  and  soberly  smoked  their  pipes  and  drank 
their  Flemish  beer.     Men  who  love  this  drink  must,  as  I  fancy, 
have  something  essentially  peaceful  in  their  composition,  and 
must  be  more  easily  satisfied  than  folks  on  our  side  of  the 
water.     The  excitement  of  Flemish  beer  is,  indeed,  not  great. 
I  have  tried  both  the  white  beer  and  the  brown  ;  they  are  both 
of  the  kind  which  schoolboys  denominate  "swipes,"  very  sour 
and  thin  to  the  taste,  but  served,  to  be  sure,  in  quaint  Flemish 
jugs  that  do  not  seem  to  have  changed  their  form  since  the 
days  of  Rubens,  and  must  please  the  lovers  of  antiquarian 
knicknacks.      Numbers    of    comfortable-looking    women    and 
children  sat  beside  the  head  of  the  family  upon  the  tavern- 
benches,  and  it  was  amusing  to  see  one  little  fellow  of  eight 
years  old  smoking,  with  much  gravity,  his  father's  cigar.     How 
the  worship  of  the  sacred  plant  of  tobacco  has  spread  through 
all  Europe  !     I  am  sure  that  the  persons  who  cry  out  against 
the   use   of   it  are  guilty    of  superstition  and  unreason,   and 
that  it  would  be  a  proper  and  easy  task  for  scientific  persons  to 
write  an  encomium  upon  the  weed.     In  solitude  it  is  the  pleas- 
antest  companion  possible,  and  in  company  never  de  trop.     To 
a  student  it  suggests  all  sorts  of  agreeable  thoughts,  it  re- 
freshes the  brain  when  weary,  and  every  sedentary  cigar-smoker 
will  tell  you  how  much  good  he  has  had  from  it,  and  how  he 
has  been  able  to  return  to  his  labor,  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour's 
mild  interval  of  the  delightful   leaf  •  of    Havana.      Drinking 
has  gone  from  among  us  since  smoking  came  in.     It  is  a  wicked 
error  to  say  that  smokers  are  drunkards  ;  drink  they  do,  but  of 
gentle  diluents  mostly,  for  fierce  stimulants  of  wine  or  strong 
liquors  are  abhorrent  to  the  real  lover  of  the  Indian  weed. 
Ah  !  my  Juliana,  join  not  in  the  vulgar  cry  that  is  raised  against 
us.     Cigars  and  cool  drinks  beget  quiet  conversations,  good- 
humor,  meditation;  not  hot  blood  such  as  mounts  into  tho 


FROM  RICHMOiVD  TO  BRUSSELS. 


793 


head  of  drinkers  of  apoplectic  port  or  dangerous  claret.  In- 
deed I  think  so  somewhat  ;  and  many  improvements  of  social 
life  and  converse  must  date  with  the  introduction  of  the  pipe. 

We  were  a  dozen  tobacco-consumers  in  the  wagon  of  the 
train  that  brought  us  from  Antwerp  ;  nor  did  the  women  of  the 
party  (sensible  women!)  make  a  single  objection  to  the  fumiga- 
tion. But  enough  of  this  ;  only  let  me  add,  in  conclusion,  that 
an  excellent  Israelitish  gentleman,  Mr.  Hartog  of  Antwerp, 
supplies  cigars  for  a  penny  apiece,  such  as  are  not  to  be  pro- 
cured in  London  for  four  times  the  sum. 

Through  smiling  corn-fields,  then,  and  by  little  woods  from 
which  rose  here  and  there  the  quaint  peaked  towers  of  some 
old-fashioned  chateaux,  our  train  went  smoking  along  at  thirty 
miles  an  hour.  We  caught  a  glimpse  of  Mechlin  steeple,  at 
first  dark  against  the  sunset,  and  afterwards  bright  as  we  came 
to  the  other  side  of  it,  and  admired  long  glistening  canals  or 
moats  that  surrounded  the  queer  old  town,  and  were  lighted 
up  in  that  wonderful  way  which  the  sun  only  understands,  and 
not  even  Mr.  Turner,  with  all  his  vermilion  and  gamboge,  can 
put  down  on  canvas.  The  verdure  was  everywhere  astonishing, 
and  we  fancied  we  saw  many  golden  Cuyps  as  we  passed  by 
these  quiet  pastures. 

Steam-engines  and  their  accompaniments,  blazing  forges, 
gaunt  manufactories,  with  numberless  windows  and  long  black 
chimneys,  of  course  take  away  from  the  romance  of  the  place  ; 
but,  as  we  whirled  into  Brussels,  even  these  engines  had  a  fine 
appearance.  Three  or  four  of  the  snorting,  galloping  monsters 
had  just  finished  their  journey,  and  there  was  a  quantity  of 
flaming  ashes  lying  under  the  brazen  bellies  of  each  that  looked 
properly  lurid  and  demoniacal.  The  men  at  the  station  came 
out  with  flaming  torches — awful-looking  fellows  indeed  !  Pres- 
ently the  ditTerent  baggage  was  handed  out,  and  in  the  very 
worst  vehicle  I  ever  entered,  and  at  the  very  slowest  pace,  we 
were  borne  to  the  "  Hotel  de  Suede,"  from  which  house  -of 
entertainment  this  letter  is  written. 

We  strolled  into  the  town,  but,  though  the  night  was  exces- 
sively fine  and  it  was  not  yet  eleven  o'clock,  the  streets  of  the 
little  capital  were  deserted,  and  the  handsome  blazing  cafes 
round  about  the  theatres  contained  no  inmates.  Ah,  what  a 
pretty  sight  is  the  Parisian  Boulevard  on  a  night  like  this  !  how 
many  pleasant  hours  has  one  passed  in  watching  the  lights, 
and  the  hum,  and  the  stir,  and  the  laughter  of  those  happy, 
idle  people  !  There  was  none  of  this  gayety  here  ;  nor  was 
there  a  person  to  be  found,  except  a  skulking  commissioner  or 


794 


LITTLE  TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCHES. 


two  (whose  real  name  in  French  is  that  of  a  fish  that  is  eaten 
with  fennel-sauce),  and  who  offered  to  conduct  us  to  certain 
curiosities  in  the  town.  What  must  we  English  not  have  done, 
thar  in  every  town  in  Europe  we  are  to  be  fixed  upon  by  scoun- 
drels of  this  sort ;  and  what  a  pretty  reflection  it  is  on  our 
country  that  such  rascals  find  the  means  of  living  on  us  ! 

Early  the  next  morning  we  walked  through  a  number  of 
streets  in  the  place,  and  saw  certain  sights.     The  Park  is  very 
pretty,  and  all  the  buildings  round  about  it  have  an  air  of  neat- 
ness— almost  of  stateliness.     The  houses  are  tall,  the   streets 
spacious,  and  the  roads  extremely  clean.     In  the  Park  is  a  little 
theatre,  a  cafe  somewhat  ruinous,  a  little  palace  for  the  king  of 
this  little  kingdom,  some  smart  public  buildings  (with   S.  P.  Q. 
B.  emblazoned  on  them,  at  which  pompous  inscription  one  can- 
not help  laughing),  and  other  rows  of  houses  somewhat  resem- 
bling a  little  Rue  de  Rivoli.     Whether  from   my  own   natural 
greatness  and  magnanimity,  or  from  that  handsome  share  of 
national  conceit  that  every  Englishman  possesses,  my  impress- 
ions of  this  city  are  certainly  anything  but  respectful.     It  has 
an  absurd  kind  of  Lilliput  look  with  it.     There   are  soldiers, 
just  as  in  Paris,  better  dressed,  and  doing  a  vast  deal  of  drum- 
ming and  bustle  ;  and  yet,  somehow,  far  from  being  frightened 
at  them,   I  feel  inclined  to  laugh  in  their  faces.     There  are 
little  Ministers,  who  work  at  their  little  bureSux  ;  and  to   read 
the  journals,  how   fierce  they  are  !     A  great  thundering  Tunes 
could   hardly  talk  more  big.     One  reads  about   the  rascally 
Ministers,  the  miserable  Opposition,   the  designs    of  tyrants, 
the  eyes  of   Europe,  &c.,  just  as  one  would  in  real  journals. 
The  Moniteur  of  Ghent  belabors  the  Indeperident  of  Brussels  ; 
the ///.'/^/'dV/^/dV// falls  foul  of  the  Z>'«:v/ and  really  it  is   difficult 
not  to   suppose  sometimes    that   these  worthy  people    are  in 
earnest.     And  j-et  how  happy  were  they  sua  si  bona  7tdrint ! 
Think  what  a  comfort  it  would  be   to  belong  to  a  little  state 
like   this  ;  not  to  abuse  their  privilege,  but  philosophically  to 
use  it.     If  I  were   a  Belgian,  I  would  not  care  one  single   fig 
about  politics.     I  would  not  read  thundering  leading  articles. 
I  would  not  have  an  opinion.     What's  the  use  of  an  opinion 
here  ?     Happy  fellows  !  do  not  the  French,  the  English,  and 
the  Prussians,  spare  them  the  trouble  of  thinking,  and  make  all 
their  opinions  for  them  ?     Think  of  living  in  a  country  free, 
easy,   respectable,  wealthy,  and  with  the  nuisance  of  talking 
politics  removed  from  out  of  it.     All  this  might  the  Belgians 
have,  and   a  part  do  they  enjoy,  but  not  the  best  part;  no, 


FROM  RICHMOND   TO  BRUSSELS. 


795 


these  people  will  be  brawling  and  by  the  ears,  and  parties  rua 
as  high  here  as  at  Stoke  Pogis  or  little  Pedlington. 

These  sentiments  were  elicited  by  the  reading  of  a  paper  at 
the  cafe  in  the  Park,  where  we  sat  under  the  trees  for  a  while 
and  sipped  our  cool  lemonade.  Numbers  of  statues  decorate 
the  place,  the  very  worst  I  ever  saw.  These  Cupids  must  have 
been  erected  in  the  time  of  the  Dutch  dynasty,  as  I  judge  from 
the  immense  posterior  developments.  Indeed  the  arts  cf  the 
country  are  very  low.  The  statues  here,  and  the  lions  before 
the  Prince  of  Orange's  palace,  would  disgrace  almost  the  figure- 
]iead  of  a  ship. 

Of  course  we  paid  our  visit  to  this  little  lion  of  Brussels 
(the  Prince's  palace,  I  mean).  The  architecture  of  the  building 
is  admirably  simple  and  firm  ;  and  you  remark  about  it,  and 
all  other  works  here,  a  high  finish  in  doors,  wood-v/orks,  paint- 
ings, &c.,  that  one  does  not  see  in  France,  where  the  buildings 
are  often  rather  sketched  than  completed,  and  the  artist  seems 
to  neglect  the  limbs,  as  it  were,  and  extremities  of  his  figures. 

The  finish  of  this  little  place  is  exquisite.  We  went  through 
some  dozen  of  state-rooms,  paddling  along  over  the  slippery 
floors  of  inlaid  woods  in  great  slippers,  without  which  we  must 
have  come  to  the  ground.  How  did  his  Royal  Highness  the 
Prince  of  Orange  manage  when  he  lived  here,  and  her  Imperial 
Highness  the  Princess,  and  their  excellencies  the  chamberlains 
and  the  footmen  ?  They  must  have  been  on  their  tails  many 
times  a  day,  that's  certain,  and  must  have  cut  queer  figures. 

The  ballroom  is  beautiful — all  marble,  and  yet  with  a  com- 
fortable, cheerful  look  ;  the  other  apartments  are  not  less- 
agreeable,  and  the  people  looked  with  intense  satisfaction  at 
6ome  great  lapis-lazuli  tables,  which  the  guide  informed  us 
were  worth  four  millions,  more  or  less  ;  adding  with  a  very 
knowing  lr>ok,  that  they  were  un  peu  plus  chcr  que  Tor.  This 
speech  has  a  tremendous  effect  on  visitors,  and  when  we  met 
some  of  our  steamboat  companions  in  the  Park  or  elsewhere 
■ — in  so  small  a  place  as  this  one  falls  in  with  them  a  dozen 
times  a  day — "  Have  you  seen  the  tables  ?  "  was  the  general 
question.  Prodigious  tables  are  they,  indeed  !  Fancy  a  table, 
my  dear — a  table  four  feet  wide — a  table  with  legs.  Ye  heavens  ! 
the  mind  can  hardly  picture  to  itself  anything  so  beautiful  and 
so  tremendous ! 

There  are  some  good  pictures  in  the  palace,  too,  but  not  so 
extraordinarily  good  as  the  guide-books  and  the  guide  would 
have  us  to  think.  The  latter,  like  most  men  of  his  class,  is  an 
ignoramuSj  who    showed   us  an    Andrea   del    Sarto  (copy   or 

5i 


7(j6      LITTLE  TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCHES. 

original),  and  called  it  a  Correggio,  and  made  odier  blunders 
of  a  like  nature.  As  is  the  case  in  England,  you  are  hurried 
through  the  rooms  without  being  allowed  time  to  look  at  the 
pictures,  and,  consequently  to  pronounce  a  satisfactory  judgment 
on  them. 

In  the  Museum  more  time  was  granted  me,  and  I  spent 
some  hours  with  pleasure  there.  It  is  an  absurd  little  gallery, 
absurdly  imitating  the  Louvre,  with  just  such  compartments 
and  pillars  as  you  see  in  the  noble  Paris  gallery  ;  only  here 
the  pillars  and  capitals  are  stucco  and  white  in  place  of  mar- 
ble and  gold,  and  plaster-of-paris  busts  of  great  Belgians  are 
placed  between  the  pillars.  An  artist  of  the  country  has  made 
a  picture  containing  them,  and  you  will  be  ashamed  of  your 
ignorance  when  you  hear  many  of  their  names.  Old  Tilly  of 
INIagdeburg  figures  in  one  corner  ;  Rubens,  the  endless  Rubens, 
stands  in  the  midst.  What  a  noble  countenance  it  is,  and 
what  a  nianly,  swaggering  consciousness  of  power  ! 

The  picture  to  see  here  is  a  portrait,  by  the  great  Peter 
Paul,  of  one  of  the  governesses  of  the  Netherlands.  It  is  just 
the  finest  portrait  that  ever  was  seen.  Only  a  half-length,  but 
such  a  majesty,  such  a  force,  such  a  splendor,  such  a  simplicity 
about  it  !  The  woman  is  in  a  stiff  black  dress,  with  a  ruff  and 
a  few  pearls  ;  a  yellow  curtain  is  behind  her — the  simplest 
arrangement  that  can  be  conceived  ;  but  this  great  man  knew 
how  to  rise  to  his  occasion  ;  and  no  better  proof  can  be  shown 
of  what  a  fine  gentleman  he  was  than  this  his  homage  to  the 
vice-Queen.  A  common  bungler  would  have  painted  her  in 
her  best  clothes,  with  crown  and  sceptre,  just  as  our  Queen 
has  been  painted  by  —  but  comparisons  are  odious.  Here 
stands  this  majestic  v/oman  in  her  every -day  working-dress  of 
black  satin,  looking  your  hat  off,  as  it  were.  Another  portrait 
of  the  same  personage  hangs  elsewhere  in  the  gallery,  and  it  is 
curious  to  observe  the  difiference  between  the  two,  and  see 
how  a  man  of  genius  paints  a  portrait,  and  how  a  common 
limner  executes  it. 

Many  more  pictures  are  there  here  by  Rubens,  or  rather 
from  Rubens'  manufactory, — odious  and  vulgar  most  of  them 
are  ;  fat  Magdalens,  coarse  Saints,  vulgar  Virgins,  with  the 
scene-painter's  tricks  far  too  evident  upon  the  canvas.  By  the 
side  of  one  of  the  most  astonishing  color-pieces  in  the  world, 
the  "  Worshipping  of  the  Magi,"  is  a  famous  picture  of  Paul 
Veronese  that  cannot  be  too  much  admired.  As  Rubens 
sought  in  the  first  picture  to  dazzle  and  astonish  by  gorgeous 
variety,  Paul  in  this  seems  to  wish  to  get  his  effect  by  simpli- 


FROM  RICHMOND  TO  BRUSSELS. 


797 


city,  and  has  produced  the  most  noble  harmony  that  can  be 
conceived.  Many  more  works  are  there  that  merit  notice, — a 
singularly  clever,  brilliant,  and  odious  Jordaens,  for  example ; 
some  curious  costume-pieces  ;  one  or  two  works  by  the  Belgian 
Raphael,  who  was  a  very  Belgian  Raphael  indeed ;  and  a  long, 
gallery  of  the  very  oldest  school,  that,  doubtless,  afford  much 
pleasure  to  the  amateurs  of  ancient  art.  I  confess  that  I  am 
inclined  to  believe  in  very  little  that  existed  before  the  time  of 
Raphael.  There  is,  for  instance,  the  Prince  of  Orange's  pic- 
ture by  Perugino,  very  pretty  indeed,  up  to  a  certain  point,  but 
all  the  heads  are  repeated,  all  the  drawing  is  bad  and  affected  ; 
and  this  very  badness  and  affectation  is  what  the  so-called 
Catholic  school  is  always  anxious  to  imitate.  Nothing  can  be 
more  juvenile  or  paltry  than  the  works  of  the  native  Belgians 
here  exhibited.  Tin  crowns  are  suspended  over  many  of  them, 
showing  that  the  pictures  are  prize  compositions  :  and  pretty 
things,  indeed,  they  are  !  Have  you  ever  read  an  Oxford 
prize-poem  ?  Well,  these  pictures  are  worse  even  than  the 
Oxford  poems — an  awful  assertion  to  make. 

In  the  matter  of  eating,  dear  sir,  which  is  the  next  subject 
of  the  fine  arts,  a  subject  that,  after  many  hours'  walking,  at- 
tracts a  gentleman  very  much,  let  me  attempt  to  recall  the 
transactions  of  this  very  day  at  the  table-d''hbte.  i,  green  pea- 
soup  ;  2,  boiled  salmon  ;  3,  mussels ;  4,  crimped  skate  ;  5, 
roast-meat;  6,  patties;  7,  melon;  8,  carp,  stewed  with  mush- 
rooms and  onions;  9,  roast-turkey;  10,  cauliflower  and  butter; 
II,  fillets  cf  venison  piques,  with  asafoetida  sauce  ;  12,  stewed 
calf 's-ear ;  13,  roast-veal ;  14,  roast-lamb;  15,  stewed  cherries  ; 
16,  rice-pudding;  17,  Gruyere  cheese,  and  about  twenty-four 
cakes  of  different  kinds.  Except  5,  13,  and  14,  I  give  you  my 
word  I  ate  of  all  written  down  here,  with  three  rolls  of  bread 
and  a  score  of  potatoes.  What  is  the  meaning  of  it  ?  How  is 
the  stomach  of  man  brought  to  desire  and  to  receive  all  this 
quantity  ?  Do  not  gastronomists  complain  of  heaviness  in  Lon- 
don after  eating  a  couple  of  mutton-chops  ?  Do  not  respect- 
r.l)le  gentlemen  fall  asleep  in  their  arm-chairs  ?  Are  they  fit 
fcr  mental  labor  ?  Far  from  it.  But  look  at  the  difference 
h.ere  :  after  dinner  here  one  is  as  light  as  a  gossamer.  One 
walks  with  pleasure,  reads  with  pleasure,  writes  with  pleasure 
— nay,  there  is  the  supper-bell  going  at  ten  o'clock,  and  plenty 
of  eaters,  too.  Let  lord  mayors  and  aldermen  look  to  it,  this 
fact  of  the  extraordinary  increase  of  appetite  in  Belgium,  and, 
instead  of  steaming  to  Blackwall,  come  a  little  further  to  Ant- 
werp^ 


'jcjH      LITTLE    TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  Sk'ETCHES 

Of  ancient  architectures  in  tlie  place,  there  is  a  fine  old 
Port  de  Halle,  which  has  a  tall,  gloomy,  bastile  look  ;  a  most 
magnificent  town-hall,  that  has  been  sketched  a  thousand  of 
times,  and  opposite  ii,  a  buikhng  that  I  think  would  be  the  very 
model  for  a  Conservative  club-house  in  London.  Oh  !  how 
cliarming  it  would  be  to  be  a  great  painter,  and  give  the  charac- 
ter of  the  building,  and  the  numberless  groups  round  about  it. 
The  booths  lighted  up  by  the  sun,  the  market-women  in  their 
gowns  of  brilliant  hue,  each  group  having  a  character  and  tell- 
ing its  little  story,  the  troops  of  men  lolling  in  all  sorts  of  ad- 
mirable attitudes  of  ease  round  the  great  lamp.  Half  a  dozen 
light-blue  dragoons  are  lounging  about,  and  peeping  over  the 
artist  as  the  drawing  is  made,  and  the  sky  is  more  bright  and 
blue  than  one  sees  it  in  a  hundred  years  in  London. 

The  priests  of  the  country  are  a  remarkably  well-fed  and 
respectable  race,  without  that  scowling,  hang-dog  look  which 
one  has  remarked  among  reverend  gentlemen  in  the  neighbor- 
ing country  of  France.  Their  reverences  wear  buckles  to  their 
shoes,  light-blue  neck-cloths,  and  huge  three-cornered  hats  in 
good  condition.  To-day,  strolling  by  the  cathedral,  I  heard 
the. tinkling  of  a  bell  in  the  street,  and  beheld  certain  persons, 
mate  and  female,  suddenly  plump  down  on  their  knees  before 
little  procession  that  was  passing.  Two  men  in  black  held  a 
tawdr}'-  red  canopy,  a  priest  walked  beneath  it  holding  the 
sacrament  covered  with  a  cloth,  and  before  him  marched  a 
couple  of  little  altar-boys  in  short  white  surplices,  such  as  you 
see  in  Rubens,  and  holding  lackered  lamps.  A  small  train  of 
street-boys  followed  the  procession,  cap  in  hand,  and  the  clergy- 
man  finally  entered  a  hospital  for  old  women,  near  the  church, 
the  canopy  and  the  lamp-bearers  remaining  without. 

It  was  a  touching  scene,  and  as  I  stayed  to  watch  it,  I  could 
not  but  think  of  the  poor  old  soul  who  was  dying  within,  listen- 
ing to  the  last  words  of  prayer,  led  by  the  hand  of  the  priest  to 
to  the  brink  of  the  black,  fathomless  grave.  How  bright  the 
sun  was  shining  without  all  the  time,  and  how  happy  and  care- 
less everything  around  us  looked  ! 

The  Duke  d'Arcnberg  has  a  picture-gallery  worthy  of  his 
princely  house.  It  does  not  contain  great  pieces,  but  tit-bits 
of  pictures,  such  as  suit  an  aristocratic  epicure.  For  such  per- 
sons a  great  huge  canvas  is  too  much,  it  is  like  sitting 'diyvvn 
alone  to  a  roasted  ox  ;  and  they  do  wisely,  I  think,  to  patronize 
small,  high-flavored,  delicate  fuoncaux,  such  as  the  Duke  had 
here. 


FROM  RICHMOND  TO  BRUSSELS,  799 

Anong  them  may  be  mentioned,  with  special  praise,  a 
magniticent  small  Rembrandt,  a  Paul  Potter  of  exceeding 
minuteness  and  beauty,  an  Ostade,  which  reminds  one  of 
Wilkic's  early  performances,  and  a  Dusart  quite  as  good  as 
Ostade.  There  is  a  Berghem,  much  more  unaffected  than  that 
artist's  works  generally  are;  and,  what  is  more  precious  in  the 
eyes  of  many  ladies  as  an  object  of  art,  there  is,  in  one  of  the 
grand  saloons,  some  needlework  done  by  the  Duke's  own  grand- 
mother, which  is  looked  at  with  awe  by  those  admitted  to  see 
the  palace. 

The  chief  curiosity,  if  not  the  chief  ornament  of  a  very 
elegant  library,  filled  with  vases  and  bronzes,  is  a  marble  head, 
sup[X)sed  to  be  the  original  head  of  the  Laocoon.  It  is,  un- 
questionably, a  finer  head  than  that  which  at  present  figures 
upon  the  shoulders  of  the  famous  statue.  The  expression  of 
woe  is  more  manly  and  intense  ;  in  the  group  as  we  know  it, 
the  head  of  the  principal  figure  has  always  seemed  to  me  to  be 
a  grimace  of  grief,  as  are  the  two  accompanying  young  gentle- 
men with  their  pretty  attitudes,  and  their  little  silly,  open- 
mouthed  despondency.  It  has  always  had  upon  me  the  eflect 
of  a  trick,  that  statue,  and  not  of  a  piece  of  true  art.  It  would 
look  well  in  the  vista  of  a  garden ;  it  is  not  august  enough  for 
a  temple,  with  all  its  jerks,  and  twirls,  and  polite  convulsion^; 
But  who  knows  what  susceptibilities  such  a  confession  may 
offend  ?  Let  us  say  no  more  about  the  Laocoon,  nor  its  head, 
nor  its  tail.  The  Duke  was  offered  its  weight  in  gold,  they 
say,  for  this  head,  and  refused.  It  would  be  a  shame  to  speak 
ill  of  such  a  treasure,  but  I  have  my  opinion  of  the  man  who 
made  the  offer. 

In  the  matter  of  sculpture  almost  all  the  Brussels  churches 
are  decorated  with  the  most  laborious  wooden  pulpits,  which 
may  be  worth  their  weight  in  gold,  too,  for  what  I  know,  in- 
cluding his  reverence  preaching  inside.  At  St.  Gudule  the 
preacher  mounts  into  no  less  a  place  than  the  garden  of  Eden, 
being  supported  by  Adam  and  Eve,  by  Sin  and  Death,  and 
numberless  other  animals  ;  he  walks  up  to  his  desk  by  a  rustic 
railing  of  llowers,  fruits,  and  vegetables,  with  wooden  peacocks, 
paroquets,  monkeys  biting  apples,  and  many  more  of  the  birds 
and  beasts  of  the  field.  In  another  church  the  clergyman 
speaks  from  out  a  hermitage  ;  in  a  third  from  a  carved  palm- 
tree  which  supports  a  set  of  oak  clouds  that  form  the  canopy 
of  tne  pulpit,  and  are,  indeed,  not  much  heavier  in  appearance 
than  so  many  huge  sponges.  A  priest,  however  tall  or  stout, 
must  be  lost  in  the  midst  of  all  these  queer  gimcracks ;  in 


goo     LITTLE  TRAVELS  AiVD  ROAD-SIDE  SA'ETCHES. 

order  to  be  consistent,  they  ought  to  dress  him  up,  too,  in  some 
odd  fantastical  suit.  I  can  fancy  the  Curtf  of  Meudon  preach- 
ing out  of  such  a  place,  or  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  or  that 
famous  clergyman  of  the  time  of  the  League,  who  brought  all 
Paris  to  laugh  and  listen  to  him. 

.  .  \ 

But  let  us  not  be  too  supercilious  and  ready  to  sneer.    It  is 

only  bad  taste.  It  may  have  been  very  true  devotion  which 
erected  these  strange  edifices. 


II. — Ghent — Bruges. 
GHENT.     (1840.) 


The  Beguine  College  or  Village  is  one  of  the  most  extraor- 
dinary sights  that  all  Europe  can  show.  On  the  confines  of 
the  town  of  Ghent  you  come  upon  an  old-fashioned  brick  gate, 
that  seems  as  if  it  were  one  of  the  city  barriers  ;  but,  on  pass- 
ing it,  one  of  the  prettiest  sights  possible  meets  the  eye  :  At 
the  porter's  lodge  you  see  an  old  lady,  in  black  and  a  wliite 
hood,  occupied  over  her  book  ;  before  you  is  a  red  church  with 
■a  tall  roof  and  fantastical  Dutch  pinnacles,  and  all  around  it 
rows  upon  rows  of  small  houses,  the  queerest,  neatest,  nicest 
that  ever  were  seen  (a  doll's  house  is  hardly  smaller  or  jDrettier). 
Right  and  left,  on  each  side  of  little  alleys,  these  little  -man- 
sions rise  ;  they  have  a  courtlet  before  them  in  which  some 
■green  plants  or  hollyhocks  are  growling  j  and  to  each  house  is 
a  gate  that  has  mostly  a  picture  or  queer-carved  ornament  upon 
or  about  it,  and  bears  the  name,  not  of  the  Be'guine  who  in- 
habits it,  but  of  the  saint  to  whom  she  may  have  devoted  it-^ 
the  house  of  St.  Stephen,  the  house  of  St.  Donatus,  the  Eng- 
lish or  Angel  Convent,  and  so  on.  Old  ladies  in  black  are 
pacing  in  the  quiet  alleys  here  and  there,  and  drop  the  stranger 
a  curtsey  as  he  passes  them  and  takes  off  his  hat.  Never  were 
•such  patterns  of  neatness  seen  as  these  old  ladies  and  their 
houses.  I  peeped  into  one  or  two  of  the  chambers,  of  whiciv 
the  windows  were  open  to  the  pleasant  evening  sun,  and  saw 
beds  scrupulously  plain,  a  quaint  old  chair  or  two,  and  little 
pictures  of  favorite  saints  decorating  the  spotless  white  walls. 
The  old  ladies  kept  up  a  quick,  cheerful  clatter,  as  they  paused 
to  gossip  at  the  gates  of  their  little   domiciles;  and  with  a 


GHENT.  80 1 

great  deal  of  artifice,  and  larking  behind  walls,  and  looking  at 
the  church  as  if  I  intended  to  design  that,  I  managed  to  get  a 
sketch  of  a  couple  of  them. 

But  what  white  paper  can  render  the  whiteness  of  their 
linen  ;  what  black  ink  can  do  justice  to  the  lustre  of  their 
gowns  and  shoes  ?  Both  of  the  ladies  had  a  neat  ankle  and  a 
tight  stocking  ;  and  I  fancy  that  heaven  is  quite  as  well  served 
in  this  costume  as  in  the  dress  of  a  scowling,  stockingless  friar, 
whom  I  had  seen  passing  just  before.  The  look  and  dress  of 
the  man  made  me  shudder.  His  great  red  feet  were  bound  up 
in  a  shoe  open  at  the  toes,  a  kind  of  compromise  for  a  sandal. 
I  had  just  seen  him  and  his  brethren  at  the  Dominican  Church, 
where  a  mass  of  music  was  sung,  and  orange-trees,  flags,  and 
banners  decked  the  aisles  of  the  church. 

One  begins  to  grow  sick  of  these  churches,  and  the  hideous 
exhibitions  of  bodily  agonies  that  are  depicted  on  the  sides  of 
all  the  chapels.  Into  one  wherein  we  went  this  morning  was 
what  they  called  a  Calvar}^ :  a  horrible  ghastly  image  of  a 
Christ  in  a  tomb,  the  figure  of  the  natural  size,  and  of  the 
livid  color  of  death  ;  gaping  red  wounds  on  the  body  and  round 
the  brows  :  the  whole  piece  enough  to  turn  one  sick,  and  fit 
only  to  brutalize  the  beholder  of  it.  The  Virgin  is  commonly 
represented  with  a  dozen  swords  stuck  in  her  heart ;  bleeding 
throats  of  headless  John  Baptists  are  perpetually  thrust  before 
your  eyes.  At  the  Cathedral  gate  was  a  papier-mache  church- 
ornament  shop — most  of  the  carvings  and  reliefs  of  the  same 
dismal  character  :  One,  for  instance,  represented  a  heart  with 
a  great  gash  in  it,  and  a  double  row  of  large  blood-drops  drib- 
bling from  it ;  nails  and  a  knife  were  thrust  into  the  heart ; 
round  the  whole  was  a  crown  of  thorns.  Such  things  are 
dreadful  to  think  of.  The  same  gloomy  spirit  which  made  a 
religion  of  them,  and  worked  upon  the  people  by  the  grossest 
of  all  means,  terror,  distracted  the  natural  feelings  of  man  to 
maintain  its  power — shut  gentle  women  into  lonely,  pitiless 
convents — frightened  poor  peasants  with  tales  of  torment — 
taught  that  the  end  and  labor  of  life  was  silence,  wretchedness, 
and  the  scourge — murdered  those  by  fire  and  prison  who 
thought  otherwise.  How  has  the  blind  and  furious  bigotry  of 
man  perverted  that  which  God  gave  us  as  our  greatest  boon, 
and  bid  us  hate  where  God  bade  U3  love  !  Thank  heaven  that 
monk  has  gone  out  of  sight!  It  is  pleasant  to  look  at  the 
smiling,  cheerful  old  Be'guine  and  think  no  more  of  yonder 
livid  face. 


So2      LITTLE  TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCHES. 

One  of  the  many  convents  in  this  little  religious  city  seems 
to  be  the  specimen-house,  which  is  shown  to  strangers,  for  all 
the  guides  conduct  you  hither,  and  I  saw  in  a  book  kept  for 
the  purpose  the  names  of  innumerable  Smiths  and  Joneses 
registered. 

A  very  kind,  sweet-voiced,  smiling  nun  (I  wonder,  do  they 
always  choose  the  most  agreeable  and  best-humored  sister  of 
the  house  to  show  it  to  strangers  ?)  came  tripping  down  the 
steps  and  across  the  flags  of  the'  little  garden-court,  and  wel- 
comed us  with  much  courtesy  into  the  neat  little  old-fashioned, 
red-bricked,  gable-ended,  shining-windowed  Convent  of  the 
Angels.  First  she  showed  us  a  whitewashed  parlor,  decorated 
with  a  grim  picture  or  two  and  some  crucifixes  and  other  relig- 
ious emblems,  where,  upon  stiff  old  chairs,  the  sisters  sit  and 
work.  Three  or  four  of  them  were  still  there,  pattering  over 
their  laces  and  bobbins  ;  but  the  chief  part  of  the  sisterhood 
were  engaged  in  an  apartment  hard  by,  from  which  issued  a 
certain  odor  which  I  must  say  resembled  onions  :  it  was  in 
fact  the  kitchen  of  the  establishment. 

Every  Be'guine  cooks  her  own  little  dinner  in  her  own  little 
pipkin  ;  and  there  was  half  a  score  of  them,  sure  enough,  busy- 
over  their  pots  and  crockery,  cooking  a  repast  which,  when 
ready,  was  carried  off  to  a  neighboring  room,  the  refectory, 
where,  at  a  ledge-table  which  is  drawn  out  from  under  her 
own  particular  cupboard,  each  nun  sits  down  and  eats  her 
meal  in  silence.  More  religious  emblems  ornamented  the 
carved  cupboard  doors,  and  within,  everything  was  as  neat 
as  neat  could  be  :  shining  pewter  ewers  and  glasses,  snug 
baskets  of  eggs  and  pats  of  butter,  and  little  bowls  with  about 
a  farthing's-worth  of  green  tea  in  them — for  some  great  day  of 
fete,  doubtless.  The  old  ladies  sat  round  as  we  examined  these 
things,  each  eating  soberly  at  her  ledge  and  never  looking 
round.  There  was  a  bell  ringing  in  the  chapel  hard  by. 
"  Hark  !  "  said  our  guide,  "  that  is  one  of  the  sisters  dying, 
Will  you  come  and  see  the  cells  ?  " 

The  cells,  it  need  not  be  said,  are  the  snuggest  little  nests 

in  the  world,  with  serge-curtained  beds  and  snowy  linen,  and 

saints  and  martyrs  pinned  against  the  wall.     "  We  may  sit  up 

11  twelve  o'clock,  if  we  like,"  said  the  nun  ;  "  but  we  have  no 

re  and  candle,  and  so  what's  the  use  of  sitting  up  ?     When 

we  have  said  our  prayers  we  are  glad  enough  to  go  to  sleep." 

I  forget,  although  the  good  soul  told  us,  how  many  times 
the  day,  in  public  and  in  private,  these  devotions  are  made, 
"  fancy  that  the  morning  service  in  the  chapel  takes  place  at 


GHENT. 


803 


too  early  an  hour  for  most  easy  travellers.  We  did  not  fail  to 
attend  in  the  evening,  when  likewise  is  a  general  muster  of  the 
seven  hundred,  minus  the  absent  and  sick,  and  the  sight  is  not 
a  little  striking  to  a  stranger. 

The  chapel  is  a  very  big  whitewashed  place  of  worship, 
supported  by  half  a  dozen  columns  on  either  side,  over  each  of 
which  stands  the  statue  of  an  Apostle,  with  his  emblem  of 
martyrdom.  Nobody  was  as  yet  at  the  distant  altar,  which  was 
too  far  off  to  see  very  distinctly ;  but  I  could  perceive  two 
statues  over  it,  one  of  which  (St.  Lawrence,  no  doubt)  was 
leaning  upon  a  huge  gilt  gridiron  that  the  sun  lighted  up  in  a 
blaze — a  painful  but  not  a  romantic  instrument  of  death.  A 
couple  of  old  ladies  in  white  hoods  were  tugging  and  swaying 
about  at  two  bell-ropes  that  came  down  in  the  middle  of  the 
church,  and  at  least  five  hundred  others  ini  white  veils  were 
seated  all  round  about  us  in  mute  contemplation  until  the  ser- 
vice began,  looking  very  solemn,  and  white,  and  ghastly,  like 
an  army  of  tombstones  by  moonlight. 

The  service  commenced  as  the  clock  finished  striking  seven  : 
the  organ  pealed  out,  a  very  cracked  and  old  one,  and  presently 
some  weak  old  voice  from  the  choir  overhead  quavered  out  a 
canticle  ;  which  done,  a  thin  old  voice  of  a  priest  at  the  altar 
far  off  (and  which  had  now  become  quite  gloomy  in  the  sunset) 
chanted  feebly  another  part  of  the  service  ;  then  the  nuns 
warbled  once  more  overhead  ;  and  it  was  curious  to  hear,  in 
the  intervals  of  the  most  lugubrious  chants,  how  the  organ 
went  off  with  some  extremely  cheerful  military  or  profane  air. 
At  one  time  was  a  march,  at  another  a  quick  tune  ;  which  ceas- 
ing, the  old  nuns  began  again,  and  so  sung  until  the  service  was 
ended. 

In  the  midst  of  it  one  of  the  white-veiled  sisters  approached 
us  with  a  very  mysterious  air,  and  put  down  her  white  veil 
close  to  our  ears  and  whispered.  Were  we  doing  anything 
wrong,  I  wondered  ?  Were  they  come  to  that  part  of  the  ser- 
vice where  heretics  and  infidels  ought  to  quit  the  church  ? 
What  have  you  to  ask,  O  sacred  white-veiled  maid  ? 

All  she  said  was,  "  Deux  centifemes  pour  les  suisses,"  which 
sum  was  paid  ;  and  presently  the  old  ladies,  rising  from  their 
chairs  one  by  one,  came  in  face  of  the  altar,  where  they  knelt 
down  and  said  a  short  prayer:  then,  rising,  unpinned  iheir 
veils,  and  folded  them  up  exactly  in  the  same  folds  and  fashion, 
and  laid  them  square  like  napkins  on  their  heads,  and  tucked 
up  their  long  black  outer  dresses,  and  trudged  off  to  their  coi> 
vents. 


8 04      LITTLE   TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCHES. 

The  novices  wear  black  veils,  under  one  of  which  I  saw  a 
young,  sad,  handsome  face  ;  it  was  the  only  thing  in  the  estab- 
lishment that  was  the  least  romantic  or  gloomy  :  and,  for  the 
sake  of  any  reader  of  a  sentimental  turn,  let  us  hope  that  the 
poor  soul  has  been  crossed  in  love,  and  that  over  some  soul- 
stirring  tragedy  that  black  curtain  has  fallen. 

Ghent  has,  I  believe,  been  called  a  vulgar  Venice.  It  con- 
tains dirty  canals  and  old  houses  that  must  satisfy  the  most 
eager  antiquary,  though  the  buildings  are  not  quite  in  so  good 
preservation  as  others  that  may  be  seen  in  the  Netherlands. 
The  commercial  bustle  of  the  place  seems  considerable,  raid  it 
contains  more  beer-shops  than  any  city  I  ever  saw. 

These  beer-shops  seem  the  only  amusements  of  the  inhab- 
itants, until,  at  least,  the  theatre  shall  be  built,  of  which  the 
elevation  is  now  complete,  a  very  handsome  and  extensive  pile. 
There  are  beer-shops  in  the  cellars  of  the  houses,  which  are 
frequented,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  by  the  lower  sort ;  there  are 
beer-shops  at  the  barriers,  where  the  citizens  and  their  families 
repair  ;  and  beer-shops  in  the  town,  glaring  with  gas,  M'ith  long 
gauze  blinds,  however,  to  hide  what  I  hear  is  a  rather  question- 
able reputation. 

Our  inn,  the  "  Hotel  of  the  Post,"  a  spacious  and  comfort- 
able residence,  is  on  a  little  place  planted  round  with  trees, 
and  that  seems  to  be  the  Palais  Royal  of  the  town.  Tlirce 
clubs,  which  look  from  without  to  be  very  comfortable,  orna- 
ment this  square  with  their  gas  lamps.  Here  stands,  too,  the 
theatre  that  is  to  be  ;  there  is  a  cafe,  and  on  evenings  a  mili- 
tary band  plays  the  very  worst  music  I  ever  remember  to  have 
heard.  I  went  out  to-night  to  take  a  quiet  walk  upon  this 
place,  and  the  horrid  brazen  discord  of  these  trumpeters  set  me 
half  mad. 

I  went  to  the  cafe'  for  refuge,  passing  on  the  way  a  subter- 
raneous beer-shop,  where  men  and  women  were  drinking  to  the 
sweet  music  of  a  cracked  barrel-organ.  They  take  in  a  couple 
of  French  papers  at  this  cafe,  and  the  same  number  of  Belgian 
journals.  You  may  imagine  how  well  the  latter  are  informed, 
when  you  hear  that  the  battle  of  Boulogne,  fought  by  the  im- 
mortal Louis  Napoleon,  was  not  known  here  until  some  gen- 
deman  out  of  Norfolk  brought  the  news  from  London,  and  un- 
til it  had  travelled  to  Paris,  and  from  Paris  to  Brussels.  For 
a  whole  hour  I  could  not  get  a  newspaper  at  the  cafe.  The 
horrible  brass  band  in  the  meantime  had  quitted  the  place,  and 
now,  to  amuse  the  Ghent  citizens,  a  couple  of  little  boys  came 
to  the  cafe  and  set  up  a  small  concert :  one  played  ill  on  the 


GHENT  8og  . 

guitar,  but  sang,  very  sweetly,  plaintive  French  ballads;  the 
other  was  the  comic  singer  ;  he  carried  about  with  him  a  queer, 
long,  damp-looking,  mouldy  white  hat,  with  no  brim.  '  Ecoutez," 
said  the  waiter  to  me,  "  il  va  faire  I'Anglais  ;  c'est  tres  drole  !  " 
The  little  rogue  mounted  his  immense  brimless  hat,  and,  thrust- 
ing his  thumbs  into  the  armholes  of  his  waistcoat,  began  to 
fairc  r Anglais,  with  a  song  in  which  swearing  was  the  principal 
joke.  We  all  laughed  at  this,  and  indeed  the  little  rascal  seemed 
to  have  a  good  deal  of  humor. 

How  they  hate  us,  these  foreigners,  in  Belgium  as  much  as 
in  France  !  What  lies  they  tell  of  us  ;  how  gladly  they  would 
see  us  humiliated  !  Honest  folks  at  home  over  their  port-vvine 
say,  "  Ay,  ay,  and  very  good  reason  they  have  too.  National 
vanit}^,  sir,  wounded — we  have  beaten  them  so  often."  My 
dear  sir,  there  is  not  a  greater  error  in  the  world  than  this. 
They  hate  you  because  you  are  stupid,  hard  to  please,  and  in- 
tolerably insolent  r..ul  air-giving.  I  walked  with  an  English- 
man yesterday,  '^..j  asked  the  way  to  a  street  of  which  he 
pronounced  the  name  very  badly  to  a  little  Flemish  boy  :  the 
Flemish  boy  did  not  answer ;  and  there  was  my  Englishman 
quite  in  a  rage,  shrieking  in  the  child':;  ear  as  if  he  must 
answer.  He  seemed  to  think  that  it  v.as  the  duty  of  "  the 
snob,"  as  he  called  him,  to  obey  the  gentleman.  This  is  why 
we  are  hated — for  pride.  In  our  free  country  a  tradesman,  a 
lackey,  or  a  waiter  Vv'ill  submit  to  almost  any  given  insult  from 
a  gentleman  :  in  those  benighted  lands  one  man  is  as  good  as 
another ;  and  pray  God  it  may  soon  be  so  with  us  !  Of  all 
European  people,  which  is  the  nation  that  has  the  most  haugh- 
tiness, the  strongest  prejudices,  the  greatest  reserve,  the  great- 
est dulness  ?  I  say  an  Englishman  of  the  genteel  classes.  An 
honest  groom  jokes  and  hobs-and-nobs  and  makes  his  way  with 
the  kitchen-maids,  for  there  is  good  social  nature  in  the  man  ; 
his  master  dare  not  unbend.  Look  at  him,  how  he  scowls  at 
you  on  your  entering  an  inn-room;  think  how  you  scowl  your- 
self to  meet  his  scowl.  To-day,  as  we  were  walking  and  star- 
ing about  the  place,  a  worthy  old  gentleman  in  a  carriage, 
seeing  a  pair  of  strangers,  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  very 
gravely  with  his  old  powdered  head  out  of  the  window  :  I  am 
sorry  to  say  that  our  first  impulse  was  to  burst  out  laughing — 
it  seemed  so  supremely  ridiculous  that  a  stranger  should  notice 
and  welcome  another. 

As  for  the  notion  that  foreigners  hate  us  because  we  have 
beaten  them  so  often,  r.iy  dear  sir,  this  is  the  greatest  error  in 
the  world  :    well-educated   Frenchmen  do   not  believe  that  wt 


go6      LITTLE  TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCHES. 

have  beaten  them.  A  man  was  once  ready  to  call  me  out  in 
Paris  because  1  said  that  we  had  beaten  the  French  in  Spain ; 
and  here  before  me  is  a  French  paper,  with  a  London  corre- 
spondent discoursing  about  Louis  Bonaparte  and  his  jackass 
expedition  to  Boulogne.  *'  He  was  received  at  Eglintoun,  it  is 
true,"  says  the  correspondent,  "  but  what  do  you  think  was  the 
reason  ?  Because  the  English  nobility  were  anxious  to  reveiige 
upon  his  person  (with  some  coups  dc  lance)  the  checks  wJiich  the 
'' grand  ho7nme'  his  uncle  had  ififlictcd  ofi  tis  in  Spain." 

This  opinion  is  so  general  among  the  French,  that  they 
would  laugh  at  you  with  scornful  incredulity  if  you  ventured  to 
assert  any  other.  Foy's  history  of  the  Spanish  War  does  not, 
unluckily,  go  far  enough.  I  have  read  a  French  history  which 
hardly  mentions  the  war  in  Spain,  and  calls  the  battle  of  Sala- 
manca a  French  victory.  You  know  how  the  other  day,  and 
in  the  teeth  of  all  evidence,  the  French  swore  to  their  victory 
of  Toulouse  :  and  so  it  is  with  the  rest ;  and  you  may  set  it 
down  as  pretty  certain,  ist.  That  only  a  few  people  know  the 
real  state  of  things  in  France,  as  to  the  matter  in  dispute  be- 
tween us ;  2d,  That  those  who  do,  keep  the  truth  to  them- 
selves, and  so  it  is  as  if  it  had  never  been. 

These  Belgians  have  caught  up,  and  quite  naturally,  the 
French  tone.  We  are /^r/fc/t' ^//w;/ with  them  still.  Here  is 
the  Ghent  paper,  which  declares  that  it  is  beyond  a  doubt  that 
Louis  Napoleon  was  sent  by  the  English  and  Lord  Palmerston  ; 
and  though  it  states  in  another  part  of  the  journal  (from  Eng- 
lish authority)  that  the  Prince  had  never  seen  Lord  Palmer- 
ston, yet  the  lie  will  remain  uppermost — the  people  and  the 
editor  will  believe  it  to  the  end  of  time.  *  *  *  See  to  what 
a  digression  yonder  little  fellow  in  the  tall  hat  has  given  rise  ! 
Let  us  make  his  picture,  and  have  done  with  him. 

I  could  not  understand,  in  my  walks  about  this  place, 
which  is  certainly  picturesque  enough,  and  contains  extraordi- 
nary charms  in  the  shape  of  old  gables,  quaint  spires,  and 
'broad  shining  canals — I  could  not  at  first  comprehend  why,  for 
all  this,  the  town  was  especially  disagreeable  to  me,  and  have 
only  just  hit  on  the  reason  why.  Sweetest  Juliana,  you  will 
never  guess  it :  it  is  simply  this,  that  I  have  not  seen  a  single 
decent- looking  woman  in  the  whole  place  ;  they  look  all  ugly, 
with  coarse  mouths,  vulgar  figures,  mean  mercantile  faces  j 
and  so  the  traveller  walking  among  them  finds  the  pleasure  of 
his  walk  excessively  damped,  and  the  impressions  made  upon 
him  disagreeable. 


BRUGES.  807 

In  the  Academy  there  are  no  pictures  of  merit ;  but  some- 
times a  second-rate  picture  is  as  pleasing  as  the  best,  and  one 
may  pass  an  hour  here  very  pleasantly.  There  is  a  room  ap- 
propriated to  Belgian  artists,  of  which  I  never  saw  the  like  : 
they  are,  like  all  the  rest  of  the  things  in  this  country,  miser- 
able imitations  of  the  French  school — great  rude  Venuses,  and 
Junos  a  la  David,  with  the  drawing  left  out. 


BRUGES. 

The  change  from  vulgar  Ghent,  with  its  ugly  women  and 
coarse  bustle,  to  this  quiet,  old,  half-deserted,  cleanly  Bruges, 
was  very  pleasant.  I  have  seen  old  men  at  Versailles,  with 
shabby  coats  and  pigtails,  sunning  themselves  on  the  benches 
in  the  walls  ;  they  had  seen  better  days,  to  be  sure,  but  they 
were  gentlemen  still :  and  so  we  found,  this  morning,  old 
dowager  Bruges  basking  in  the  pleasant  August  sun,  and  look- 
ing if  not  prosperous,  at  least  cheerful  and  well-bred.  It  is  the 
quaintest  and  prettiest  of  all  the  quaint  and  pretty  towns  I 
have  seen.  A  painter  might  spend  months  here,  and  wander 
from  church  to  church,  and  admire  old  towers  and  pinnacles, 
tall  gables,  bright  canals,  and  pretty  little  patches  of  green 
garden  and  moss-grown  wall,  that  reflect  in  the  clear  quiet 
water.  Before  the  inn-window  is  a  garden,  from  which  in  the 
early  morning  issues  a  most  wonderful  odor  of  stocks  and  wall- 
flowers ;  next  comes  a  road  with  trees  of  admirable  green  ; 
numbers  of  little  children  are  playing  in  this  road  (the  place  is 
so  clean  that  they  may  roll  in  it  all  day  without  soiling  their 
pinafores),  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  trees  are  little  old- 
fashioned,  dumpy,  whitewashed,  red-tiled  houses.  A  poorer 
landscape  to  draw  never  was  known,  nor  a  pleasanter  to  see — 
the  children  especially,  who  are  inordinately  fat  and  rosy.  Let 
it  be  remembered,  too,  that  here  we  are  out  of  the  country  of 
ugly  women :  the  expression  of  the  face  is  almost  uniformly 
gentle  and  pleasing,  and  the  figures  of  the  \yomen,  wrapped  in 
long  black  monklike  cloaks  and  hoods,  very  picturesque.  No 
wonder  there  are  so  many  children  :  the  "  Guide- book  "  (omnis- 
cient Mr.  Murray  !)  says  there  are  fifteen  thousand  paupers  in 
in  the  town,  and  we  know  how  such  multiply.  How  the  deuce 
do  their  children  look  so  fat  and  rosy  ?  By  eating  dirt-pies, 
I  suppose.  I  saw  a  couple  making  a  very  nice  savory  one, 
and  another  employed  in  gravely  sticking  strips  of  stick  be- 
twixt the  pebbles  at  the  house  door,  and  so  making  for  her- 


8oS      LITTLE  TRAVELS  AND  ROAD-SIDE  SKETCHES. 

self  a  stately  garden.  The  men  and  women  don't  seems  to 
have  much  more  to  do.  There  are  a  couple  of  tall  chimneys 
at  either  suburb  of  the  town,  where  no  doubt  manufactories  are 
at  work,  but  within  the  walls  ever3-body  seems  decently  idle.    , 

We  have  been,  of  course,  abroad  to  visit  the  lions.  Tha 
tower  in  the  Grand  Place  is  very  fine,  and  the  bricks  of  which 
it  is  built  do  not  yield  a  whit  in  color  to  the  best  stone.  The 
great  building  round  this  tower  is  very  like  the  pictures  of  the 
Ducal  Palace  at  Venice  ;  and  there  is  a  long  market  area,  with 
columns  dovv'n  the  middle,  from  which  hung  shreds  of  rather 
lean-looking  meat,  that  would  do  wonders  under  the  hands  of 
Cattermole  or  Haghe.  In  the  tower  there  is  a  chime  of  bells 
that  keep  ringuig  perpetuall3^  They  not  only  play  tunes  of 
themselves,  and  every  quarter  of  an  hour,  but  an  individual 
performs  selections  from  popular  operas  on  them  at  certain 
periods  of  the  morning,  afternoon,  and  evening.  I  have  heard 
to-day  "  Suoni  la  Tromba,"  "  Son  Vergin  Vezzosa,"  from  the 
"  Puritani,"  and  other  airs,  and  very  badly  they  were  played 
too  j  for  such  a  great  monster  as  a  tower-bell  cannot  be  expected 
to  imitate  Madame  Grisi  or  even  Signor  Lablache.  Other 
churches  indulge  in  the  same  amusement,  so  that  one  may  come 
here  and  live  in  melody  all  day  or  night,  like  the  young  woman 
in  Moore's  "  Lalla  Rookh," 

In  the  matter  of  art,  the  chief  attractions  of  Bruges  are  the 
pictures  of  Hemling,  that  are  to  be  seen  in  the  churches,  the 
hospital,  and  the  picture-gallery  of  the  place.  There  are  no 
more  pictures  of  Rubens  to  be  seen,  and,  indeed,  in  the  course 
of  a  fortnight,  one  has  had  quite  enough  of  the  great  man  and 
his  magnificent,  swaggering  canvases.  What  a  difference  is 
here  with  simple  Hemling  and  the  extraordinary  creations  of 
his  pencil !  The  hospital  is  particularly  rich  in  them  ;  and  the 
legend  there  is  that  the  painter,  who  had  served  Charles  the 
Bold  in  his  war  against  the  Swiss,  and  his  last  battle  and  defeat, 
wandered  back  wounded  and  penniless  to  Bruges,  and  here 
found  cure  and  shelter. 

This  hospital  is  a  noble  and  curious  sight.  The  great  hall 
is  almost  as  it  was  in  the  twellth  century  ;  it  is  spanned  by 
Saxon  arches,  and  lighted  by  a  multiplicity  of  Gothic  windows 
of  all  sizes  ;  it  is  very  lofty,  clean,  and  perfectly  well  ventilated  ; 
a  screen  runs  across  the  middle  of  the  room,  to  divide  the  male 
from  the  female  patients,  and  we  were  taken  to  examine  each 
ward,  when  the  poor  people  seemed  happier  than  possibly  they 
would  have  been  in  health  and  starvation  without  it.  Great 
yellow  blankets  were  on  the  iron  beds,  the  linen  was  scrupu- 


BRUGES.  809 

lously  clean,  glittering  pewter  jugs  and  goblets  stood  by  the 
side  of  each  patient,  and  they  were  provided  with  godly  books 
(to  judge  from  the  binding),  in  which  several  were  reading  at 
leisure.  Honest  old  comfortable  nuns,  in  queer  dresses  of  blue, 
black,  white,  and  flannel,  were  bustling  through  the  room,  at- 
tending to  the  wants  of  the  sick.  I  saw  about  a  dozen  of  these 
kind  women's  faces  ;  one  was  young — all  were  healthy  and 
cheerful.  One  came  with  bare  blue  arms  and  a  great  pile  of 
linen  from  an  outhouse — such  a  grange  as  Cedric  the  S?xon 
might  have  given  to  a  guest  for  the  night.  A  couple  were  in  a 
laboratory,  a  tall,  bright,  clean  room,  500  years  old  at  least. 
"We  saw  you  were  not  very  religious,"  said  one  of  the  old 
ladies,  with  a  red,  wrinkled,  good-humored  face,  "  by  your  be- 
havior yesterday  in  chapel."  And  yet  we  did  not  laugh  and 
talk  as  we  used  at  college,  but  were  profoundly  affected  by  the 
scene  that  we  saw  there.  It  was  a  fete  day  :  a  Mass  of  Mozart 
was  sung  in  the  evening — not  well  sung,  and  yet  so  exquisitely 
tender  and  melodious,  that  it  brought  tears  into  our  eyes. 
There  were  not  above  twenty  people  in  the  church  :  all,  save 
three  or  four,  were  women  in  long  black  cloaks.  I  took  them 
for  nuns  at  first.  They  were,  however,  the  common  people  of 
the  town,  very  poor  indeed,  doubtless,  for  the  priest's  box  tliat 
was  brought  round  was  not  added  to  by  most  of  them,  and 
their  contributions  w-ere  but  two-cent  pieces, — five  of  these  go 
to  a  penny  ;  but  we  know  the  value  of  such,  and  can  tell  the 
exact  worth  of  a  poor  woman's  mite  !  The  box-bearer  did  not 
seem  at  first  willing  to  accept  our  donation — we  were  strangers 
and  heretics ;  however,  I  held  out  my  hand,  and  he  came  per- 
force as  it  were.  Indeed  it  had  only  a  franc  in  it  :  but  que 
voulez-vous  ?  I  had  been  drinking  a  bottle  of  Rhuie  wine  that 
day,  and  how  was  I  to  afford  more  ?  The  Rhine  wine  is  dear 
in  this  country,  and  costs  four  francs  a  bottle. 

Well,  the  service  proceeded.  Twenty  poor  women,  two 
Englishmen,  four  ragged  beggars,  cowering  on  the  steps  ;  and 
there  was  the  priest  at  the  altar,  in  a  great  robe  of  gold  and 
damask,  two  little  boys  in  white  surplices  serving  him,  holding 
his  robe  as  he  rose  and  bowed,  and  the  money-gatherer  swing- 
ing his  censer,  and  filling  the  little  chapel  with  smoke.  The 
music  pealed  with  wonderful  sweetness  ;  you  could  see  the  prim 
white  heads  of  the  nuns  in  their  gallery.  The  evening  light 
streamed  down  upon  old  statues  of  saints  and  carved  brown 
stalls,  and  lighted  up  the  head  of  the  golden-haired  Magdalen 
in  a  picture  of  the  entombment  of  Christ.  Over  the  galler}', 
and,  as  it  were,  a  kind  protectress  to  the  poor  below,  stood  the 
statue  of  the  Virgin. 


8 1  o     LITTLE  TRA  VELS  A  ND  R  OAD-S/DE  SA'E  TCHES. 


III. — Waterloo. 

It  is,  my  dear,  the  happy  privilege  of  your  sex  in  England 
to  quit  the  dinner-table  after  the  wine-bottles  have  once  or 
twice  gone  round  it,  and  you  are  thereby  saved  (though,  to  be 
sure,  I  can't  tell  what  the  ladies  do  up  stairs)  you  are  saved  two 
or  three  hours'  excessive  dulness,  which  the  men  are  obliged  to 
go  through. 

I  ask  any  gentleman  who  reads  this — the  letters  to  my 
Juliana  being  written  with  an  eye  to  publication — to  remember 
especially  how  many  times,  how  many  hundred  times,  how 
many  thousand  times,  in  his  hearing,  the  battle  of  Waterloo  has 
been  discussed  after  dinner,  and  to  call  to  mind  how  cruelly  lie 
has  been  bored  by  the  discussion.  "  Ah,  it  was  lucky  for  us  that 
the  Prussians  came  up  !  "  "  Hang  the  Prussians  !"  (or,  perhaps, 
something  stronger  than  "  the  Prussians  !  ")  says  a  stout  old 
major  on  half-pay.  "  We  beat  the  French  without  them,  sir,  as 
beaten  them  we  always  have  !  We  were  thundering  down  the  hill 
of  Belle  Alliance,  sir,  at  the  backs  of  them,  and  the  French  were 
crying  '  Sauve  qui  peut '  long  before  the  Prussians  ever  touched 
them  !  "  And  so  the  battle  opens,  and  for  many  mortal  hours, 
amid  rounds  of  claret,  rages  over  and  over  again. 

I  thought  to  myself,  considering  the  above  things,  what  a 
fine  thing  it  will  be  in  after-days  to  say  that  I  have  been  to 
Brussels  and  never  seen  the  field  of  Waterloo ;  indeed,  that  I 
am  such  a  philosopher  as  not  to  care  a  fig  about  the  battle — 
nay,  to  regret,  rather,  that  when  Napoleon  came  back,  the  Brit- 
ish Government  had  not  spared  their  men  and  left  him  alone. 

But  this  pitch  of  philosophy  was  unattainable.  This  morn- 
ing, after  having  seen  the  Park,  the  fashionable  boulevard,  the 
pictures,  the  cafe's — having  sipped,  I  say,  the  sweets  of  every 
flower  that  grows  in  this  paradise  of  Brussels,  quite  weary  of 
the  place,  we  mounted  on  a  Namur  diligence,  and  jingled  off 
at  four  miles  an  hour  for  Waterloo. 

The  road  is  very  neat  and  agreeable  :  the  Forest  of  Soig- 
nies  here  and  there  interposes  pleasantly,  to  give  your  vehicle 
a  shade  r  the  country,  as  usual,  is  vastly  fertile  and  well  culti- 
vated. A  farmer  and  the  conducteur  were  my  companions  in 
the  imperial,  and,  could  I  have  understood  their  conversation, 
my  dear,  you  should  have  had  certainly  a  report  of  it.  The 
jargon  which  they  talked  was,  indeed,  most  queer  and  puzzling 


WATERLOO.  Sil 

— French,  I  believe,  strangly  hashed  up  and  pronounced,  for  here 
and  there  one  could  catch  a  few  words  of  it.  Now  and  anon, 
however,  they  condescended  to  speak  in  the  purest  French  they 
could  muster ;  and,  indeed,  nothing  is  more  curious  than  to 
hear  the  French  of  the  country.  You  can't  understand  why  all 
the  people  insist  upon  speaking  it  so  badly.  I  asked  the  con- 
ductor if  he  had  been  at  the  battle  ;  he  burst  out  laughing  like 
a  philosopher,  as  he  was,  and  said,  "  Pas  si  bete."  I  asked 
the  farmer  whether  his  contributions  were  lighter  now  than  in 
King  William's  time,  and  lighter  than  those  in  the  time  of  the 
Emjjeror  ?  He  vowed  that  in  war-time  he  had  not  more  to  pay 
than  in  time  of  peace  (and  this  strange  fact  is  vouched  for  by 
every  person  of  every  nation),  and  being  asked  wherefore  the 
King  of  Holland  had  been  ousted  from  his  throne,  replied  at 
once,  "  Parceque  c'etoit  un  voleur :  "  for  which  accusation  I 
believe  there  is  some  show  of  reason,  his  Majesty  having  laid 
hands  on  much  Belgian  property  before  the  lamented  outbreak 
which  cost  him  his  crown.  A  vast  deal  of  laughing  and  roar- 
ing passed  between  these  two  worldly  people  and  the  postilion, 
wiiom  they  called  "baron,"  and  I  thought  no  doubt  this  talk 
was  one  of  the  many  jokes  that  my  companions  were  in  the 
habit  of  making.  But  not  so  :  the  postilion  was  an  actual  baron, 
the  bearer  of  an  ancient  name,  the  descendant  of  gallant  gentle- 
men. Good  heavens  !  what  would  Mrs.  Trollope  say  to  see 
his  lordship  here  ?  His  father  the  old  baron  had  dissipated  the 
family  fortune,  and  here  was  this  young  nobleman,  at  about 
five-and-forty,  compelled  to  bestride  a  clattering  Flemish  stal- 
lion, and  bump  over  dusty  pavements  at  the  rate  of  five  miles 
an  hour.  But  see  the  beauty  of  high  blood  :  with  a  calm  grace 
the  man  of  family  accommodates  himself  to  fortune.  Far  from 
being  cast  down,  his  lordship  met  his  fate  like  a  man  :  he 
swore  and  laughed  the  whole  of  the  journey,  and  as  we  changed 
hordes,  condescended  to  partake  of  half  a  pint  of  Louvain  beer, 
to  which  the  farmer  treated  him — indeed  the  worthy  rustic 
treated  me  to  a  glass  too. 

Much  delight  and  instruction  have  I  had  in  the  course  of 
the  journey  from  my  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend,  the  author 
of  "  Murray's  Handbook."  He  has  gathered  together,  indeed, 
a  store  of  information,  and  must,  to  make  his  single  volume^ 
have  gutted  many  hundreds  of  guide-books.  How  the  Con- 
tinental ciceroni  must  hate  him,  whoever  he  is  !  Every  English 
party  I  saw  had  this  infallible  red  book  in  their  hands,  and 
gained  a  vast  deal  of  historical  and  general  information  from  it. 
Thus   I   heard,  in  confidence,  many  remarkable  anecdotes  of 


8l2      LITTLE  TRAVELS  AjVD  ROAD-STDE  SKETCHES. 

Charles  V.,  the  Duke  of  Alva,  Count  Egmont,  all  of  which  I 
had  before  perceived,  with  much  satisfaction,  not  only  in  the 
"  Handbook,"  but  even  in  other  works. 

The  Laureate  is  among  the  English  poets  evidently  the 
great  favorite  of  our  guide  :  the  choice  does  honor  to  his  head 
and  heart.  A  man  must  have  a  veiy  strong  bent  for  poetrj-, 
indeed,  who  carries  Southey's  works  in  his  portmanteau,  and 
quotes  them  in  proper  time  and  occasion.  Of  course  at  \^'ater- 
loo  a  spirit  like  our  guide's  cannot  fail  to  be  deeply  moved,  and 
to  turn  to  his  favorite  poet  for  sympathy.  Hark  how  the 
laureated  bard  sings  about  the  tombstones  at  Waterloo : — 

"  That  temple  to  our  hearts  was  hallow'd  now, 

For  many  a  wonnded  Briton  there  was  laid, 
With  such  for  help  as  time  might  then  allow, 

From  the  fresh  carnage  of  the  field  conveyed. 
And  they  whom  human  succor  could  not  save, 

Here,  in  his  precincts,  found  a  hasty  grave. 
And  here,  on  marble  tablets,  set  on  high, 

In  English  lines  by  foreign  workmen  traced. 
The  names  familiar  to  an  English  eye. 

Their  bretliren  here  the  fit  memorial  placed  ; 
Whose  unadorned  inscriptions  briefly  tell 

Their  ga/lant  comrades^  rank,  and  where  they  fell. 
The  stateliest  monument  of  human  pric'e. 

Enriched  with  all  magnificence  of  art, 
To  honor  chieftains  who  in  victory  died, 

Would  wake  no  stronger  feeling  in  the  heart 
Than  these  plain  tablets  by  the  soldier's  hand 

Raised  to  his  comrades  in  a  foreign  land." 

There  are  lines  for  you  !  wonderful  for  justice,  rich  in  thought 
and  novel  ideas.  The  passage  concerning  their  gallant  com- 
rades' rank  should  be  specially  remarked.  There  indeed  they 
lie,  sure  enough  :  the  Honorable  Colonel  This  of  the  Guards, 
Captain  That  of  the  Hussars,  Major  So-and-So  of  the  Dragoons, 
brave  men  and  good,  who  did  their  duty  by  their  country  on 
that  day,  and  died  in  the  performance  of  it. 

Amen.  But  I  confess  fairly,  that  in  looking  at  these  tab- 
lets, I  felt  very  much  disappointed  at  not  seeing  the  names  cf 
the  men  as  well  as  the  officers.  Are  they  to  be  counted  for 
nought  ?  A  few  more  inches  of  marble  to  each  monumer.t 
would  have  given  space  for  all  the  names  of  the  men  ;  and  the 
men  of  that  day  were  the  winners  of  the  battle.  We  have  a 
right  to  be  as  grateful  individually  to  any  given  private  as  to 
any  given  officer ;  their  duties  were  very  much  the  same.  \\"hy 
should  the  country  reserve  its  gratitude  for  the  genteel  occu- 
piers of  the  army-list,  and  forget  the  gallant  fellows  whose 
humble  names  were  written  in  the  regimental  books  .''  In  read- 
ing of  the  Wellington  wars,  and  the  conduct  of  the  men  en- 
gaged in  them,  I   don't  know  whether  to  respect  them  or  to 


Waterloo:  813 

v/onder  at  them  most.  They  have  death,  wounds,  and  poverty 
in  contemplation  ;  in  possession,  poverty,  hard  labor,  hard  fare, 
and  small  thanks.  If  they  do  wrong,  they  are  handed  over  to 
the  inevitable  provost-marshal ;  if  they  are  heroes,  heroes  they 
may  be,  but  they  remain  privates  still,  handling  the  okl  brown 
bess,  starving  on  the  old  twopence  a  day.  They  grow  gray  in 
battle  and  victory,  and  after  thirty  years  of  bloody  service,  a 
young  gentleman  of  fifteen,  fresh  from  a  preparatory  sciiool, 
who  can  scarcely  read,  and  came  but  yesterday  with  a  pinafore 
into  papa's  dessert — such  a  young  gentleman,  I  say,  arrives  in 
a  spick-and-span  red  coat,  and  calmly  takes  the  command  over 
our  veteran,  who  obeys  him  as  if  God  and  nature  had  ordained 
that  so  throughout  time  it  should  be. 

That  privates  should  obey,  and  that  they  should  be  smartly 
punished  if  they  disobey,  this  one  can  understand  very  v.ell. 
But  to  say  obey  forever  and  ever — to  say  that  private  John 
Styles  is,  by  some  physical  disproportion,  hopelessly  i.iicrior 
to  Cornet  Snooks  —  to  say  that  Snooks  shall  have  honors, 
epaulets,  and  a  marble  tablet  if  he  dies,  and  that  Styles  shall 
fight  his  fight,  and  have  his  twopence  a  day,  and  when  shot 
dov/n  shall  be  sliovelled  into  a  hole  with  other  Styleses,  and  so 
forgotten ;  and  to  think  that  we  had  in  the  course  of  the  last 
war  some  400,000  of  these  Styleses,  and  some  10,000,  say,  of 
the  Snooks  sort — Styles  being  by  nature  exactly  as  honest, 
clever,  and  brave  as  Snooks — and  to  think  that  the  400,000 
should  bear  this  is  the  wonder  ! 

Suppose  Snooks  makes  a  speech.  "  Look  at  these  French- 
men, British  soldiers,"  says  he,  "  and  remember  who  they  are, 
Two-and-twenty  years  since  they  hurled  their  King  from  his 
throne,  and  murdered  him  "  (groans).  "They  flung  out  of  their 
country  their  ancient  and  famous  nobility — they  published  the 
audacious  doctrine  of  equality — they  made  a  cadet  of  artillery, 
a  beggarly  lawyer's  son,  into  an  Emperor,  and  took  ignoramuses 
from  the  ranks — drummers  and  privates,  by  Jove  ! — of  whom 
they  made  kings,  generals,  and  marshals  !  Is  this  to  be  borne  .-"' 
(Cries  of  "  No  !  no  !  ")  "  Upon  them,  my  boys  !  down  with 
these  godless  revolutionists,  and  rally  round  the  British  lion  !  " 

So  saying,  Ensign  Snooks  (whose  flag,  which  he  can't  carry, 
is  held  by  a  huge  grizzly  color-sergeant,)  draws  a  little  sword, 
and  pipes  out  a  feeble  huzza.  The  men  of  his  company,  roar- 
ing curses  at  the  Frenchmen,  prepare  to  receive  and  repel  a 
thundering  charge  of  French  cuirassiers.  The  men  fight,  and 
Snooks  is  knighted  because  the  men  fought  so  well. 

But  live  or  die,  win  or  lose,  what  do  they  get  ?     English 


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